“I’m here expressly to see to your safety and Zaira’s this evening. I’ve been watching you both all night. So has she.”
I shrugged wearily. “Marcello, people stare at me at parties all the time, because of who my mother is. It’s why I don’t like them.”
His mouth quirked. “Parties, or people?”
“I like some people.” I smiled, in case he had any doubt he was one of them.
“But can you think of any reason she’d be watching you?”
I shook my head. “I don’t even know who she is.”
“Lady Colanthe Savony. Technically, she’s Duke Bergandon’s steward, but in terms of day-to-day matters, she essentially runs the city of Ardence.”
“I have no idea why she would be interested in me,” I said. “Unless she’s attempting to get a sense of whether Zaira and I are about to set Ardence on fire, in which case she’ll be reassured we are a very silly pair of girls who are no threat to her city whatsoever.”
“It’s not clear why she’s here at all.” Marcello rubbed his temple. He could be warding off a headache or signaling to his people hidden in the room. After the incident in the market, I wasn’t leaping to any conclusions. “She’s the voice and hands of the duke. She can’t possibly be on the ambassadorial staff.”
“Maybe the duke wants her personal report on Raverra’s reaction to the unrest in Ardence.”
“Or maybe she’s helping make plans to attempt to neutralize Raverra’s fire warlock.” Marcello leaned closer and dropped his voice. “Be careful, Lady Amalia. Please don’t go anywhere alone tonight.”
The thin inches of air between us hummed, live as a luminary wire.
I could have counted the amber flecks in his intent green eyes. As my suddenly clumsy tongue fumbled after a reply, a court functionary approached us with a bow.
“Excuse me, Lieutenant Verdi, Lady Amalia. His Serenity would like to speak with you.”
Surprised, I glanced over to where the doge presided in his informal court.
He was staring right at us, and he did not look happy.
Chapter Nine
Lieutenant Verdi.” The doge’s voice was soft as an adder’s hiss. “Has there been some incident with the Falconers in Ardence of which I should be aware?”
The heavy gold embroidery in his robes glinted in the lamplight, and a storm brewed behind his eyes. His attendants had cleared a space around us for private conversation. Somehow I doubted it was Marcello’s pride they were protecting, which worried me. Being part of something the doge wished to hide could be dangerous.
Marcello bowed stiffly. “No, Your Serenity. Not that I’m aware of. We have a handful of Falconers and Falcons there, but at last report everything seemed in order. The colonel would know better than I.”
The doge brought his fingertips together under his chin. “The colonel is not here. And the Ardentine ambassador would disagree with you, it seems. Vehemently.”
“Your Serenity, I am at a loss.” Marcello bowed again, nervously. I could have told him that wouldn’t help. A man like the doge would pounce on weakness like a cat on a fluttering feather. “I am not aware of any incident involving the Falconers in Ardence.”
“Neither am I,” the doge said. “And there, you see, is the problem.” His voice sharpened until I winced. “All I have is a report from Lady Terringer that shortly before dawn half the noble court of Ardence stormed up to her gates making incoherent demands. And now this. When an ambassador comes to my court and starts complaining about an incident of which I am ignorant, Lieutenant, I must either bluff my way through the conversation or admit my intelligence services have failed me. Either way, it puts me at a disadvantage.” He leaned back into his chair. “As to how fond I am of being at a disadvantage, I will allow you to exercise your imagination.”
Marcello’s throat jumped. “I am most distressed that I know nothing of this myself, Your Serenity.”
“Then find out.” The doge clipped each word off neat as a beheading. “And soon, Lieutenant. I await your report most eagerly.”
Marcello bowed a third time. “Yes, Your Serenity.”
The doge turned to me. I braced myself, but his tone modulated seamlessly to one of courtesy, cold and graceful as a swept-hilt rapier. “Lady Amalia. You are enjoying your evening, I hope?”
“Ah, yes, Your Serenity?”
“Do you have any reason to believe your Falcon may have a previous Ardentine connection? Does she know anyone here tonight?”
