Once or twice, she had to duck when a floating cart was dragged along above her head, but a few minutes later, she was safely on the other side of the gate, breathing fresh air deep into her lungs.
“That’s something I don’t wish to repeat,” Lucilla said behind her, loud enough to be heard by the bystanders who were fast dispersing.
Mirella didn’t answer. The crowd in front of her had cleared, revealing a fearsome sight she had prayed never to see again in her life.
As if they had materialized from nothing, a group of men wearing all black stood before her. On their masked faces there was the white outline of a skull. The crowd that had filled the place a moment ago was nowhere to be seen. In fact, it seemed that nobody was around and the market was empty.
Memories of the attack at the Vestal house came back, but Mirella kept them at bay.
“Run!” she screamed at her sisters who stood rooted to the spot, shocked.
Assessing that their only way of escaping was behind them, she grabbed her sisters by their hands and pulled them away, back into the hidden market. She headed toward one of the alleys, and only let go of them when they started running. Not knowing the geography of the place, she turned blindly, hoping there wasn’t a dead end waiting for them around the corner.
Once they entered the alley, a row of stores met them, but their large glass windows opening into shallow rooms didn’t make a safe haven to hide in. Their pursuers were gaining on them. Mirella headed for the next alleyway which was dimly lit.
An arched entry was carved into the side of one of the stores and provided enough space to contain the three of them. Flattening their bodies to the rough brick wall, they waited for the men in black to pass the alley.
Soft running steps echoed all over the place, confusing the senses. Mirella held her breath. The men sprinted past them, but she knew their pursuers would be back as soon as they realized their prey was not running ahead.
Her eyes went to the ajar door on the opposite building. The structure looked abandoned. Silently, she pointed her chin toward the door and her sisters nodded in understanding, moving at once before they were discovered crossing the road.
Chapter Eight
Valentine had enough bad news for the day and wanted nothing more than to cradle his small bride to his chest.
“All my resources are at your disposal,” he said to Dragon before leaving the Commerce Center from the jutting balcony adjacent to the chamber.
Once on his Desert Fire, he used the ride to relax. He didn’t want to appear before Mirella looking angry. She would think he was displeased with her, and he couldn’t bear that any longer. He was tired of the constant deceit surrounding their union, but there was nothing he could do about it. The alternative was to tell her what kind of monster he was: a murderer who would stop at nothing to have an heir to an endless kingdom of solitude and regret.
The inverted pyramid of the Canalis’ home came into sight, and he veered toward the landing platform. He was surprised when the majordomo didn’t immediately greet him, and he had to climb the steps and knock on the door.
“Master Lobo,” the older man said when he saw Valentine. A crease on his forehead marred his elegant features. His eyes darted over his shoulder into the house.
Mrs. Canalis was looking down from a window on the upper floor. She curtseyed, then disappeared inside.
“Send for my bride, will you?” Valentine said. His wolf started pacing.
“Would you like to come inside and partake of some refreshments?” the majordomo asked, playing nervously with his hands.
“I wish to leave at once. Send for my bride, please.” Valentine saw Mrs. Canalis walk past the window.
The woman’s eyes locked with his for a moment, then she moved away only to reappear a moment later. Again, she gave him a brief look and turned sideways, gesticulating and talking to someone not in sight.
To the stalling majordomo, Valentine asked, “Where is Mirella?”
“She went with her sisters for a walk,” the man replied.
Valentine stared at the majordomo for a moment, his former annoyance transforming into dread. “They went out without an escort?”
“I’m afraid they did.”
A crude curse escaped Valentine’s lips as his wolf roared. “Where did they go?”
“We don’t know.”
Keeping his dark mood in check, lest he bark at the majordomo and storm inside the house to demand an explanation, Valentine raised an eyebrow. “You don’t know.”
“The mademoiselles left through the service door—”
Valentine flexed and unflexed his hands. “When did they leave?”
“About five hours ago, but we have already sent a few servants looking for them, and their father is—”
Valentine was back on his airbike before the man could finish the sentence. Flying away in haste, he tried to rack his brain, thinking of where Mirella and her sisters could have gone. They were on foot and could easily reach both the Public Market and the edge of the Gardens from their house. Five hours was a long time. They should have been back at the house by now. No wonder their mother was in such a nervous state.
He had mentioned Rainbow Waterfall to her earlier. Maybe Mirella had decided to visit the Gardens. The Public Market was closer though, and she might have gone there instead. Her first night at Lobo Mansion, she had been overjoyed when he told her she could roam the house as she liked. What could be more exciting to her than strolling freely through the market stalls?
His mind made up, he descended toward the market. He kept the Desert Fire several meters above the ground, scanning the busy hub.
The motorized umbrellas hid most of the scene, and a multitude of people crowded the stalls, looking for last minute deals. Peddlers moved about their given spots, commending out loud the high quality of their products. Rusty mechanical workers hauled boxes and swept the same square of pavement in repetitive motions.
Valentine circled the market in large loops, his eyes focused on the undulating throng below, looking for a particular splash of light blue. Every time a similar hue appeared at the periphery of his sight, his heart jumped, but at a closer look it was never Mirella.
