“Because I wanted to watch and make sure no one was tailing you. I wanted to see if anyone noticed your arrival. It’s easier to be your spy if I stay in the shadows.”
I poked his ribs, making him flinch again. “You could have snuck into my room last night instead of watching me from the street.”
He tugged me back into his arms and plucked another kiss from my lips. “Missed me, did you?”
“Gideon,” I said, my tone serious, “you’ve been with me every day. In here.” I tapped my temple. “In here.” I touched my chest over my heart. “But it’s not the same. Never knowing for sure whether you were safe and well—” My voice broke. Tears burned in the back of my throat. I swallowed, trying to maintain my composure.
“I know.” His voice was low and gruff. He dropped his chin and touched his forehead to mine. “I know, Evie. It was a little bit like torture, that uncertainty.”
I slumped against him and raised my chin, our mouths reconnecting. “Agony.”
He flicked his tongue against mine and drew away. “Torment.”
“How come, when you say it, torment doesn’t sound like such a bad thing?”
He made a hungry sound deep in his throat. “One of these days, we might find out just how right you are.”
Heat flooded through me, a tidal wave of warmth and desire. Thunder crashed. Lightning crackled, clawing across the sky. “Don’t bring the storms down on me,” he muttered against my ear.
“I don’t know... this time you might like it.” I kissed him again, and he had no more complaints about the weather.
Later, he held me against his side as we nestled together on a wicker lounger tucked in a corner, far away from the rain. “What was your plan tonight?” he asked. “You don’t get dressed up to go to balls just for the fun of it. I’m guessing it has something to do with the Marenatos.”
I huffed. He seemed to be always one step ahead of me. “How do you know about them?”
“I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t.”
“I was hoping to, uh, bump into their Magician. Or his apprentice.”
“Bartolomeo DeLaguna? Or... Taviano, right? Taviano Pesce.”
I huffed again. “If you already know everything, why are you asking me questions?”
“What were you going to do when you found him?”
I fingered the gold strand around my neck. “We have a Magician now. Her name is Brigette. She worked a spell on this necklace, which is supposed to make people be truthful when they talk to me.”
“I saw you had picked up another stray.”
“She’s a lot more than that.” I explained the difficulties of her relationship with Magic and pain. “She’s controlling it for now, but she hasn’t had to work any major Magic yet. I’m afraid of what it’ll do to her if she does.”
“But she’s powerful?”
I nodded. “I really think she is. I think we were brought together for a reason. With the help of this necklace, I was hoping, maybe, to get DeLaguna or Taviano to tell me where they’re keeping Jackie and anything else that might be useful.”
“Then I guess I should stop distracting you.” He exhaled loudly and stood, tugging me to my feet. “Time for you to get back to work.” His grip on my hand tightened. “But please, be careful. This is a dangerous game you’re playing.”
I threaded my fingers through his. “Are you going to keep hiding from me?”
His dim figure ducked its head. “I’ll be watching. And I’ll find you later tonight. I promise.”
He escorted me to the door and faded into the shadows.
In the ballroom, the masquerade raged on. During my absence, many had overindulged. With their inhibitions lowered, the fine lords and ladies of Isolas had surrendered to their baser impulses. They’d given up formal dancing, and bodies writhed together, lips and fingers touching, stroking, sampling. The masks stayed on, though—that one rule remained strictly enforced. Most likely, the masks played a bigger part in the partiers’ brazen behavior than the intoxicants they’d consumed—anonymity was an alluring thing. I squashed down my dread and discomfort, adjusted my mask, and tried my best to look like I wanted to be there rather than relaxing in my room, wearing my nightgown, and tucked under the bed quilts while sipping a cup of tea.
Maybe snuggling with Gideon, too, if I were lucky.
I scanned the room, seeking DeLaguna’s horned mask, and spotted a group of young people clustered in a corner, far away from the dance floor. They exuded an air of boredom and, perhaps, embarrassment, considering many of the adults misbehaving on the dance floor were likely their parents. One young man stood out from the rest, his shock of white-blond hair fluttering around his head like clouds on a breezy day. His black mask covered his face from chin to hairline. Only two round eyeholes interrupted the smooth, featureless visage. No mouth, no nose, only a swirl of silver geometric patterns danced across his black forehead and cheeks.
I eased closer and the mask’s detailed sharpened. Seashells—starfish, scallops, seahorses, conchs—undulated and swirled, animated by Magic.
Ah, said Grandfather. You’ve found Taviano. Now what do you do with him?
Dazzle him with my feminine wiles, I guess.
Taviano had noted my interest, saving me from having to invent a reason to introduce myself. He raised his voice over the orchestra’s music. “Signora Pavone.” Lady Peacock. He bowed.
“Signore Magia.” I curtsied.
“Noi a conosciamo?”
“Susca no parlo Vinitziano.” I don’t speak Vinitzian.
“Is this better?” he asked, switching to Dreutish.
I batted my lashes. “How did you know?”
“Your accent.” He twiddled his fingers, waving aside my question. “You seemed to recognize me, but I am afraid I cannot say the same about you. Perhaps your disguise is too clever, Lady Peacock. I was asking if we know each other.”
