The King's Seal

by Amy Kuivalainen

  “The pain never goes away. If anyone tries to tell you otherwise, they are liars or haven’t experienced true loss,” he said, which only made her want to cry more.

  They kept walking until they came to the Gothic iconostasis that marked the main part of the church from the presbytery, the statues of the apostles and the Virgin looking down on them. There was no evening mass, so they walked through the marble archway and sat down on an empty pew that looked on the sarcophagus of Saint Mark, sitting under its baldachin of green marble and alabaster.

  Penelope leaned close to Constantine. “Can I ask what happened with your son?”

  “I had a feeling you would.”

  “You wouldn’t have mentioned it if you didn’t want to talk about it.”

  The corner of Constantine’s mouth rose in a wry smile. “You have a point. My firstborn was a special boy. He was the product of a love marriage, something my other children couldn’t claim. I won’t tell you about Minerva. I still hate talking about her death as much as I hate talking about Crispus. You only get the one today.”

  “I can understand that. You loved her?”

  “Deeply. Then she died, and I married the daughter of my defeated enemy, Maximian.”

  “That’s brutal.”

  “You have no idea. My mother tried to warn me, but it was done to regain some of the peace the civil war had caused.”

  “I can’t imagine what that must’ve been like.” The thought of being trapped in a marriage for political reasons horrified her.

  “I wanted to be emperor more than anything else. There was nothing I wouldn’t have done—that I didn’t do—to secure that, including marrying a hateful woman like Fausta and making her give me heirs.”

  “How did she handle having a stepson around?”

  “Well enough. Crispus was handsome and charming, like his father.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “He was becoming a competent leader with armies who were loyal to him. Fausta saw it too, and despite our years together and the children we’d had, she still had the taint of her father running through her veins. God, that woman grew spite like a rose garden grows weeds.” Constantine’s mouth thinned, stormy eyes growing cold. “I won’t tell you the full, winding tragedy of it. It’s too damn sad. When information came to me that Crispus was planning to use his influence with the army to overthrow me, I flew into a rage, filled with hurt and betrayal that cut deeper than any knife could. I acted too quickly in that anger—too decisively. I had him arrested and executed. I was emperor. I wouldn’t allow another civil war to break out. Alexis had been on a mission for me in the Danube, keeping an eye on the restless barbarians. As soon as word reached him that Crispus had been arrested, he magicked himself to Rome, but he was too late. The deed was done.”

  Penelope didn’t dare look at him, nor did she reach out to touch his clenched fists with gentle hands. She knew if she did, he’d stop talking, and a blind man could have seen the wound inside him needed lancing. The priests moved around the church, speaking softly with visitors and congregation members. Surely Constantine would be better off talking to one of them.

  “The night Alexis returned, I honestly thought he was going to kill me. He loved Crispus like a son. He’d been one of his tutors and often fought with Lactantius on what to teach him. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—believe that Crispus would be willing to betray his family, even with the evidence we gave him. He swore he’d never help me again. Then, a few months later, he reappeared with a satchelful of letters and witness statements. Alexis had found proof that Crispus wasn’t trying to start a civil war. It had been Fausta all along. She’d been trying her best to seduce him, amongst others, to gain favor and influence. Crispus had been trying to find how the conspiracy was connected before he came to me with it. I didn’t even give him a chance to explain. I couldn’t even look at him when I had him arrested. The order was carried out before my temper had cooled enough to think it through.”

  “And Fausta?” Penelope whispered, mouth dry.

  Constantine smiled then—a sharp and deadly thing that sent goose bumps down her spine. “Alexis got Fausta. It would’ve been dishonorable for a husband to kill his wife, though God knew I wanted to choke the breath from her hateful body. Alexis drowned her with his bare hands, and even that couldn’t satisfy his grief and rage at me. Not that I blamed him. It had been an ugly business, and he disappeared shortly after. He checked in occasionally, but it would be years before we spoke again.”

