The King's Seal

by Amy Kuivalainen

  “I know, cara. You are too talented for your own good sometimes.”

  AFTER THEY’D SHOWERED and dressed in dry clothes, Alexis told Penelope about Elazar and Constantine’s discovery.

  “I sleep off a hangover for one morning, and this is what happens. Constantine could’ve told me he had Vatican ties. I would’ve asked him about the pope references in Tim’s manuscript,” Penelope said while combing out her damp curls.

  “Constantine funded the building of most of the first churches in Rome. He was never going to let those ties slip, even if he was fluid about which denomination he was worshipping in. It’s good that he and Elazar are working on it and freeing you up to come with me.” He was smiling, but his eyes were still troubled. Penelope couldn’t blame him for being concerned after almost getting washed out into the Grand Canal. If she had known that she was going to be even remotely successful at creating a wave, she would’ve waited for him to be there.

  “Where are we going?” She took his hand.

  “My tower, so you can show me the note you found in Nereus’s journal, and then we’re going to try to get back into the astrolabe. I need to see what I’m dealing with. I might be able to find an order to her catalog that you might not be able to.”

  “I was more concerned about finding a way out than searching for a system. Here’s to hoping the astrolabe will let you inside of it.”

  Upstairs in the tower workroom, Penelope studied the pages of the open journals spread about. “Wow, you’ve been busy.”

  “I’m hopelessly fascinated. Nereus never talked about any of this magic. There are a few things that I recognize—like how to navigate your way through a desert when you lose your direction in a sandstorm, how to make it rain, wards to protect against illness—but there is so much she never taught me.” Alexis was unsuccessful at hiding the hurt in his voice.

  “She probably thought you were too advanced and had no need to learn it. She was always very proud that you were her student, and I’m sure if she felt you needed to know this stuff, she would’ve taught you.”

  Alexis’s brows lowered. “Like the fact that you were her heir or that lighting the incense would make you have a vision of Poseidon? Honestly, Penelope, I feel like I didn’t know her at all.”

  Penelope lifted his hand and kissed his knuckles. “She had her secrets for a reason. You can’t control everything, my love. Now, let me find this book for you so you can see the note I found.”

  After digging through his pile of notes and books, Penelope found the slim volume she was searching for. It was bound in dark blue leather that was starting to crack, and the pages were soft from being handled often. “It was in here somewhere. I found it the night you went to Florence. I needed a distraction after Aelia told me you killed Himmler.”

  Alexis let out a noise of frustration. “It’s like a man can’t have any secrets at all anymore. They turn into such gossips as soon as I leave the room. God knows if they’re even telling you the right version of the stories.”

  Penelope raised a quizzical brow. “So, you didn’t kill him?”

  “Yes, I did, and I’d cheerfully do it again, and I’m not ashamed of that. I’m only irritated that they like to tell you these things behind my back to goad me.”

  “Probably—oh, here it is!” Penelope gave him the open book and showed him the scrawled lines in the margin. “I couldn’t make sense of the diagrams or any of the theory. Whoever wrote this note seemed to have figured it out and decided to include a simpler explanation.”

  Alexis frowned at the scribble. “I can’t even read this. This isn’t Atlantean.”

  “Maybe the Living Language is translating it for me. It says, ‘Reach out your mind to the water, and it will listen to you. Touch it with your magic, and it will obey you.’ It’s a bit vague, but it worked.”

  Alexis flicked through the pages. “This is one of Nereus’s earlier journals from when she was just beginning to learn magic. The notes aren’t written in her hand, so perhaps they are Poseidon’s comments on her experiments with water. She never taught this to me, but perhaps she taught the magicians who had an affinity for water.”

  “I suppose I could go through each one, search for his notes, and see if they work for me.” Penelope took the astrolabe out of her pocket and placed it on the workbench. “But hunting Poseidon’s notes can wait until after we find Nereus’s necromancy experiments.”

  “Another part of magic she abhorred but seemed to practice when convenient.”

