Chapter 40

Annalise slipped away, leaving me once again alone in the room with the brute. Ronald. Prince of Danelind and highway robber? How could it be? It was beyond sense, but there he lay, brawny and dangerous, still sprawled upon Annalise’s bed, his chin thrust high in the air. He looked like a man savoring a sure victory close at hand.

Would he never leave?

At last he rolled himself off the bed and stretched, slowly, languidly, like a cat. And, oh, how he took his time about leaving! Wandering aimlessly about the room, wherever his curious eyes led him—to knickknacks on the mantel, to the drawer under the writing table, even to the contents of a trunk full of clothes. Not that he took anything. He simply touched it all, evaluating it, rejecting it, like one sampling a finger’s worth of every dish on the supper table, but declining to sit and honestly eat a plateful.

When he rifled through the clothes I grew truly afraid. What would stop him from browsing through the armoire? What was wrong with this perverse man? If he had some devilry to do elsewhere, hadn’t he ought to get on with it?

If he found me, I knew, he wouldn’t hesitate. With his two bare hands he’d kill me on the spot.

And then my leviathan, Clair, not knowing why, would perish in the sea.

My eyes filled with tears. Most strangely, this thought made me sadder than my own impending doom. I squeezed the charms around my neck and prayed for deliverance.

Ronald, the bandit prince, laid eyes on the armoire and took a lazy step forward.

So much for deliverance.

The clock on the mantel chimed another quarter hour.

He stopped and looked at the clock, then changed his course and went to the chamber door, passing out of my view. For two or three endless minutes there was silence. He hadn’t left. Nor had he come back.

But then there was a click, the faintest of sounds, like a door latching far away. I angled myself around for a better view.

I could not see him. Nor could I hear him.

For a dreadful stretch of time I waited.

At last I tumbled out the armoire door.

Sure enough, he was gone.

The clock on the mantel said three fifteen. The wedding celebration would be well underway. Afternoon sun gleamed off The Starlight like a warning beacon. Such a lovely ship, shaped as if carved from a single block of wood by a master’s hand, and was it to be the site of a assassination? The Circus Phantasmagoria—what was their role?

And the architects of it all were a bandit prince and my own mentor and sister serpentina. Someone I’d shared my full confidence with. Someone I’d set aside my dreams for.

What could I do? How could I stop this? Who would believe me if I told them?

The king.

I should have warned him.

I could have, after the masquerade. Or even today, I could have tried to tell him my murdering bandit was a guest at his wedding. He would have doubted, but I could have made him believe. My reasons for not trying felt so petty now.

By this time my presence at the wedding reception would surely be missed. Should I make an appearance, I wondered? How could I slip into my seat near Annalise and pretend I knew nothing about her plans? I wasn’t that good of an actress.

Actress!

Oh … 

Could I possibly … ? Would it work?

It was suicide. Almost certainly. But after my cowardice, what else could I do?

It might save King Leopold, and the royal house of Pylander, if my gypsy luck could hold.

I ran out the door and down the corridors, not toward the banquet, but toward the servants’ hall. Through that large hall I could exit the castle unseen by the wedding guests.

Noise of the workers’ wedding celebration reached my ears long before I found the door to the room. His Majesty’s generosity had ordered ale, roast beef, and potatoes for the staff. In happier times, this was the party where I’d feel more at home. No one here bothered with a corset. I sprinted along one side of the room, as fast as I could go, and made my way for the door.

“Evie!” a familiar voice cried just as I’d reached the bottom step out into the vegetable gardens. “What brings you here?”

Aidan must have seen me racing through the room. He ran to where I was, misjudging the distance and nearly toppling into me.

“Sorry,” he said, grinning. “I’ve been wondering where to find you.”

“Well, you’ve found me,” I said, “but I’m in a bit of a hurry.” Except I needed to pause for a breath. Curse these corsets, they barely let a girl inhale.

“You look nice today,” he said. He looked at his feet and said, slowly, like there wasn’t a king about to be murdered, “I’ve been wanting to talk to you.” Then he took a closer look at me. “What’s the matter? Are you all right? Evie, what’s wrong?”

I dragged him farther away from the building, beyond any listening ears. A friendly, familiar Maundley face was water in the desert to me now.

I took a deep breath to tell my tale and instead burst into tears. Confound it!

Aidan’s face melted into concern. He reached out a hand, then hesitated.