  Constantine unclenched his fist and took Penelope’s hand. “Alexis and I have always argued, but I’m so happy that you’ve brought us all together again, Penelope.”

  “Even if we’re all going to die because we’re caught up in a prophecy?”

  The coldness melted from Constantine’s expression. “Especially because we all might die. Who knows—that damn prophecy might be the key to all of us being entangled together in these too-long lives. If we fulfill it, we might finally live and die as we should.”

  “Does that possibility frighten you?”

  “No. I’ve been dead once already, and I have lived long enough as it is. I know all the magicians feel the same. Maybe Aelia would complain about the wrinkles, but that would be the extent of it.”

  Penelope muffled her laughter so as not to appear disrespectful. “You’re right. She’d really hate that.”

  “Thank you for listening to this old man’s confession.”

  “Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me.”

  “You’re not repulsed by what I did? What Alexis did?”

  Penelope looked up at the shining gold mosaics and saints above her, trying to formulate the best answer. “Who am I to judge? You seem to be carrying plenty of guilt without my sentence to make the load heavier. As for Alexis? He’s all about justice. I know that. He’s probably seeking his idea of it right now. It’s who he is—a dark part of him, but a part all the same. I have to love that part with all the rest; otherwise, what I feel for him isn’t really love. So no, I’m not repulsed by either of you. You wanted to talk about Crispus, and I’m a substitute for Alexis, because you don’t really want forgiveness from your God or me, but him.”

  “You are as astute as you are beautiful, Penelope. Maybe Alexis is the god I need forgiveness from after all.”

  “Maybe don’t refer to him as a god while we’re in here. I don’t need to be hit with a lightning bolt on top of everything else.”

  “If Alexis were a lesser man with a larger ego, he could’ve set himself up as a god. He can perform wonders and deal out justice with the best of them. It’s probably why he’s never felt the need to bend his knee to any deity. He knows there’s something bigger and more powerful than himself in this universe, but there’s no horror or paradise that can be promised that he hasn’t already seen and lived through. Some people would say it’s a hard thing to love a man like that.”

  “Some people are idiots,” Penelope said before checking herself.

  Constantine only laughed. “Most people are idiots. Let’s continue our walk, Doctor Bryne. I require wine after that conversation.”

  They’d just made it out of the main doors when a woman screamed, “There she is! That’s the bitch responsible for Florence.”

  Penelope’s head whipped about. The woman in the yellow dress stood pointing, a crowd gathering behind her. A flash of hatred flickered through the woman’s eyes before jumping to the person beside her, running through the crowd and making them angrier. Their voices rose as they spewed angry accusations in Italian and English.

  Magic shuddered under Penelope’s skin, trying to warn her of the danger. Constantine had moved her behind him, clearly not needing magic to see a fight brewing. He pulled a knife from somewhere, and the people shifted away from them.

  “Back inside, Penelope,” he said.

  She pushed her way back through the exit. Constantine followed, and after a moment, the angry crowd did too. He put his hand on the small of her
back, guiding her toward the altar. He spoke to a priest in rapid Italian, pointing to the crowd. The priest looked at Penelope in shock before ushering them behind the golden altar. Penelope pulled her phone out and rang Marco.

  “Buongiorno, Penelope. What trouble have you gotten into now?”

  “I’m stuck inside the basilica. Someone recognized me from the news and has stirred up a damn crowd.”

  “Is Alexis with you?”

  “No, he’s in Vienna. I’m with Constantine.” She paced up and down the tiles. More priests had gathered, and Constantine was talking with them, his words quick and urgent.

  “Stay where you are. I’ll be there soon with some polizia to break them up. Don’t do anything brave, Penelope.”

  Marco hung up. Penelope’s finger hovered over Alexis’s number, but he was caught up in God knew what, and contacting him now could endanger him.

  “One of the priests has gone to fetch the polizia locale that usually patrols the piazza, and the others have gone to clear the church.” Constantine joined her where she stood. “Don’t worry, Penelope. We’ll get you out of here.”