  “You know Atlas made her do the experiments to bring Poseidon back. She risked her life and position to sabotage the experiment so they’d believe it impossible.” Alexis’s grief for Nereus and confusion over her actions was like a raw wound. Penelope put her arms around his waist. “Forward, not backward. Don’t be angry at Nereus. It’ll mess with your perception, and I need you too much to lose you to past hurts you can’t change.”

  Alexis wrapped himself around her, bringing her close and resting his cheek on the top of her head. “I know, cara. I’m sorry. I miss her, and that’s why I’m angry at her. It’s stupid reasoning.”

  “No, that’s grief. I want to kick Tim’s ass at least once a day, but mostly, I just miss him.” Penelope tilted her head up. “Are you ready to search through a bunch of amazing magical books with me?”

  Alexis’s smile was sly. “I love it when you talk dirty to me.”

  Penelope freed one hand, picked up the astrolabe, and flicked it open. The red sigil was pulsing with light as if it were waiting for them. “Hold tight, and don’t let me go.”

  “Never,” Alexis said and gripped her tighter.

  Penelope pressed on the sigil, and they were sucked inside the device.

  THIS TIME, Penelope was more prepared for the fall. Alexis caught her as the astrolabe’s interior materialized around her, then lowered her to her unsteady feet.

  “I don’t think I’m ever going to enjoy that,” she said.

  “You’ve had your body changed by magic. It should never feel natural.” Indigo eyes scanned the haphazardly stacked books around them. “The Archives must have hidden these after the attack on Nereus. Many of these bindings seem familiar.” He ran his fingers over the chains that secured the books to the shelves.

  “I told you there were at least a hundred of them.” Penelope studied the shelves. Last time she was there, she was too panicked to think clearly. “How are we going to tell if the books we’re hunting are even here?”

  “We’ll have to go through them. But we’re going to make it a bit easier with magic. The books we need are from Atlantis, so if we start with the oldest of them we might have a better chance of locating them.”

  The feel of Alexis’s magic crept over Penelope’s skin as he raised his hands, made a series of small movements, and whispered something in Atlantean. The scent of firecrackers and spice filled the room as the magic rushed out of him and danced along the shelves in a streak of pale blue light. As the light traveled over the books, some began to glow with different colored auras.

  “The warmer the color, the older the book.” Alexis reached for a glowing red book on a high shelf.

  “Okay, but we can’t forget that time works differently in here. We don’t want to cause a panic if the others can’t find us,” Penelope said, then joined his search.

  “I’m hoping that they’re too busy to notice we’re gone. Constantine was getting in contact with the Vatican to inquire about any trace of Riccoldo da Monte di Croce, as well as organizing the rest of them to start planning an invasion of Milos.” Alexis was nonchalant as he browsed through a notebook.

  Penelope paused, her stomach flipping. She hadn’t thought far enough ahead to consider how they were going to get close enough to use the ring on Thevetat. Kreios had said they were all going to be on Milos. Just how many people had Thevetat recruited to his cause?

  “I’m happy he’s here to do it,” Penelope said. “I remember studying his campaigns as an undergrad. I
suppose if I were going to choose a general to plan a battle for me, it would be him or Alexander the Great.” She didn’t add that their army was only nine people with Constantine, and she didn’t really count herself as any kind of a fighter. Six of those people are the strongest living magicians on a high tide, her mind clarified. “Alexis?”

  He didn’t look up. “Yes, cara?”

  “How do the priests of Thevetat get their magic?”

  Alexis put the book he was looking at back on the shelf and reached for another. “All of their power comes from their worship of him. The sacrifices feed his power, and then he shares that power with them.”

  “So they aren’t like magicians that have acquired their own individual magic through study and practice. What magic they have comes solely from him?”

  “That’s right. Why do you ask?”

  “If Thevetat is going to be using the tide and all of his power to bind himself to a body and give it life, he won’t be focused on sharing it with all of his followers at the same time. It won’t matter how many of them there are because they won’t have access to their power source.”

