‘Let’s just keep this business,’ he said.
He whistled sharply. Several Marksmen filed in through the passage. They surrounded Sebastian and lifted him up. His arms fell limp at his sides; his wings dragged the floor.
Augustine approached. He produced a syringe from inside his coat. Before I could even protest, he plunged the needle into Sebastian’s neck; one quick motion, in and out. Sebastian’s body twitched.
‘There,’ said Augustine, putting the syringe away. ‘That should keep him nice and quiet, should he decide to wake up before we reach the dungeon.’ He dipped his head slightly. ‘I thank you for your assistance, Quentin. I will see you shortly.’
Quentin nodded in return. The Marksmen carrying Sebastian shuffled out of the room, with Sebastian in tow. Augustine leaned down, brushing Anya’s stone remains off his boot, and then he followed them out. Two Marksmen remained, taking up positions near the passageway entrance.
I hoisted my mace, but the gesture felt weak and pointless against the heavily armed men. I turned my anger on Quentin. ‘You can’t possibly be helping him,’ I said, jutting my chin in the direction Augustine had gone. ‘Quentin, you know what he is. And you’re a Marksman. You’re sworn to protect and serve the—’
‘Don’t talk to me about duties,’ he said coldly. ‘Your entire family is a disgrace. And you.’ He glared down his nose at me. ‘You have a lot to change before you become Queen.’
My mouth fell open. ‘How did—’
‘Your family’s secrets have always been mine. Your father trusted me. Still does, in fact.’
I recoiled from Quentin like he was toxic. ‘What is it you think I’ve done?’
‘Defying your bandoleer. Bringing a gadje into our affairs. Siding with a shadowen who murdered a Roma.’ A smile twisted his chiseled face. ‘And you never called me back.’
Hot tears threatened behind my eyes. He’d never thrown accusations at me before. ‘And you just accept all of it? Just like that. You don’t even bother to hear my side before making your own conclusions. How is that love?’
I regretted the words as soon as they flew from my mouth.
He drew back. ‘Love?’
The tears retreated far back inside me. ‘I loved you, Quentin.’
‘When you were thirteen, Josie. When your father made the match and we became tangled together in traditions that were bigger than us and out of our control. But years pass, and duty and love have a way of getting mixed up sometimes.’
I dropped the mace limply at my side. All the questions I hadn’t been ready to face were being answered, right in front of me. This was Quentin Marks. This was who he truly was.
‘Maybe you’re right,’ I replied. ‘I haven’t been honest with you, and I’m not going to try and justify that. I’ve avoided you lately because I didn’t know what to say, and I’m sorry.’
‘Sorry for what, exactly?’
I looked at him steadily.
‘That I didn’t put an end to this months ago.’
Quentin toyed with the handle of the Marksman sword sheathed at his hip. He looked back at me. I couldn’t read his expression at all. He ran a hand through his black hair and then pinched his lips together.
‘It doesn’t have to end, Josephine.’
I blinked. ‘What?’
He leaned forward, looking once more like the man I’d convinced myself I knew. ‘We’ve been together a long time,’ he said. ‘Maybe what you felt for me then was a childish love. Maybe it grew into something else, maybe it didn’t. But it doesn’t matter anymore.’ He smiled, and it was warm this time. ‘You could learn to love me differently. We’re Roma, Josephine. Our duty, our traditions, they are what hold us together. You’ve always known this. You’ve always accepted it.’ His hand found mine, his skin warm as his smile. ‘If you have the faintest desire to be Queen one day, you’re going to need someone by your side who understands this, too. Who understands what it’s like.’
I stared at him, frozen in disbelief. There was no amusement in his eyes, no snide quirk of his lip. His expression was sincerity. Had his sharp replies been jealous anger? I shook my head to keep the emotions at bay.
‘You can’t be serious,’ I replied.
‘Why not?’ he questioned. ‘Josephine, what has that gargoyle brought you that was any good? What has he done that was beneficial to the Circe, to your family? Guardian or whatever he claims to be, he’s done no more than our Marksmen have done. Everywhere he goes, chaos seems to follow, and behind that, even more trouble.’ He squeezed my hand, his voice gentle. ‘Maybe it’s not even his fault. He didn’t choose to be what he is. I don’t blame him for that. But he doesn’t have power over it, either, and that makes him dangerous. To everyone.’