  “Marco was right. He told me to go give a statement before this escalated, and I didn’t want to listen,” she said, the angry faces still swimming in front of her.

  Constantine lifted her chin. “Look at me. This is not your fault. These people only want someone to blame and take their pain and hate out on. They aren’t going to lay a finger on you. Do you hear me?”

  “Yes.” She swallowed down her tears.

  A short time later, raised voices inside the church announced the arrival of a pissed-off Marco and a group of uniformed officers. He looked relieved when he saw her and the big bodyguard beside her.

  “Friend of Alexis?” Marco asked, staring at Constantine.

  “Good friend,” Penelope confirmed with a nod, fighting the urge to hug him.

  “We need to take you to the station and get this mess sorted out.”

  “I’m coming with you,” Constantine said. “Alexis would murder me if I let you go alone.”

  Marco looked the opposite of enthused. “Great, another overprotective man. Just what we need to stir up the media.”

  “If they ask, I’ll tell them we’re dating.” Constantine gave Penelope a wink.

  She glared at him. “You do, and I’ll let Alexis murder you.”

  “Fine,” Marco said. “He can come if it means we can get you out of here.”

  They formed a protective ring around her before stepping out into the night and into the shouts and flashing of smartphone cameras. Constantine had her by one hand and Marco the other as they escorted her to the waiting police boat. All she could do was follow their instructions and wish Alexis would hurry back to Venice.

  IT HAD STARTED out as another peaceful day. Now he was back at the station but not on duty, feeling out of place and unable to help as Penelope was locked into an interview. Marco did manage to convince the officers on duty to let him and Constantine sit on the other side of the mirrored glass and observe. It wasn’t like Penelope was being arrested. She was willingly giving a statement, and hopefully, the media would get what they needed and back off.

  “Thank the saints that Alexis is in Vienna.” Marco chewed on his lip and desperately wished for a cigarette.

  “He’ll be back soon enough,” Constantine said without taking his eyes off Penelope.

  “Did you message him, at least?”

  “Do I look stupid? Penelope isn’t in any danger, and he’ll panic. Alexis isn’t reasonable when it comes to her. You know that, don’t you?”

  “I do. He nearly lost her a few months ago—that would be enough to send anyone into overprotective mode. Alexis is also…special.” Marco didn’t dare say what Alexis actually was out loud in a police station.

  “He is that.”

  “Are you?”

  The big man gave him a wry smile. “What do you think?”

  “If Alexis trusts you to be alone with Penelope, then I suppose you must be.” Marco ran a hand through his hair, watching as Penelope calmly answered questions and the officer opposite her took notes. “She should’ve come and done this a week ago, headed off the media and their lies.”

  “She’s had more pressing matters to attend to. You can get the media to print something, can’t you? Something official that will tell the public she’s had no role in the bombings.”

  “I can try. The police will release a statement about it. Let’s hope there won’t be a repeat of this evening. Some of the witnesses said you pulled a knife on them.”

  Constantine didn’t look the slightest bit worried. “They were worked up and distraught. It doesn’t surprise me that they made up facts to make their own part sound less cowardly.”

  “Uh-huh. If you say so. Make sure it doesn’t make an appearance while we’re here, okay?”

  It was almost midnight, and Marco was making another round of espressos when the hair on the back of his neck rose. The lights through the station flickered, and Constantine swore in something that sounded like Latin.

  “What was that?” Marco asked.

  “Alexis is here.” Constantine nodded toward the main doors.

  They opened with a bang, and a strong wind blew in just before Alexis filled the doorframe. Dressed in a neat suit, his face was smiling, but the look in his eyes when they landed on Marco made his pulse quicken. He’d only seen Alexis look that angry the night of the storm. Galenos came in behind him, also dressed in a suit and carrying an official-looking briefcase.

  “Inspector Dandolo, I’m so glad to see that you are here.” Alexis reached out a hand for Marco to shake.

