by K. A. Linde
Cyrene jumped up in shock. “What in the Creator’s name?”
“Found him snooping outside the window, listening in on your conversation when I caught him,” Ceis’f added.
The atmosphere shifted instantly. Avoca had her knives out from her hidden compartment and was threateningly twirling them. Ahlvie looked laid-back, but she could see his shoulders were tensed, as he was waiting for a fight. Orden reached for a sword at his belt. Even Maelia shifted into a fighting stance. Her hands strayed to her hips, but there was nowhere to conceal a weapon in these flimsy Eleysian dresses. Not that they would have done her much good.
The man grunted when he came to a stop at their feet. His light hair fell forward against his forehead as he hung his head and dropped into a crouch. He wore all black clothing, and a black mask mostly obscured his face.
Cyrene walked forward before anyone could say anything in protest and ripped the mask from his face. “Dean?” she gasped.
“Hello, Cyrene.”
When the rest of the room realized who it was, they relaxed their hold on their weapons and shifted back into a neutral stance. But Cyrene didn’t move. She just stared at him in surprise. She hadn’t seen him in weeks, and now, he was stalking them outside of the palace grounds.
“Why were you outside of that window?” she demanded. “Why are you here?”
He didn’t look sheepish even though she thought he should for spying on her. “You and Maelia left without anyone for protection, and I wanted to make sure you were all right, so I followed you.”
“I’m getting rusty,” Maelia breathed.
“You followed us because you wanted us to be safe?” Cyrene asked. “Don’t lie to me. You were spying on us. Otherwise, you would have made your presence known.”
“I did want you to be safe.”
“And…you wanted to spy. Why?”
She had the strange realization that she was interrogating the Prince of the country she was currently in, and one of her friends had just thrown him through a window. If he had other soldiers with him, then they were about to be in a lot of trouble.
Dean stretched up to his full height, towering over Cyrene. “I wanted to know where you were going and why you left the palace grounds.”
“I didn’t think I was a prisoner.”
“You’re not, but most people who don’t want to be found have something to hide. I don’t apologize for following you.”
“Just for getting caught?” she quipped.
He smiled, and she tried to ignore the dip in her stomach. “For trying to get closer to you.”
Her cheeks heated at that comment, and she tried to regain control of the situation. “There are other ways to get close to me without spying on me!”
“Is he with us or not?” Ceis’f asked.
Everyone turned to Cyrene for the answer. Dean had saved them back in Aurum. There was no reason for her not to trust him after he had risked himself to get them out of the city and then spoken on her behalf to Queen Cassia so that she could stay. But still…she didn’t like him snooping around.
Dean raised his eyebrows and awaited her decision. “Cyrene?”
“Is there anyone else with you?”
“No,” he answered immediately.
Ceis’f nodded his head in confirmation.
“Fine. Yes, of course he’s with us,” she said, turning to Dean. “But don’t spy on us again.”
Cyrene looked to Maelia, who always protested when they added new people to their group. “I know…you don’t trust him.”
Maelia frowned and then puzzled over Dean. “No. I think I do.”
Cyrene balked. “Well then, I guess you are in.”
“Can we get back to the matter at hand?” Orden asked.
And just like that, Dean was accepted into their group.
“Mind if I ask what exactly this is all about?” Dean asked. “Is this about the people you’re looking for?”
She took a deep breath. “Yes. I know you said you’d never heard of them, but my source told me that they were rumored to be in Eleysia.”
“And you’ve been what? Scouring the island for them?” he asked.
“Something like that.”
“I could have helped. I happen to have valuable resources at my disposal.”
Ahlvie snorted. “Cyrene is trusting, but even she wouldn’t alert the palace to this.”
“So, tell me everything about these women. What are their surnames? What do they look like? Where were they last seen?”
Cyrene frowned. “We don’t know any of that information.”
“So, you’ve been looking everywhere for these two people off of just names then?” Dean asked skeptically.
Ceis’f threw his hands out and leaned back against the window frame. “I’m glad I’m not the only one who thinks this entire thing is insane.”
“Look, Basille Selby told me that I should come here to find them. It must be for a reason. It’s not a wild goose chase, and I won’t stop looking.”
Dean startled forward.
Cyrene gave him an appraising look. “What?”
“Basille Selby? You’re sure?”
“Yes. Why?”
“I don’t know Matilde and Vera, but I know Basille Selby,” he said after a moment, “and I can take you to him.”