“No, Your Serenity. I’ve seen no signs of that.”
“Hmph. Then her conscription into the Falcons couldn’t be the incident to which the ambassador was referring.” He flicked his fingers, as if casting the idea off. Then he leaned forward, his eyes piercing as an owl’s. “I know you have Ardentine friends. Do try to do a better job this time.”
“Your Serenity?”
“At getting information from them. Though I don’t hold much hope, after your abysmal lack of results with the Vaskandran princeling.”
I drew a sharp breath, stung. He’d never dare speak that way to my mother.
But I wasn’t my mother. I nodded curtly, not trusting my words.
The doge waved his dismissal. “Enjoy the rest of the reception.”
As we walked away, to clear the bitter taste in my mouth, I asked Marcello, “So you truly have no idea what he’s talking about?”
“None.” He spread his hands. “But I’d best find out quickly, if I hope to keep my position.”
Domenic had mentioned a crisis with the Falconers. But I couldn’t tell Marcello about our conversation without revealing Domenic had hinted at things that could skirt the edges of treason.
“If there were an incident involving the Falconers in Ardence, would you know about it?” I asked instead.
“Yes,” he said. “Colonel Vasante keeps the officers updated on such things as soon as word comes in over the courier lamps so that we can be aware of potential threats. I don’t understand.”
I didn’t need my mother’s nose for intrigue to smell rot. “This isn’t just miscommunication. The Ardentines know all about this supposed incident, but we don’t. Someone’s hiding something, or lying, or worse.”
“Ah, Lady Amalia!” a foppish voice interrupted from behind me.
I turned, realizing with dawning horror I’d wandered too close to the dance floor. A courtier done up in full Loreician style, dripping with lace and sporting a bejeweled codpiece, extended a flourishing hand. “They’re striking up a minuet, I believe. May I have this dance?”
Beyond him, another half dozen like him lurked in waiting. Panicked, I grabbed Marcello’s hand.
“Alas, I’m afraid I already promised this dance to Lieutenant Verdi.” I bestowed upon the courtier my most brilliant false smile. Marcello’s hand spasmed in mine, but he didn’t protest. I spun to face him and mouthed, “Help me.”
Without missing a beat, he bowed graceful assent, gesturing to the dance floor. “Shall we, my lady?”
As we moved into position, I whispered to him desperately, “Thank you. But I should warn you, I’m a terrible dancer.”
“It’s all right,” he said. “I know my way around a minuet.”
The first delicate strains of music filled the ballroom. Marcello’s hand was warm around mine. His easy grin showed those charming dimples. At least he didn’t seem annoyed with me.
I circled and dipped, watching the other dancers out of the corners of my eyes, feeling a bit like a pigeon with all the bobbing up and down. At least my skirts hid my feet; so long as I didn’t bump into anyone, it didn’t matter if my steps weren’t quite right. Marcello’s eyes laughed at me, and I grinned back.
“I’ve noticed you’ve spent half your time escaping the attentions of young men tonight,” Marcello observed when we came together again. His sword calluses were hard against my palm, but otherwise his hand felt smooth and sure. He guided me with a gentle pressure from it, circling me in the right direction
. “Is this a common problem for you?”
“It seems a popular belief that the heiress to a large fortune must be eager to marry at the earliest possible opportunity,” I replied.
“Ah.” He seemed about to say more; but the dance parted us again, and we bobbed around separately for a time. It was harder not to get lost among the other dancers without Marcello nudging me, but he caught my eyes and nodded in the right direction once or twice.
When we joined hands again, he drew me smoothly into position, making me look good through his own grace. He was a good dancer.
“They’re fools,” Marcello said. It took me a moment to remember he was talking about my erstwhile suitors.
“Well, yes. But was there a reason in particular you meant?”
“Because your fortune is the least of your good qualities, Amalia.” It was the first time he’d called me by my name alone. A warm glow blossomed under my ribs.