“Oh, Aidan,” I said, “I’ve been such a fool!”

His hesitation broke, and he pulled me close to him.

“There, there, Evie,” he said softly, attempting to pat my head despite all the powder in my hair. “It’s all right. It’s long forgotten.”

I wrenched myself out of his grip and wiped my eyes on my sleeve. “What? You … you think this is about you?”

“It isn’t?”

“No!” I shook him off. “I haven’t been a fool for you!” Perhaps that was a bit untrue. “This is someone else.”

His face turned violet, but he thrust out his chin. “Someone else, eh? Already? Some castle dandy?”

“No! It’s … oh, never mind. I don’t need to explain myself to you. You’re a fine one to talk. But I haven’t got time! I’ve got to get to the ship.” I took off once more for the beach.

He jogged effortlessly beside me. “Why, who’s on the ship that’s so important?”

“Nobody, yet,” I panted. I could barely think straight. My mouth just ran away with me. “It’s who will be later on. Those actor brothers, remember? Rudolpho and Alfonso?”

“Oh, them, is it?” He chewed on this information. “That just figures. Them and their curly hair, and their speechifying. Tell me, which one do you fancy, or is one as good as the other?”

We reached the beach. It was harder to run through the sand. Far across the headlands, near the boathouse, I thought I could make out La Commedia dell’Arte’s garishly painted wagon.

“Clair! Clair! I need you!” I called aloud, in case my voice carried farther than thought.

“Who’s Clair?”

“My leviathan,” I said.

“So now he has a name?”

“Yes,” I said. “He does. Do you intend to keep following me around, asking me unwelcome questions?”

He folded his arms across his chest. I noticed for the first time the Sunday suit he wore in celebration of the wedding. In Maundley, he’d be the dapper young man about town indeed.

“Unwelcome, am I?”

“Clair! Clair!” I called till my throat hurt. “Where are you?” I took a deep breath. “Oh, come on, Aidan. It’s just that I don’t have time for this right now.” I avoided his glare. “There’s something much bigger than … Oh, never mind. I’ve got to get on that ship. Clair!”

“Why don’t you ask your princess, then?” he said bitterly. “Or I should say, your queen.”

“She’s not my queen,” I said. “Not anymore. Clair!”

Aidan’s eyes narrowed. “What does that mean?”

A motion over the water caught my eye. Clair raised his shining, dripping head from the waves and bowed in greeting to both of us.

Here I am, Mistress.

Thank heaven, I thought.

I am ready.

For what? I asked.

You sounded like you were calling me to battle.

How did he know? I am. Meet me down by the boathouse in a few minutes’ time.

Up at the castle, the music stopped and didn’t resume. The celebrating voices faded. I didn’t have much time left.

“Was it a nice wedding, Evie?”

The question was so unexpected, so bizarre, coming from Aidan, that all I could do was gape at him.

“Saint Bartholemew’s,” he said. “That’s an impressive bit of stonework, that.”

I nodded. “It was a nice wedding. Saint Bart’s is magnificent.”

I looked around me at the beach, the castle, the vast city of Chalcedon, and the university towers, painted rose by the setting sun. And Aidan’s face.

He was wrong. His was a most welcome face to me, whatever fool thing he might think or say. I wanted to tell him everything, about Ronnie and Annalise and the circus and what was brewing, but if I did, he’d only prevent me from doing what I must do now. Maybe I even wanted to tell him for that very reason. But I couldn’t. I wanted to tell him to send a message of my love to Grandfather, when all was done. But we’d had that conversation once before, one that I remembered too often and too well.

If I made it onto the ship, whether I prevented a tragedy or not, I was sure I’d never see Aidan’s face again. I did not expect to survive my encounter with the bandit, his murdering lady, and their hired killers. Perhaps I could warn and help the king. But one thing was clear. If I made it onto the ship, I would almost certainly never make it off.

“Yes. Well.” Aidan looked out over the water, to where The Starlight was moored. “Good luck finding your actor brothers and getting on the ship, then,” he said. “As for me, I’ve had my fill of ships. Mother’s right. Don’t expect I ever will sail again. Or swim.”

I felt the sting in his words.

“Good-bye, Aidan,” I said, feeling tears once again. It took all I had to force them back. “I think you’ll become one of Chalcedon’s great builders. You’ll make your mother proud.” He watched me without speaking. “I truly wish you well. But now I have to go.”