I slid my hand out of his and stepped away. My gaze fell on the chimeras’ stone debris. No, it wasn’t Sebastian’s fault, what he was. He never asked for it. But I refused to believe he was powerless against it – as long as he didn’t have to face things alone. It wasn’t Quentin I wanted by my side.
‘No,’ I said out loud.
Quentin acted as though he hadn’t heard me. ‘Augustine has already given his word, Josie. Whatever aspirations he has within the Sobrasi have nothing to do with us. The throne will be yours, the shadowen will be destroyed, and you and I can start over. Our kumpania can be stronger than ever before.’
I looked at Quentin for a long time. Once, his smooth words or fiery kisses were all it took to make things right between us. But that time was done. He was right about one thing: I wasn’t a child. I hadn’t been for a long time. I’d been content to hide behind my duties instead of embracing them.
‘You really believe that,’ I said.
He nodded. ‘I have no doubt in my mind.’
I hesitated, turning the mace over in my hands, struggling to conquer the surge of disgust and betrayal that threatened to drown me. I forced myself to look straight into Quentin’s eyes, and I saw clearly that darkness within them that I’d refused to acknowledge for so long.
I had to push aside my feelings and focus on what was important. Sebastian. I took a deep, steadying breath. If I rejected Quentin right now, I’d lose any chance of finding Sebastian, wherever they took him. But after what had just happened, if I accepted too easily, then Quentin would know I was just playing along.
‘So what happens now?’ I asked warily.
Quentin narrowed his eyes, probably trying to decipher my thoughts. At last, he shrugged. ‘We bring the gargoyle to the Sobrasi. Augustine gets what he wants, which means, ultimately, so do I.’
‘But what will they do to him?’
‘I guess you’ll find out,’ he replied. He gestured to the Marksmen. ‘Take her.’
‘What?’ I struggled against their hands on my arms. One wrenched the mace from my grasp. ‘Quentin, what are you doing?’
‘We’ve lost a lot of trust between us,’ Quentin replied, smiling. ‘It will take some time to build that back up. In the meantime, I suggest you come quietly. Your actions from this point on will determine your future.’
30. Josephine
The tunnel system was nothing I’d ever seen or heard anyone tell about. It was unkempt, encased in dirt and cobwebs, scarcely lit by cloudy lanterns. The air felt thick and unused. I was completely lost, with no sense of direction, but Quentin seemed to know the way like he’d walked it in his sleep. The two Marksmen guards kept me firmly between them as Quentin forged on ahead.
I studied his tall frame and steady gait. Any guilt I’d felt over how I’d treated him had grown cold, and my feelings shriveled to nothing. My anger turned inward, biting at me with sharp teeth. Had I been that blind all the years we’d been together? I clenched my teeth. No, he had changed. But I’d missed it, somehow, while I was wrapped up in fantasies and well-paved futures.
Some part of Quentin still loved me. I saw that glimmer along with the darkness of his gaze. But whatever part of him I’d been in love with wasn’t there. Maybe it had bee
n once, and I just never saw it go. I felt like an idiot, but I couldn’t wallow over questions rooted in the long-dead past.
I had to concern myself with the present.
The Marksmen carrying Sebastian were too far ahead of us for me to see. The connection I always sensed between us felt distant, and I prayed it was only because he was unconscious. Seeing his lifeless body made me scared in a way I hadn’t been before.
We were heading in the direction of the Court of Shadows, based on the widening of the tunnel and the light provided by a mixture of lanterns and electric bulbs.
The Marksmen had lied to Hugo about my aunt being gone, which meant the Queen was somewhere inside the Court. If I could get away, if I could find her, then maybe everything wasn’t lost. Augustine might have some deal with the Sobrasi, but he wasn’t above Outcast law. My fingers itched to get to my phone, which I’d stuffed in my back pocket. Even a quick text to the Corsis could bring help. But there was no way. The two men had my arms pinned firmly to my side. But the thought of my phone made me think of something else.
