by Maggie Hall
I felt him watching me for a second, and he finally said, “I’m going for a walk.”
He disappeared into the cabin. When I was sure he was gone, I made my way inside, too. I heard Elodie and Colette talking in the other room, and I paced the three steps from the bedroom area to the kitchen. I grabbed a handful of dark red cherries from a bowl and sat at the breakfast bar, plucking the stems off them and rolling them around on the counter in little agitated circles. Across the deck, I watched the turquoise water of the Mediterranean turn orange from the setting sun.
“What did that fruit do to you?”
I frowned up at Stellan and then cursed when a cherry squished under my fingers, spraying bloodred juice across the marble and onto the front of my dress.
“Or maybe the better question is, What did Bishop do to you? What was that little fight about?”
It wasn’t a fight, I started to say, wiping at the cherry juice. “I don’t know,” I found myself saying instead, and then added quickly, “It wasn’t a fight. It’s none of your business.”
“Let me guess.” Stellan took one of my cherries and popped it in his mouth. “He’s worried about your safety, etcetera, etcetera.”
I wrinkled my nose. “We weren’t fighting,” I said again. I wanted it to be true. Jack was the one person I was sure I could trust. And if we disagreed so strongly about this, it meant one of two things I didn’t want it to mean. Either I couldn’t trust him as much as I thought—or he was right and I was going about this all wrong.
Stellan leaned on the counter across from me. “He wants to keep you safe. It’s sort of his thing, if you hadn’t noticed.”
I didn’t even bother looking up from my cherries.
“It’s valid,” he continued. “There could be people trying to kill you. And I’ve seen your sparring sessions. You’re not very good.”
I pushed my stool back and stalked across the room for a napkin. “Do you spy on everything I do?”
“You were training on this boat. Anyone with eyes was ‘spying’ on you.” Stellan sat at the table, resting one long arm across the back of the bench.
“I—” I didn’t know what to say in response, because he was right. “Just shut up.”
“If you ever need somebody else to train with,” Stellan said after a minute. “For whatever reason . . .”
“Thanks but no thanks,” I said.
“You know,” he said, “it’s remarkable to me that you are willing to train so much, to come up with all these dangerous, difficult schemes, but you’re not willing to even consider the way the Circle has interpreted the union for centuries.”
I tossed the napkin onto the mutilated fruit. “We’ve actually gotten really far with the clues, if you hadn’t noticed. Either way, I’m not marrying you.”
“Turned down before I could even propose,” Stellan sighed. “You’re going to give a guy a complex.”
“Do we have to go over this again?” But I couldn’t deny that the little voice in the back of my mind was wondering how much longer I could go before seriously considering it. This new clue left little doubt the union actually was important. Us getting married still made no sense in the context of unlocking the bracelets, but if nothing else worked . . . And what if it could get lots of people behind us, searching for my mom? What if it helped in finding the tomb after all? I knew marrying any other Circle members would do nothing, but with Stellan, there was a chance. An insane, far-fetched chance, but still a chance.
“If we did it—” It was the first time I’d ever said it out loud. “Not that we are, but if we did, it would mean outing yourself. Which we think they might accept if we came out together, but could also be dangerous.”
“I know. Trust me, I know.”
“And, you know, pledging your eternal love to me.” I opened a cupboard, surveying the huge amount of food Colette had.
“You do yourself a disservice if you think that’s as repulsive as you’re implying.” The boat rocked suddenly in what must have been the wake of another boat speeding by. “Plus, there’s the happy fact that the Circle’s wedding ceremony requires the marriage to be consummated immediately for it to be valid.”
I pulled out a jar of Nutella and a spoon and rolled my eyes. “No it doesn’t.”
“It does. It’s part of the ceremony—a holdover from medieval times. The priest and the families and a few special guests watch. To make sure it happens.”
I paused with the spoon halfway to my mouth. “Are you serious?”
“Serious as you can be about live pornography.”
“So if the wedding with Luc had happened . . .”
Stellan nodded. I sat down heavily in the chair across from him.
“Have you ever seen . . . ?”
“Sadly, no,” he said. “Luc’s the only Dauphin child—well, he was until recently—and so there’s been no occasion for it.”
I rested my elbows on the table. “That doesn’t matter. We’re not getting married, so we won’t have to actually—” I waved one hand.
“I think that might be more offensive than saying no to the marriage part,” Stellan mused.
I didn’t give him the satisfaction of a reply. After a few seconds, I said, “What if, hypothetically, we were to . . . pretend. Would they believe us if we said we’d gotten married?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. It’d be our word against any doubters. But if it was only pretend, we wouldn’t get the benefit of the union for finding the tomb. Or unlocking the bracelets.”
“If ‘union’ actually does mean ‘marriage.’” I drew my feet up onto the seat and wrapped my arms around my knees. As usual, this argument was going nowhere.
“Will someone throw me the white top drying by the door?” a voice called from the bedrooms. Colette stuck her head around the corner, arms crossed over her more-than-ample chest. She wore only a pink polka-dotted bra and a flowing skirt.