  Marco did his best to hold Alexis’s eye contact. “I wouldn’t be anywhere else at a time like this.”

  “What room is she in?” Alexis asked, not letting his hand go.

  “Three.”

  “Galenos, go.”

  The tall magician gave Marco a sympathetic nod before hurrying past them.

  “He’s Penelope’s lawyer—someone that should’ve been present before this interview started.”

  “She came willingly.”

  “That’s not what I heard.” Alexis finally let Marco’s hand go and turned his fierce gaze on Constantine. “You were with her?”

  “Every moment.”

  Marco whispered, “Your friend here thought it was a good idea to pull a knife on a crowd. You both should be grateful he’s not in an interview room too.”

  “Is she hurt?”

  “Not even a scratch, Alexis. I swear it,” said Constantine.

  There was a long pause before Alexis looked down at Marco. “Can I see her?”

  Marco nodded. “Come this way.”

  He took Alexis back to the viewing room and away from the all-too-perceptive eyes of the other officers. Any time Alexis Donato decided to make an appearance was noteworthy. Marco could only pray that the younger female officers weren’t on Twitter that very minute.

  As soon as Alexis saw Penelope, the tension in him seemed to soften. She was talking with Galenos, a small frown on her face. Her hazel eyes swept up to the mirrored glass, as if she knew Alexis was there, and smiled. Alexis exhaled, his hands unclenching from their fists.

  “I told you she was unharmed, Alecto,” Constantine said.

  “It shouldn’t have happened.”

  “I agree. That’s why I haven’t shut up about Penelope coming in early for this,” Marco said, unable to keep his irritation in check. “Dio, do you think I do it to waste my breath?”

  “Thank you for being here, Marco. She would’ve been more frightened without you.” All the anger was gone from Alexis’s voice.

  “She’s family, Alexis. You know that. What happened in Vienna?”

  “Are you asking as a friend or police?”

  “Let’s save it until we are back in the palazzo, shall we?” Constantine suggested. “Are Aelia and Phaidros unharmed?”

  “Yes. Aelia is distraught, but she isn
’t wounded.”

  The officer in the room with Penelope put down his pen and gave the window a small nod.

  “They are finished. You can go in, Alexis.”

  Marco and Constantine stayed where they were as Alexis opened the door to the interview room and knelt down beside Penelope’s chair. She placed both hands on his cheeks while they whispered to each other.

  “Have they always been this intense with each other?” Constantine asked.

  Marco thought about the first time he’d seen them together. Penelope had been kidnapped and tortured by the Acolyte’s thugs in a gondola shed, and somehow, Alexis had found her. They weren’t even a couple then, and yet neither had been willing to separate from the other.

  “Since day one.” Alexis wrapped his arms around Penelope and was about to kiss her when Marco looked away. “We need to go get the boat ready. They don’t need an audience.”

  Constantine smiled like he had the devil in him and banged on the glass, making Penelope jump and Alexis glower.

  “Great idea. Piss him off more,” muttered Marco.

  “They’d be at it all night if I didn’t motivate them to move. Come, Signore Dandolo, we need to get ourselves a drink.”

  Marco didn’t like being bossed around, but he found himself falling in line and following the big man out of the station. He’d convinced Paulo, one of the other officers, to give him a cigarette and was about to light it when a hand appeared out of the shadows and snatched it from his hand.

  “Che cazzo!” Marco huffed as Lyca glared at him.

  With slow deliberation, she crushed the cigarette between her fingers, littering the ground with tobacco. “No,” she said firmly.

  “This is harassment! One occasional cigarette isn’t going to kill me.”

  “No, but she will,” said Alexis. He had an arm around Penelope and smiled in the direction of the few paparazzi lingering at the far side of the car park.

  Lyca scowled. “Those vultures.”

  “It’s okay. We need to be seen just this once,” Penelope said, her voice tired from all the talking she’d done that evening.