Cyrene was sequestered with Dean on a gondola in the late afternoon the next day. He had offered to take her to see Basille. He hadn’t heard whether or not Basille was back on the island, but most people would return for the holiday season, and it was only ten days away.
Ceis’f was trailing them under Avoca’s orders even though Cyrene had assured them it wasn’t necessary. She had seen Dean fight and knew he was quite capable.
Avoca had promised to look into ways to track people with her Leif powers, and Ahlvie had readily agreed to help her locate the supplies she would need to do so. Ceis’f had protested, but Ahlvie and Avoca had been out the door and on their way to the Market Sector before he could get a word in.
“How exactly do you know Basille Selby?” Cyrene asked.
“He used to work in the palace,” Dean told her.
“Used to?”
Dean frowned and looked away from her. “He used to sit on the Privy Council.”
Cyrene started forward, shaking the boat and receiving a glare from the gondolier pushing them through the Upper Sector. “Excuse me? Are you sure we’re talking about the same person?”
“It was a long time ago, but I knew him as a child. He always shared wild stories about other lands, and he could keep a crowd captive for hours. I’d say he doted on me. But, after what happened, I’m not so sure.”
“The Basille Selby I met in the Laelish Market in Byern did not seem the type to ever be on a Privy Council. He certainly seemed to have stories of adventure, but he was not a nobleman. What happened?”
“He was caught in bed with my sister,” Dean said softly.
Cyrene’s eyebrows rose, and she gasped. “Which sister?”
“Brigette. But don’t mention it to him or her. No one really speaks about it at court anymore after he left the Council.”
“The royal heir to Eleysia was caught in bed with a man on the Privy Council.”
“A married man on the Privy Council, who was ten years older than her.”
Cyrene put her hand to her chest and held on to her seat. “Basille is married?”
“He was, but his wife came down with a fever shortly after that and never recovered. Some blamed him for her death. They claimed that her body couldn’t handle the knowledge of his affair. Others claimed that he poisoned her. No one really knows what happened.”
Cyrene was reeling. How could all of this be true about a simple peddler? But, of course, he wasn’t a simple peddler. Simple peddlers wouldn’t have adventure stories or magical books. They wouldn’t know the names of Master Domas or realize she had magic. And he had known.
“So, how did he become a peddler then?” Cyrene
asked, processing all of this information.
Dean shrugged. “I’m not entirely sure. He just disappeared and returned as someone else. I’m sure that story is one he guards closely.”
They lapsed into silence as the boat progressed down the narrow waterway. They rounded a bend into a lucrative part of the Upper Sector. Towering buildings were immaculate. It looked about as opposite as was possible from the area of the First Sector where they had been last night.
“Here we are,” Dean said, signaling for the boat to come to a stop.
Cyrene admired the house before her. It was a gorgeous building set to mirror the sandstone exterior of the palace. Though it was packed into the street and wedged in between two other houses, it clearly belonged to someone with significant wealth. Much of the other buildings they had passed seemed to have split residences by stories, but this was in a neighborhood where each house was unique. Each had its own dock, and a gorgeous stone bridge arched across the water.
The gondolier docked them at the house, and Dean helped Cyrene off the boat.
“What is this place?” she asked.
“Basille’s home.”
“He owns a mansion?”
“Unless he sold it, this home in Upper belongs to him. But I doubt he did. It’s a family home.”
Dean offered Cyrene his arm, and they walked forward. He rapped on the front door. A man opened it a minute later, and Cyrene balked at the person in front of her. This was the man she had seen Basille with in Byern.
“Whaddya want?” he asked.
“Good evening. We’re here to see Master Basille Selby. Is he in for the evening?” Dean said formally.
“He’s busy. Don’ like the looks uh ya.”
“Allow me to introduce myself. I am Prince Dean Ellison, and we’re here to see Master Basille Selby,” Dean said. He took a step toward the man. “Please ring him for us.”
The man stuttered before dropping into a quick bow. “Course, Majesty.”
Dean and Cyrene went into the enormous house, and Cyrene gasped at its grandeur. Intricate stonework created a mesmerizing pattern on the floor. The walls were a deep burgundy color, and the furniture was antique Eleysian craftsmanship. A large chandelier hung from the ceiling in the entryway.
They walked into a sitting room that was carpeted with deep red Aurumian rugs that must have cost a fortune. Biencan gold platters were arranged on a table beside Kelltic sculptures worked out of the precious metals from the Barren Mountains. Exotic portraits and tapestries covered the walls from Carharan work to novelties all the way from the country of Mastira. It was overdone in its lavishness but also incredible to see all the nations of Emporia together in one place.