His hovering had been noticed, and people were looking up and calling him. Maybe the ruckus would alert Mirella of his presence in the market. He hoped so.
He started asking around if anyone had seen his bride.
“She was here an hour ago,” one of the peddlers answered.
“No, she was here several hours ago,” another added.
More voices joined the chorus.
“She almost bought a dress from my shop.”
“The Blessed Bride stopped by my store.”
“She was at mine.”
“At mine, too.”
Valentine listened, trying to decipher if there was a sliver of truth in their testimonies. But the more he flew over the market without a glimpse of her auburn hair and light blue riding coat, the more his despair grew and his pulse quickened.
He decided to sweep over the entire hub one more time before turning and heading in the opposite direction.
“Master Lobo!” a lanky youth called, gesticulating for Valentine to descend lower. “The Blessed Bride bought sugarpops from my stall for her and two other girls. They ate them under that mammoth tree, then left for the hidden market.”
Valentine carefully weighed the young man’s words. The hidden market could just be exotic enough for the sisters to decide to stray from the main hub. He thanked the man, then reached the ironwork gate delimiting the two areas.
After parking the Desert Fire outside the gate, he crossed the threshold into the hidden market and was immediately assailed by a myriad of different smells. His nose twitched, and his eyes teared up. Floating carts roamed freely and forced him to lower his head several times, further deteriorating his already dark mood. A water-clock sculpture marked the hour with a pleasant gurgling and splashing, but it failed to soothe
his nerves.
“Master Lobo,” a few women greeted him. Their arms jingling with bracelets and little bells, they dangled their wares in front of him, offering much more than trinkets.
“Have you seen the Blessed Bride?” he asked, parting the crowd as he marched through the narrow streets under the high ceiling.
Several answered that they had seen her, but nobody knew where she was now. When he looked straight at some of the people who slinked away from him, he noticed a shyness in their responses that told him something was afoot. But when he pressed the matter, barking his questions, they fearfully ran away.
His wolf’s nervousness rattled Valentine into a heightened anxiety of his own. He couldn’t cover as much ground as he had with his airbike, but his long strides brought him to the far corners of the hidden market and back.
Mirella was nowhere to be found.
After having run throughout the whole place three times, Valentine wasn’t able to keep his fear at bay any longer. A roar exploded from his chest as his wolf howled long and hard.
Chapter Nine
Dim light illuminated the dusty room, but after sitting in her cramped corner for a while, Mirella could read the writing on the broken boxes as well as discern between the rotten heaps of cloths and the forgotten mechanical workers abandoned on the floor. Her heart still drummed fast against her ribcage, but she couldn’t let her sisters know how scared she was.
Pushed by the breeze wafting through the cracked shutters, frail pieces of parchment rustled all over the floor. The soft sounds made her jump out of her skin, and every time a set of steps passed by the abandoned store she held her breath.
Angry voices resonated close to their refuge, sending Lucilla and Vera into bouts of choked sobs.
Silence followed.
“Let’s get out of here.” Mirella gestured for her sisters to stand up and follow her.
They reached the door when someone with a heavy footstep walked by the entrance. Mirella brought a finger to her closed lips and pointed at the wall with her chin. They flattened themselves against the crackled and moldy wallpaper, hoping whoever was outside wouldn’t look through the cracks in the wooden door.
Mirella could hear her heartbeats in her throat as she squeezed Lucilla’s hand. A large shadow darkened the floor under the door; it lingered for a few seconds, then moved away, and a strong smell of mint tobacco floated inside.
A moment later, cart wheels creaked close, followed by running steps.
“We’ll be fine,” Mirella whispered, but lowered herself to the floor once again. Her eyes went to the opposite wall where the mechanical parts lay. She stood on shaking legs and reached for a metal arm. “Grab one,” she said, looking at her sisters and brandishing the piece like a club. “We can’t stay here the whole night.”
Several hours had passed since they left home, and soon someone was bound to find them. “By now, Mother has sent the whole house after us. We’ll just have to make enough noise to draw attention to us in case the men in black are still out there.”
Metal arm in hand, Mirella ignored the blatant flaws in her plan and went straight to the door. After making sure nobody was outside, she carefully pushed the wooden panel open and slipped into the alleyway. Lucilla and Vera were a step behind, armed with a leg and what was left of a multiuse limb ending with a hook and a dull blade.
Their attackers could be hiding in the shadows, and every person strolling by scared Mirella. She led her sisters into the main street, then broke into a run. Her geographical orientation had never been sound, but she reoriented her steps when she didn’t recognize the alley she had just entered.
With her heart lodged high into her throat, she kept whispering words of encouragement for Lucilla and Vera as they sped through the hidden market.
A loud growl stopped her in her tracks.
“Valentine!” Mirella couldn’t see him, but she was sure it was Valentine. Her heeled feet flew over the cobblestones, following the rumble of his roar around a corner.
“Mirella—” Her husband’s voice resonated from behind a store.