  “Which means they’ll only be humans during the ritual,” Alexis said, finishing her train of thought. “It will be an edge but not necessarily an easy win. They will have numbers and plenty of weapons. Thevetat and Abaddon know they’ll be vulnerable while completing the magic, which means they will surround themselves with guards. Humans are still plenty vicious without adding magic to the mix.”

  “Still, it’ll be something else for Constantine to consider—whether he’s planning to meet a bunch of magic users or machine guns.”

  Alexis gave her a long, unreadable look, and the hair on her arms rose as his magic leaped up. “I hate that you even have to consider such things, Penelope—that you need to think in this way. Bringing you into this war is the most selfish thing I’ve ever done.”

  Penelope fought the urge to throw a book at him. “Alexis, stop pretending like it was your choice. Can you read the script of an ancient ring? No. Are you Poseidon’s heir? No. You need to accept that I was always meant to be a part of this. Our fates are literally tied together. You didn’t have the power to keep me out of this.”

  “Knowing the truth doesn’t make it any easier. You don’t like it when I leave for a dangerous conflict, so don’t ask me to be fine with you doing the same. I love you too much not to be afraid to lose you.”

  “Our fates are tied together. You couldn’t lose me even if you wanted to,” she tried to joke. He didn’t smile. “Alexis, stop thinking about locking me in a tower or I swear—”

  She didn’t see him move, but he was suddenly in front of her, pressing her back against the wall and kissing her. His magic was a roar in her ears, and she tried not to let the sensation of it overwhelm her. In her mind, she saw it as an ocean of power, and she focused on calming the storm-tossed waves. Alexis groaned and pulled back from her.

  “Thank you,” he whispered against her mouth, hands still tangled in her hair. “I’m sorry.”

  “I love you, but you need to accept that we’re in this together. However horrible and terrifyingly wonderful.” She gripped the sides of his entari robe and held him to her.

  “I do accept it. I just fear what I’ll do if anything happens to you.”

  “I know. Help me kick Thevetat back to where he came from, and we won’t have to worry about any of this ever again. We’re after the red books, right?” Penelope said, trying to move his focus from his anxiety to the task at hand. Dealing with her own was trial enough.

  Alexis kissed her forehead and stepped back. “Yes, cara. Anything red or orange is a sure bet.”

  When they had uncovered all of the oldest books, they placed them into two small stacks. “I suppose we should see it as a blessing that there are less than twenty of them.” Penelope piled them into Alexis’s arms.

  “It will keep us busy enough.” He peered at her. “I’m sorry, for…before.”

  Penelope hugged him, books and all. “It’s okay. I think I’ve freaked out enough in the past few months to make us even. Okay, astrolabe, return us.”

  “That’s all you need to do?” Alexis managed to ask before they were dragged back to his tower.

  PHAIDROS AND CONSTANTINE were sitting at one of the worktables arguing.

  “Finally! You two took your time.” Phaidros turned to Constantine. “I told you they would turn up.”

  Alexis placed his armload of books down on the table. “What are you two doing here?”

  “Waiting for you! You could have left a note saying that you were going to Alice-in-Wonderland yourself into a magical device.” Constantine folded his arms in annoyance.

  “I told you they would figure it out and complain,” said Penelope.

  “He worried all the same.” Phaidros nodded at Constantine. “They’re back now. You can stop pouting and tell them.”

  “Tell us what?” Alexis asked.

  “My contact in the Vatican Secret Archive got back to me. There is a letter from Riccoldo to Pope John XXII asking him to guard his most sacred relic—a ring that was given to him during his time in the Holy Land.”

  “Does the Vatican still have it?” Alexis asked.

  “Remember Tim saw the ring getting passed from a pope to someone else?” Penelope reminded him.

  Constantine nodded. “Exactly. Elazar has been looking into those passages, and he believes it might have been Pope Sixtus IV in the vision.”

  Alexis spared an uneasy glance in Phaidros’s direction. The golden magician looked unusually still and guarded.

  “What is it?” asked Penelope.