“Oh, yes,” I said. “I’m also an eccentric half Callamorne, who often dresses in breeches, and I fiddle about with artifice despite having no magical talent of my own. I’m sure I’d have no difficulty finding suitors if I weren’t fabulously wealthy.”
“I think you’re brave, brilliant, and beautiful.”
He wasn’t smiling. His expression had gone wistful. I nearly tripped over my own heels. “How alliterative.”
It was time to part again, circling around through the other dancers. I kept my eyes locked on Marcello, and nearly went the wrong way twice. I had a close call with a grand lady’s swooshing skirts. My heart pounded against my corset stays.
He’d meant it. He thought I was beautiful. And brilliant, and the rest of it. He was too honest to flatter with a lie.
A twinge of confusion snarled the warmth unfurling in me. Marcello might have a bright future in the Falconers, but he was still no aristocrat. When I’d sighed over Domenic, I used to worry my mother would consider a viscount too far beneath me to approve a courtship. But questions of rank and station seemed distant and irrelevant when Marcello was here, now, gazing into my eyes across the sea of dancers.
The music brought us back together.
“Amalia,” Marcello began. But he broke off, uncertainty vexing his brow.
“Yes?” I tried to keep any turbulence from my voice.
Marcello shook his head. “It’s a fine evening. I wish it were pleasure that brought us here, and not duty.”
For the rest of the dance, a shadow clouded his eyes.
I would have felt less uneasy about our meeting with Domenic the next morning if he had selected a different venue. The low ceiling of the coffeehouse gathered shadows and whispers under its wings, and there may as well have been a sign outside saying, “Welcome, Plotters of Sedition.” It had been hard to convince the guards Marcello sent with us that we wanted a quiet moment for private conversation and they should wait outside.
Zaira seemed unconcerned, and peered around the dim interior with interest as we maneuvered between tables full of the disaffected younger sons of wealthy merchants and minor nobles to join Domenic in the far corner. At least she didn’t seem ready to run off this time.
Domenic rose to greet us in a sudden surge of nervous energy, his attention on Zaira.
“Lady Amalia, Zaira. Have you tried coffee before?” He gestured to the steaming cups already awaiting us on the table.
Zaira shook her head.
I eyed the murky liquid dubiously. “Once. I will confess it was not to my taste.”
“Well, that’s a powerful recommendation.” Zaira snatched up her cup and knocked back a swallow. A variety of expressions crossed her face, ending with her eyebrows lost in her hair. “Hot,” she said. “But good!” She slurped more.
I nudged my cup. “I’ve heard it can be medicinal.”
Domenic laughed. “It’s all right, Amalia. They also serve wine.”
He called a server over and ordered me a glass, then turned to Zaira. “What did you think of the reception last night?”
She shrugged. “The food was good.”
“And the company?” His eyes gleamed as if he expected something interesting.
“Very pretty.” She took another draft of coffee, smirking at Domenic over the cup. “Very impressed with themselves.”
“That sums up most of the noble courts of Eruvia,” I said.
Domenic laughed, but his eyes never left Zaira. “You sound as if you weren’t so impressed.”
“It takes a lot to impress me. I’d be the same if the doge had rode in naked on the back of an elephant.” She tipped her chair, enjoying Domenic’s attention. “As a Tallows girl in a room full of half the Assembly, being unimpressed is my first weapon.”
“Must it always be a battle?” I asked.
“Most of us don’t get to choose, rich girl. I’ve been at war every day of my life.”
Domenic put his chin in his hands, staring at Zaira in fascination. “I never know what you’re going to say next. But it’s always the raw truth.”
“Sometimes a little too raw,” I muttered.
My wine arrived, and I took a sip, grateful for the distraction. When the server left, Domenic leaned across the table, extending a hand to Zaira as if in supplication. “As Amalia could tell you, I’m often a fool.”
“At least you admit it.” Zaira let him take her hand, a smirk tugging at her mouth.
“Still, I’ve rarely felt as great a fool as I do now. I didn’t realize until yesterday that not all Falcons went to the Mews willingly.” He grimaced at his own ignorance. “I’m appalled that happened to you.”