‘You know,’ I called out to Quentin. ‘You’re not the only one I haven’t called. My father thinks I’ve been at Katie’s all weekend. I’m expected back at the Circe tonight, and you know how my father gets when he doesn’t know where I am.’
Quentin slowed. ‘Yes, I do. Which is why I’ve already taken care of that for you.’ He nodded his head, almost like a bow. ‘No need to thank me.’ He waited for my reaction, which I wasn’t great at concealing. ‘All it took was a few texts, explaining the situation to him – leaving out certain details, obviously. He knows you’re with me, and everything’s fine.’
‘Perfect,’ I said.
‘I thought so,’ he replied.
My gaze drifted to his sling. ‘What happened to you, by the way?’
His fixed smile faltered a bit. ‘Keep moving.’
He turned and put distance between us, continuing up the tunnel. But I’d seen the expression on his face, and I knew, Sebastian had been the cause. I’d never seen anyone else rattle Quentin that way. Once, I would’ve felt bad for him. Now, I only felt a smug satisfaction.
*
A good while later – I couldn’t be sure of the time in the constant golden glow of the underground – we stopped in front of an arched doorway. Quentin stepped aside, allowing my guards and I to go first.
At first, it seemed like a giant wine cellar, but as I scanned the stone columns and arched ceilings, I dismissed that idea. There were several long pews with faded cushions pushed up against walls. In the corner sat a small round table with matching stools. A rectangular table surrounded dominated the center of the room. An old communion table, I realized, seeing the etchings along the front.
The Marksmen who’d been carrying Sebastian placed his body on the table, lying him face down. If I hadn’t seen his back continuing to expand and contract, I would’ve sworn he was dead. Augustine sat on one of the pews, smiling with a look of disgusting contentment.
‘What is this place?’ I demanded.
He glanced around, like he was seeing it for this first time. ‘Well, I believe some churches call them catacombs. Others, cellars or basements.’
‘This isn’t part of the Court of Shadows.’
‘Definitely not,’ he replied. ‘These are a collection of tunnels once used to transport the dead to the cemetery during one of the early Yellow Fever outbreaks.’ He smiled. ‘Or perhaps, simply places to bury the bodies when there was no more room. Either way, these tunnels, as you can image, are shunned by the Outcast population, which means there are no patrols here. I’ve found it to be a nice little way to get around the city without being seen.’
I shivered, but not from cold. To lounge around tunnels and rooms used for the dead only added to Augustine’s marimé status. I moved away from the walls as much as possible. He saw my actions, and his smile only grew. I chose to speak to Quentin instead.
‘Why would you worry about patrols, anyway?’ I asked. ‘It looks like you’ve got the Marksmen working for you.’
‘Not all,’ said Quentin. ‘But enough for what we need.’
I started towards the table. One Marksman reached out to hold me back, but Augustine put up his hand. The guard backed away. As I approached Sebastian’s comatose form, my throat ached. I wanted to reach out and hold his hand, to brush the hair way from his face so I could see him better.
‘What’s wrong with him?’ I asked instead.
‘Ah,’ said Augustine, rising from the cushions and coming to the opposite end of the table. ‘I believe this is probably the culprit.’ He pulled back the cloak and started to lift Sebastian’s left wing.
‘Don’t touch him.’
Augustine paused, then nodded. ‘Be my guest.’
I gently moved aside the upper portion of his wing, exposing the bloody mess that was his shoulder. The blackish-purple blood oozing from the wound gleamed with silvery speckles that shone with an eerie, otherworldly brightness. I’d never been squeamish, not even when I broke my wrist so badly during a Circe stunt that my bone went through the skin. But this was a different kind of wound. It made my stomach turn.
‘A nasty little present from Quentin,’ said Augustine, observing the shattered arrow shaft that remained firmly planted inside Sebastian’s shoulder. ‘It refuses to heal, you see.’
I shot a look at Quentin, who only stared back nonchalantly. Then I studied the injury to Sebastian’s wing. Unlike his shoulder, it had mended cleanly. The hole I’d seen earlier had nearly disappeared altogether. Only a faint outline of the wound remained.
‘And you know why, I take it.’
