“I swear to God, Aracely, I will tie you to this pile of rubble and burn it again with you inside!”
Zander loosed one of his daggers just as Ignacio raised his sword above his head, his features twisted in fury.
“Tell me now!” he roared. “WHERE IS I—aaaghh!” He dropped the sword, looking in horror at his hand. The handle of Zander’s knife stuck out of it, the tip jutting from Ignacio’s palm.
Ace took the opportunity to kick at his knees, knocking him to the ground. Ignacio lunged forward, grabbing Ace by the hair with his uninjured hand and attempting to slam her head into the ground.
But Zander was already there, leveling a swift kick to the side of his head. He grabbed the back of Ignacio’s shirt, pulling him away from Ace roughly. He reached forward and gripped the handle of his dagger, ripping it out of Ignacio’s bloodied hand. Ignacio screamed, then went silent as Zander placed the blade against his throat. His other hand tangled in the hair atop his head, holding him still as he knelt, panting.
“Don’t fucking move,” Zander growled, shifting the blade for emphasis. “Unless she tells you to.”
As he spoke, Ace rose from the ground like a wrathful spirit. Her cutlass dragged along the ground as she moved.
Zander kept his hand tangled in Ignacio’s hair, holding his lover’s husband’s traitorous, murderous head in place as the villain cradled his bleeding hand. He removed his dagger from Ignacio’s throat and stepped aside, holding his head aloft like a gift.
“My lady,” he said.
Ignacio looked at Ace with the contempt of a man about to die.
“You should have just told me where it is,” Ignacio bit out. His breath came in short bursts.
Ace walked slowly forward. “My family’s legacy is not yours to claim,” she said. “I have made a promise, here on this hallowed ground. A promise to take what is mine. My life. My inheritance. My vengeance.”
Ace raised her cutlass, pointing it menacingly at Ignacio’s stunned face.
“Go to hell, Ignacio,” she said.
Zander let go. Ace reared back her arm, whipping her cutlass out in front of her and slicing Ignacio’s throat with a loud cry. He fell to the ground, and the world was suddenly very still.
Ace stood there for a long while, staring at his lifeless body. Finally, she looked up at Zander and gave him a wry smile.
“My lady?” she said.
Zander chuckled. “It sounded quite dashing in my head.”
Ace’s smile widened. “It was dashing,” she said.
She looked down again at the lifeless body at her feet and her smile vanished. They stood silently again as Ace’s eyes swam with emotion. “When we were on the boat, he told me how he did it,” she said finally. “How he killed my parents, I mean.” She looked up at him, and Zander waited quietly for her to continue. “He gave them a gift the last time I saw them. A bottle of wine. It was poisoned. One of Sanz’s men watched as they opened it, drank, and eventually fell asleep. Then, in the wake of the lightning storm, he set the loggia ablaze.”
“I’m so sorry, Ace,” Zander whispered.
Ace took a deep breath. Tears ran down her face. “Aye, me too. But at least now I know for sure.” After a few moments of silence, she said, “May I have my compass?”
“Of course.” Zander fished the wooden compass from his pocket and gave it to Ace.
She gestured for him to follow her, and they walked outside to the back of the house. A group of pillars that used to be arches and a small empty pond marked the area as the loggia, where Chandace and Nicolas died.
The light of the moon pooled over Ace’s features as she looked out at the vineyards, the only part of the property that appeared to still be maintained. She turned the compass over in her hands and twisted the bottom. The base of the wood came off, revealing a small inner compartment containing a folded piece of parchment. She pulled it out, spreading it open in front of her to reveal a map.
Zander took a few steps forward to get a closer look at the parchment. The outline of a building—the building that lay burnt at their backs—took up one side. The other side was dotted with small landmarks Zander couldn’t identify. A trail of dashes led to one of the landmarks—a large X—with the number 34 scrawled beside it.
“Is this…” Zander began.
“A treasure map,” Ace finished. She placed her compass atop the map, pointed her body North, and walked. “This way,” she said, carefully measuring her steps. “34 paces.”
34 paces later, Ace stood at the edge of the vineyard a few yards away from a large Beech tree. Upon arriving, she folded her map, returned it to the compass, and sank to her knees. Zander joined her, using his knife to cut up the soil so she could dig it away with the handle of her cutlass. When the soil turned soft and moist, they used their hands to shovel it away, eventually revealing a small wooden chest. They cleared away the dirt surrounding it, allowing Ace to wedge her fingers against the sides of the chest and lift it out with a grunt.
She squatted in front of the chest, a shy expression on her face.
“I… don’t know how much you know about my family,” she said finally. “Or about any of this, really.” She gestured vaguely around her.
Zander settled onto the ground and folded his legs. “I’ve heard tale of the mythical Vidal pirate treasure, if that’s what you mean,” he said. “And I heard that while most of your parents’ acquaintances were titillated with the idea, Ignacio was obsessed with it.”
Ace nodded in confirmation, but she didn’t meet Zander’s eyes. Her fingers tapped rhythmically on the lid of the chest.
“Theo and Yarrow gave me the basics when it came to Ignacio and your engagement,” Zander said. “I would love to know more, anything you’ll tell me. When you’re ready.” He dipped his head down, attempting to meet her downcast eyes, and she raised her head to look him in the face.
“I suppose we have a lot to talk about,” she said.
“No time like the present,” Zander said, and smiled encouragingly.
Ace took another deep breath, settled more comfortably on the ground, and began.
“When Ignacio Sanz arrived in our lives, my family was at our height—at least as far as our land-faring days were concerned. My parents were comfortable and content. I managed some of their business affairs, and I was good at it. But I dreamed of going back to the sea. Every time Theo and Yarrow showed up on shore, a little piece of me thought about running away with them. But I loved my parents. I tried my best to envision my future here, not out there, like they wanted.
“When my father told me he’d received an offer of marriage, my first instinct was to run. I should have listened to that instinct. But my parents were so happy. It was a proper match, far beyond anything they’d dreamed for me. Their own marriage was born of a whirlwind romance, like something from a fairy tale. But their love was hard won. It required sacrifices. They wanted something else for me—something easier, I think. Because I loved my parents, I convinced myself they knew what was best. I convinced myself I could be happy as a Viscount’s wife.
“One day, I planned to visit Ignacio’s home for dinner. We had spent time together before, but it would be my first time visiting his home without my parents. It felt like a sort of test, an opportunity to imagine my life as a Viscountess before the wedding. I wore this terrible pink dress my mother picked out, and I remember my father teasing me, wondering whether the Viscount would recognize me when he arrived.” She chuckled. “I left in his carriage… and I never saw them again. A servant rushed in during dessert to tell us my home had burned to the ground, and my parents had died.”