I turned around quickly, averting my eyes. Stellan didn’t. He gave her a teasing smile. “No,” he said. “We won’t.”
Colette gave him a look of mock outrage and teased back in French. I grabbed the shirt and tossed it toward her.
“Thank you, cherie,” she said, shooting an eye roll in Stellan’s direction before disappearing back into the room.
When the door closed behind her, I turned to Stellan. “Her boyfriend just died.”
“Yes.”
“You’re flirting with her.” He’d been doing it since we got to Greece. She’d cozy up to his side; he’d whisper something that made her giggle.
“Hmm. I take issue with that categorization. Technically, she’s flirting with me. I’m just following her lead.” The sun had just started to dip below the horizon, and Stellan made his way outside.
I followed. “Don’t you dare take advantage of Colette. I like her.”
He looked back inside and lowered his voice. “I like her, too. That’s the point. People grieve in different ways. Lettie wants a distraction, so I’m being nice.”
“Does she know that?”
He cocked his head to one side, and the sea breeze rippled his white button-down shirt. “Yes. How can I make you understand this? Lettie . . . she’s been in the spotlight for so long that she hates being alone. Being adored is her safe place. But everyone who usually fawns over her just treats her like a sad war widow now.” He paused, and I let it sink in. I’d never really thought about Colette that way. Stellan continued, “Harmless flirting happens to serve both our interests. And yours, really.”
“My interests?”
“If she’s happy, she’s more likely to help us with whatever insane plan you think up next.”
I paced down the stairs to the lower deck, Stellan on my heels.
“Do you always use sex to get your way?” I said, swirling a finger on a water mark on the top of the bar.
He scowled. “I’m not sleeping with her. As you so judgingly pointed out, her boyfriend just died. Her boyfriend who was a friend of mine, I might add, just like Colette is. I have some morals, you know.” He paused. “And anyway, girls do it all the time.”
I started to protest, but he went on. “Listen. I said I’d train you. Here’s a lesson that doesn’t have to do with fighting. Being nice doesn’t get you far in the world of the Circle. You have to use whatever tools you have to get ahead.”
He sounded surprisingly bitter. And the conversation sounded over.
“Just . . . don’t take advantage of her,” I said.
Stellan held up his hands in surrender or exasperation or both and settled down on a lounge chair two down from mine. After a few minutes, he gestured to the bracelet on my arm. I handed it over, and he spun it to a new word, paused when nothing happened, then tried a few more before handing it back to me.
I slipped it on my arm. “Three days,” I said under my breath.
Stellan looked out at the water. “That bracelet is somewhere. We’ll find it.”
“Maybe,” I said bitterly. “If I’m still allowed to, between the Saxons and Jack.” I didn’t really mean to, but I found myself telling Stellan about Jack wanting to bring my family into our search. “Being able to follow these clues myself is the only thing I still had a choice in, and if it were up to Jack, even that wouldn’t be my decision anymore.”
Stellan hauled himself to sitting. “You always have a choice.”
I fiddled with the hem of my dress. “I don’t think you’ve been paying very close attention. I’m so important in every aspect of what we’re doing, but it’s becoming obvious that none of it is my choice. I have literally three days until the Saxons marry me off. I’m just a particularly valuable puppet.”
Stellan swung his legs around and perched on the edge of the chaise, facing me. “Lots of people in your shoes would already be on the beach in Indonesia. Refusing to run away is a choice. It’s a brave one.”
Suddenly, I couldn’t sit still. “Why do you say stuff like that?” I paced the deck, my bare feet slapping the smooth, cool wood, remembering what Jack said had first attracted him to me. He saw me at school, looking like I didn’t care. Doing what I wanted, even if it wasn’t what everyone normally did. He didn’t realize I was doing it because I didn’t have another option.
“I’m only here because I have to be. It’s not exactly something to be proud of.”
I could feel Stellan’s eyes on me. “So you care about people and get stronger in response to difficult circumstances,” he said. “Those are good things.”
The ropes anchoring the boat next to us—the Konstantinos, according to the name emblazoned on its side—creaked against the dock.
Then a strange sound came from outside. A kind of a gruff growl. Stellan jumped up and hurried into the cabin. Just as quickly, he reemerged. “Hide,” he mouthed at the same time I heard a strange voice call out, “Astynomía. Police.”
Stellan dragged me behind the bar. We crouched side by side under the bar top.
“Why would the police be here?” I whispered.
“I don’t think they would,” he said, confirming my fears. What if Jack was right, and the Order had come to kidnap me?
The voices were closer now. I heard Colette speaking in French, then Elodie chimed in using English, obviously for my benefit.
“I think you have the wrong boat,” she said sweetly.
“We have orders. We must make a search,” the man said. A low bark accompanied the statement. Dogs. Even if the men didn’t find us, dogs would in seconds.
I leaned close to Stellan. “The water,” I breathed. Stellan nodded, then pointed at the bracelet on my arm. I slipped it off, and he stashed it inside an empty ice bucket, covering it with cocktail napkins and stuffing it under the bar.
While Colette and Elodie led the men around inside—stalling, thank God—I stayed low and slipped over the boat’s dive deck, clinging to the metal ladder.