‘It’s his own fault, I’m afraid. If he’d listened to me, we wouldn’t be in this situation. I was merely going for a demonstration in front of the Sobrasi – something to really showcase my skills in shadowen control. It was a speedy method. Each of Quentin’s arrows were hollowed out, and filled with—’
‘Prah from the urn of Keveco Romany,’ I said, cutting him off. ‘I heard you had it.’
He looked surprised. ‘From whom, might I ask?’
I paused, afraid I’d given away information about Zindelo and Nadya. I had to come up with something else. ‘Karl Corsi.’
‘Really?’ Augustine placed his hands casually in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. ‘I didn’t give that old man enough credit. He put more together than I thought. It’s a good thing he’s no longer with us.’
Outrage rose inside me. ‘Because of you.’
‘You’re correct, though,’ continued Augustine, as though I hadn’t spoken at all. ‘It’s the prah from the urn, very special and very rare. But I suppose I don’t need to bore you with all those details.’ He stared down at Sebastian. ‘I’ve been chipping away at this gargoyle, bit by bit. Small doses, here and there. Starting with the night I took him from the Circe.’
‘I knew that wasn’t him,’ I replied. ‘Sebastian would never act that way.’
Quentin’s face went dark. ‘That’s been your problem all along, Josephine. You refuse to see the truth. In fact, you run away from it completely. You’ve got a naive ideal of good-hearted nobility, but it doesn’t exist! Prah or not, this creature is what he is.’
‘If Sebastian’s already so terrible, then why do you need the prah? You’re trying to force him to be something he’s not.’
Quentin scowled. ‘He was a monster before this, Josephine. He needed no help when he tore that chimera apart in our camp.’
I shoved my finger in Quentin’s chest; so mad I could taste the bitterness on my tongue. ‘How does that make him different from you, Quentin? You took an oath to protect the Outcast world from shadow creatures. You’ve killed more than you can count. Are you saying that’s not noble? If that’s the case, then the Marksmen are nothing but a pack of murderers.’
Anger slipped through Quentin’s dark mask. His hand clenched around his sword hilt, as though it were keeping him anchored in place. He opened his mo
uth, but Augustine didn’t give him a chance.
‘We’ve wasted enough time,’ he said. ‘It’s time to pay a visit to the Corsis’ inn. I’m ready for Hugo’s services now.’ Augustine glanced at me. ‘And we need to make sure the rest of their clan stays right where they are. We don’t want anything getting in the way of the first night of the Gathering Celebration.’
Frigid fingers curled around my neck. ‘What do you mean?’
Quentin stepped around me. ‘I’ll send Donani.’
‘No,’ said Augustine. ‘His absence would be missed at the Court. I’m sure you have someone just as loyal among your ranks you could place in charge of this task, don’t you?’
Quentin’s eyes narrowed dangerously as they looked at each other. He gestured to one of the Marksmen who’d escorted me. The man stepped forward. He looked several years older than Quentin, with a deeply lined forehead and scraggly brown hair.
‘Kennick,’ said Quentin. ‘Go to Donani and ask for six men. He’ll know who to send with you. Be discreet. If anyone asks, you’re doing your patrols. I suggest you split up and meet at the Corsi establishment.’
‘Consider it done,’ said the man.
‘And Kennick,’ Quentin said lowly. ‘Hugo Corsi is your responsibility.’
The Marksman dipped his head and exited out the way we’d come in, followed by the remaining guards, leaving only Quentin and Augustine. I took careful, even breaths. Augustine knew Hugo and the guys were at the inn, but he hadn’t mentioned anyone else. I prayed I had enough battery left to send him a text – if I could find a way.
‘What an intense expression, dearest niece,’ Augustine remarked, looking me over. ‘Tell me, are you wondering how you can get the word out to your Corsi friends? I do apologize, but I can’t allow that.’ He held out his hand over Sebastian’s immobile body. I yanked my phone from my pocket and handed it over. ‘Good girl,’ he said, pocketing the device. ‘Now, Sebastian and I have some work to do. I’d let you watch, but honestly, I think you’d be too much of a distraction right now, so we’ll chat in a bit.’
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