I hid my discomfort behind a sip of wine.
Zaira raised her brows. “You didn’t know the mage-marked have no choice? I’m a Tallows brat who’s never seen the inside of a school, and I know it’s in the Serene Accords.”
“I know the law, but I didn’t know any Falcons, so I thought it was always like the stories.” Domenic shrugged ruefully. “You know, the little orphan girl driven out of her village with stones, then discovered at last and whisked off to live like a princess in the Mews.”
“I’ll bet my front teeth mage-marked didn’t write those stories,” Zaira said.
“No bet.” Domenic put a hand over his mouth. “I like my teeth where they are. But yes, I’m a selfish fool not to have wondered until yesterday what happens to the mage-marked who don’t want to join the Falcons. And I’m sorry for that.”
“Better late than never.” Zaira fixed him with an assessing stare. “So what are you going to do about it?”
“First, talk to my brother. He has friends who’ve had some success standing up to the Empire. Maybe we can start by protecting the mage-marked in Ardence, then work on getting Raverra to alter the Serene Accords.”
Zaira and I both stared at him in shock. By her expression, she hadn’t expected a serious answer; as for me, I couldn’t believe he was going to plan treason right here in front of me.
“Altering the law is a worthy long-term goal,” I said carefully. “But what do you mean, protecting the mage-marked in Ardence? If you simply mean keeping them safe from misguided or malicious attacks, the Falconers do that.”
“I thought they did.” Domenic’s brows lowered. “But after what happened in Ardence the other night, I’m not so sure.”
Dread caught its claws in my heart. Here it comes. “What happened? I still don’t know.”
“The Falconers seized Ardentine nobles’ children from their homes without warning.” Domenic took a heartfelt swallow of coffee, as if he could wash the awful taste of the words from his mouth. “The Empire is holding them against Ardence’s good behavior.”
“That’s impossible.” The dismissal burst instinctively from my lips.
Zaira let out a harsh bark of a laugh. “That the Falconers would abduct someone? Oh, yes, completely impossible.”
“Far from it. It’s happened before, almost exactly like this.” Domenic traced a pattern through the wet ring his mug had left on the tabl
e, as if writing history there. “When Raverra defeated Ardence and brought it into the Empire, two hundred years ago, there were nobles who refused to accept Raverran rule. The Empire took their firstborn hostage and kept them in the Mews with the Falcons until all murmurs of rebellion died down. I’m sure it’s a historical footnote for you, but no one in Ardence has forgotten.”
“I’m not saying the Empire would never do something like that.” I smoothed out my voice, trying to make it reasonable. “I’m saying they didn’t. The doge and the Falconers don’t know anything about this.”
“They must know.” Domenic shook his head. “The whole Ardentine Embassy is on fire with the news. The courier lamps are flashing nonstop with it. I’ve now heard over the lamps from several people with firsthand knowledge of the incident, including my brother, and a friend whose child was taken.”
“A friend! Not Venasha?”
“No, no.” He lifted his palms, warding off the idea. “Venasha’s baby is fine. A family friend; no one you know. But the point is, this is no rumor. It really happened.”
I couldn’t reconcile Domenic’s earnest expression with the doge’s fury at not knowing of the incident. I pressed my fingers to my forehead. “What really happened, exactly?”
Domenic sucked in a long breath. “During a grand state ball, when most of the high nobles of Ardence were out carousing late into the night, groups of Falconers and imperial soldiers stormed into the homes of over a dozen of the most powerful lords in Ardence and seized their children. Even though they weren’t mage-marked. The Falconers had an imperial writ and seal they showed the governesses and nursemaids brave enough to challenge their authority.”
I stared at him. He sounded so sure. “There must have been some mistake.”
“There was no mistake. The Falconers left letters in place of the children they took, under the seal of the Serene Empire, declaring Raverra had taken the children to ensure their parents’ cooperation. When the parents stormed up to the embassy demanding to see their children, the Serene Envoy refused.”
“That doesn’t sound right. What did she say?”
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