The water was freezing. I bit back a gasp as my sundress billowed around my waist. I was about to remind Stellan he didn’t need to hide, but he’d already lowered himself after me and flicked his fingers toward the dinghy tied to the side of the yacht.
There wasn’t much sunlight left, and down here it felt even darker than on the deck. We approached the dinghy, making for the narrow crevice between the smaller boat and the larger one—this was as hidden as we were going to get. I pushed myself back into it. Stellan glided silently behind me.
I realized immediately this wasn’t the best hiding place. The “police” only had to lean over the edge behind the bar to see us. The Konstantinos wasn’t more than ten feet away. Maybe we should get around the other side of it. It’d involve being exposed for a few seconds, but—
The water around us went from dusky to fully lit. Someone had flipped the floodlights on the deck. We were still in relative shadow, but the ripples from our swim fanned out, crystal clear in the reflections.
We both went very still, me pressed back into the nook between the barnacle-covered hull of the yacht and the slick surface of the dinghy, and Stellan with his back to me, my face on level with his sunburst tattoo. I could see both it and his sword tattoo perfectly through his soaked white shirt.
I tried to hold on to the side of the boat, but my fingers kept slipping. Stellan was gripping a rope from the dinghy I couldn’t quite grasp, so he reached behind him and grabbed a handful of my dress, pulling me against him and locking me there. I pushed away for a second, automatically, until I realized I was being stupid. This was much easier. And he was warm. I let my arms snake around his waist.
The voices came closer. Stellan put one of his hands over mine.
“Can I interest you in a drink?” Colette’s sugary voice echoed off the hull of the next boat over. I marveled for a second at how quickly she’d taken to scheming with us. We’d arrived just yesterday, upended her whole world, and now she was playing the perfect distraction. “We have a bar with a magnifique view on the upper deck.”
Stellan’s hand tightened. Oh no. Colette must have assumed we were hidden on the lower deck and was giving us time to get away. But on the lower deck, at least they’d have to maneuver around a pile of life jackets to see us. On the upper deck, all they had to do was stand by the railing.
One of the men grunted, the dogs snuffled, and I heard a clear “Yes.”
Their boots clomped up the stairs, and I let go of Stellan, who took the opportunity to turn silently to face me. The tips of his blond hair were wet, darkened. The scars on his shoulders almost glowed. “Around the other side,” I mouthed, pointing, but it was too late. A hollow thump of boots, and I looked up to see a shadow heading straight toward the railing overhead.
I heard Colette follow, asking about the city farther down the shore. One of the guards reached the railing and leaned over, and I froze. He looked down—then his dog gave a gruff yap and he turned back. I let out a breath.
“Show us what is kept down there,” one of the “police” said. He leaned over the railing again.
I looked around frantically for a hiding place that didn’t exist—and Stellan pulled on my hand and pointed down. With no time to think of anything else, I took the deepest breath I could and slipped under the dark water.
We may not have been able to see much, but we could still hear Colette laughing, and the low rumble of men’s voices. Go get that drink, I urged her silently. Show them your movie poster. Do something. Pressure was already building in my chest. I was starting to twitch, to feel the carbon dioxide building up behind my eyeballs. Stellan didn’t seem distressed at all. Of course—Keepers probably had Navy SEAL–level water training. I let the air out of my lungs in a string of tiny bubbles, like you’re supposed to do to hold your breath longer, but just seconds later, my body, on its own, was
straining toward the surface. I pushed against Stellan, forcing myself farther under the water. I could hold on for maybe another thirty seconds.
But they were still talking, still directly above us. Move! I screamed in my head. In front of me, I felt Stellan rising a little. I wasn’t used to opening my eyes underwater while I had contacts in, but I couldn’t help it. The salt stung, but my contacts seemed to stay in place, and after a couple blinks, I could see Stellan’s outline. He rose enough to stick just his face out of the water, take a breath, and come back down into the murky dark.
Yes. Why hadn’t I thought of that?
My body gasped for breath, and I had to force my mouth not to open yet. I rose just like he did—but stopped. I tried again.
Something was pulling on the back of my dress. I yanked on it, but it wouldn’t budge. It took me a second to process what was happening. I’d pressed far enough back into this crevice that I’d run into the ropes or the hooks or something. My dress was stuck.
I was trapped underwater. And I was out of air.
CHAPTER 15
I looked up frantically to see Stellan’s face right above me. I yanked on the dress again, harder. Stellan’s eyes went wide. Sparkles danced in front of my eyes.
The men were above us, still talking, sounding fainter now as my head fuzzed. I pushed out the last tiny bit of air as I yanked harder on my dress, then Stellan was pulling at it, too.
Air.
I felt Stellan move away—maybe, I wasn’t sure. Air air air air any second now my mouth was going to pop open and I was going to inhale water it was physiological you couldn’t stop it that was how you drowned air it was like my mouth was being forced open air if I died no one else would save my mom the Order would kill her air—no no no no said the last wisps of thought in my mind—but I was breathing in and I couldn’t stop it—