  “I had a complicated relationship with that particular pope,” Phaidros said.

  That was a surprise. “Complicated how?”

  “Phaidros was in love with his nephew’s wife.” Alexis’s disapproval was still evident, though Phaidros didn’t look an ounce remorseful.

  “Sixtus was responsible for the building of the Sistine Chapel as well as the Vatican Secret Archive,” Constantine said. “That he had knowledge of such a relic in his vaults isn’t a surprise. He would’ve been curating what was placed under the Archives’ many locks and protocols.”

  Phaidros’s cool demeanor vanished. “Sixtus was a grasping, political despot whose machinations almost destroyed Florence because of his vendetta against the Medicis.”

  “Focus, please.” Alexis shot him a look. “Sixtus had the ring and gave it to someone. Who would he care about enough to give them such a powerful relic?”

  “Girolamo. Who the fuck else would he give it to?” Phaidros spat the words out like poison.

  “Who’s Girolamo?” Penelope asked.

  “He was Sixtus’s nephew.” Alexis ran a hand over his face in frustration. “It seems this journey is going to unearth every ghost we have.”

  “Because it’s a damn prophecy,” muttered Phaidros.

  Penelope turned to him. “What do you mean by that?”

  “Prophecies are tricky and often weave people, events, and time together. This ring of Solomon has been chasing us through the centuries because we’re all tied to the prophecy: Constantine was our ally; Alexis and Zo were at Frederick’s court; Alexis arrived at Acre not long after the sacking and would’ve been in Baghdad the same time as the priest; the priest was a Florentine and lived there when I did; the Vatican connection links us back to Constantine and now bloody Girolamo and Sixtus. You see? We’re woven through time together, chasing each other back and forth. And you’re the key to the prophecy, Penelope. That’s why it was Tim’s destiny to find the scroll and bring you into it.”

  “Not to mention Poseidon’s meddling premonition of the war against Thevetat that predates even Solomon’s trinket,” added Alexis.

  “The Fates and their games nor God’s providence change the fact that we are all bound together in this matter.” Constantine’s gaze settled on Alexis. “It could very well be one of the reasons I’ve not been given the r
elease of death. It could be the key to all of your long lives. Once this final hand is dealt with Thevetat, we could all go back to being mortal.”

  “If that’s the case, you’d better get ready for another dip in the baptismal font,” Phaidros said, with only a little sarcasm.

  Penelope dropped into one of Alexis’s reading chairs. “This is a lot to take in. I knew all of you related to the different periods identified in Tim’s writings, but I thought that was the result of living for so long, not because a prophecy has been making you chase an object you didn’t even know about.”

  Phaidros pursed his lips, then nodded. “If you want to get really meta about it—you could’ve been drawn to Atlantis because of your link to the prophecy. You knew deep in your guts that Atlantis was real, and you wanted to be the one to find it, and that obsession forced you onto this path. I imagine it was the same for Tim and his irrational love for the Dead Sea.”

  Penelope’s heart raced. She put her head between her knees as the room spun. “Oh my God.”

  “That’s enough, Phaidros.” Alexis’s warm fingers came to her neck, and he massaged the tense muscles there. “Breathe, Penelope. It’s going to be all right, amore.”

  Phaidros shrugged. “It doesn’t change the fact that I’m right. I’d know—I’ve been caught up in more prophecies than any of us.”

  “Probably God’s way of punishing you for being such an asshole,” Constantine muttered.

  Penelope sat up as her breathing evened out. “Enough arguing. We can’t do anything to counteract the mystical complications of prophecies. We can find this damn ring. Tell me about Girolamo and Sixtus.”

  Alexis nodded, getting back to business. “They were responsible for stirring up the Pazzis in their conspiracy to wipe out the Medicis and take over Florence. Girolamo was Sixtus’s right-hand man in Rome, especially after Girolamo’s brother, Pietro, died.”

  “He wouldn’t have been half as successful politically if it weren’t for Caterina. He was a ridiculous ass of a man,” said Phaidros.