She ran, pushing people aside in her eagerness to find him. “Valentine!” she called him again.
And there he was, big and wild, running toward her from the opposite end of the road.
In the blink of an eye, he was in front of her. She tossed the worker’s arm, then threw herself at him, needing his embrace to soothe her.
Valentine caught her and whispered, “Kitten.” His arms circled her back, then pressed her to him.
“We were attacked—” she said, leaning away from him, then proceeded to recount what had happened without stopping once to take a breath.
Her husband’s expression went from surprised to worried, then he swore. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
As if he didn’t believe her, his hands roamed all over her back and arms, making sure she wasn’t hurt. Then he saw her sisters and asked from over Mirella’s shoulder, “And what about you two? Are you okay?”
Lucilla and Vera answered that they were fine.
Without letting Mirella free of his hold, Valentine started walking toward the gate dividing the two sections of the market. His airbike was parked just outside. He pointed at the Desert Fire and motioned for the three of them to mount on the seat. “I’ll fly everyone back to your parents’ house.” He waited for the girls to climb on, then mounted behind Mirella and hugged her with a strong arm. “Hold on,” he said, making a sign to the crowd that had gathered around them to move out of the way, then he took off.
The airbike was large enough to accommodate the four of them, and the extra weight didn’t slow it down. Valentine kept silent for the entire flight, but Mirella could feel how tense he was.
At the house, they were welcomed by Aikon and their father. Mother looked at them from behind the parlor’s window, her hands worrying a lace handkerchief.
“Father!” both Lucilla and Vera jumped down from the bike and ran to their father, who hugged both of them, kissing their crowns.
“Where did you go?” their father asked, looking at Valentine. “What happened?”
“They had a bad scare, but they are okay,” Valentine answered, his voice guarded. “I’d like to talk with you alone.”
Their father raised an eyebrow, but nodded and looked toward the majordomo. “Aikon, see that refreshments are sent to my studio.”
Valentine stopped Aikon. “I won’t be tarrying long. I wish to be on our way immediately.”
“Girls, wait for me inside,” their father said to Lucilla and Vera.
Valentine gently squeezed Mirella’s hand. “Give me a moment with your father.”
Mirella dismounted and followed her sisters inside the house.
“Mother!” Vera ran to their mother who was waiting just inside the door.
“Why did you leave the house like that?” their mother asked, her voice hoarse. She hugged Vera, then Lucilla, and finally turned toward Mirella, who had kept aside. “Come here, you silly girl.”
“We only meant to have a stroll through the market,” Vera said.
Mirella stepped closer to her mother.
“Is your husband angry with you? He looked upset when he didn’t find you at home.” Her mother embraced Mirella. “Just be extra attentive to his needs and you’ll be fine…” She let the sentence trail, then caressed Mirella’s cheek.
“I didn’t do anything wrong.” Mirella stepped back, her temper rising. “It’s not my fault we were attacked.”
“You were attacked?” Her mother’s eyes widened in shock.
Aikon walked inside. “Blessed Bride, Master Lobo is ready to leave.”
Mirella nodded at the majordomo, then addressed her mother. “Lucilla and Vera will tell you what happened.”
“But you are okay, right?” her mother asked, looking from Mirella to Lucilla and Vera.
“We are fine,” the sisters answered for Mirella.
“Okay then. Don’t
make your husband wait.” Her mother drew Mirella closer for one last hug, then released her to her sisters’ attention.
“Come back soon,” Vera said, then kissed Mirella on both cheeks.
“Yes, please. Ask your husband to let you visit us more often.” Lucilla kissed her too.
Mirella hugged and kissed them back, promising they would see each other soon, then she left the house with an unsettling feeling. She was still shaken, and it might have been the direct result of an eventful day, but both her mother and sisters’ final words had flustered her greatly.
She didn’t have time to ponder the sentiment, because as soon as she had descended the stairs, her father was next to her.
“I’m glad you are okay, my sweetpea.” He kissed her forehead, enveloping her in a soft embrace. “Please, have a care,” he whispered with a broken voice.
“I promise I will.” She smiled at him, then turned toward Valentine, who was standing by his airbike.
After another tearful goodbye from her sisters, waving at Mirella from the window, Valentine helped her on the Desert Fire and they left.
The flight back to the manor was fast and silent. Valentine drove at full speed and didn’t say a word. His arm protectively held her in place before him the entire time, but his touch didn’t convey the warmth Mirella needed.
Her husband’s dark mood affected her, coloring her thoughts with a gloomy tinge. Her family’s words came back to her over and over again, making her wonder if Valentine was angry because she had put herself in danger. She arrived at Lobo Manor in a state of agitation, but resolved to fight back if he dared say anything.
She was tired of being the meek Blessed Bride everyone wanted her to be. For a few hours, back at the Public Market, she had felt free. If the events of the day had taught her anything, it was that she wanted to live life to its fullest. Her husband would have to deal with her decision.
Chapter Ten
Flying his Desert Fire back home hadn’t lessened Valentine’s anger.
The Fifth Moon's Wife (The Fifth Moon Tales Book 2) Page 5