“The Prince of the realm,” Basille said, entering the sitting room. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Hello, Master Selby,” Dean said.
Basille started when he saw Cyrene. “And with an Affiliate.”
“Hello, Basille. Good to see you again,” Cyrene said.
Basille Selby looked much the same as Cyrene remembered him. He was tall with thick dark hair slicked back. He wore traditional Eleysian garb though, switching out his traveling garments for silks. He must have recently bathed because he perfumed the room with a cloying scent. He was quite handsome, but she couldn’t imagine Princess Brigette falling into bed with him. She couldn’t picture him married either, not even in his house with all his grandiose ways.
“I’m not sure I can say the same. Cyrene, is it?” he asked, as if he didn’t remember.
But she could see his sharp eyes and knew he remembered all.
“You remember my name, Master Selby. You remember everything about our encounter,” Cyrene said.
“Is that so?” he asked. He took a seat in an armchair opposite Cyrene. “I meet a good number of people while on my travels. Faces start to blur.”
Cyrene slowly retrieved the Book of the Doma from her bag and held it up for him to look at once more. It had landed in her lap, because of the man before her. “Do you remember this?”
He smiled crookedly. “So, you made it.”
“Of course I did. No thanks to you.”
His eyes drifted to Dean and back. “And you manifested?” he asked, cautiously eyeing the book.
“You know I did. Why didn’t you just tell me what it meant?”
“Can’t talk about those things in Byern unless I want to lose my head.”
“Well, can we talk about them now?” she asked.
The man is so frustrating.
“What do you know, Basille?” Dean asked. He had the calm, calculated look of a man who was used to getting what he wanted, coupled with the skill of a man not to be reckoned with.
“You’ve grown a lot since I last saw you, boy,” Basille deflected.
“I’m not a boy anymore.”
“That, I can tell. Nineteen at the Eos holiday in ten days’ time, if I remember correctly. Did you come to bring my invitation?”
Dean leveled him with a stern gaze. “If you didn’t want to risk your neck in Byern, I doubt you would want to risk it here.”
“It’s been ten years since I was last on the palace grounds,” Basille said with a well-oiled smile. “I’m sure my presence would go completely unnoticed.”
Cyrene rolled her eyes. If everything Dean had said was true, then he would surely be noticed.
“Where have you been then?” Dean asked.
“Around the world and back again”—Basille flicked the sides of his mustache and then gestured around the room—“as you can see from all my exploits. No world is barred to the man who knows how to access it.”
“All but the palace grounds, it seems,” Cyrene said casually. “That brings me to the matter at hand. I’m here in Eleysia on your word. I am looking for Matilde and Vera, just as you said I should. How do I find them? And don’t play any more tricks. I have come a long way to get this information, and I will not haggle with a swindling peddler for it. Just spit it out.”
Basille’s smile took over his whole face. “My, have you grown since the first time I met you, little Affiliate. Once terrified of your own shadow and throwing your weight around with a title that had barely sat on your shoulders. A title that they give to seventeen-year-old girls with such high opinions of themselves.”
Dean took a step forward in anger. “Just answer her.”
“Or what?” Basille asked. “Stand down, soldier,” he said the term derisively. “I will speak to the Affiliate…for a price.”
“What price?” she demanded.
“What could you possibly want?” Dean asked.
“I’m a high-standing merchant. Everything can be bought for a price.”
Cyrene was certain that Basille did not mean money in this instance.
“Well?” Cyrene said.
“An invitation to your Eos ball is the price.”
Cyrene and Dean exchanged a glance. It was an easy enough thing to deliver. The ball was widely open to all nobility. Anyone with a piece of the beautiful Eleysian stationery stamped with the blue royal seal could attend. But why he wanted it could prove more problematic for them.
“You know, if you are discovered on the grounds, you will be in a world of trouble,” Dean cautioned.
“That is my battle to fight. You will not be responsible for what happens once the invitation is in my hand,” Basille said with a crooked smile.
Dean shrugged his shoulder at Cyrene. “I’ll do it. I can get one.”
Cyrene looked at him. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” he said, then turned to Basille. “Now, talk to her.”
“I reckon I don’t know much more about Doma history than you do. Except that I know it all to be true and not some idiotic story that Byern royalty tells the public. Domas lived and ruled with magic in Byern…and they do no longer.”
Cyrene nodded. She knew as much. The Dremylons had just been lying to everyone about what had actually happened. The knowledge that Doma had magic
would change the entire history of their country.
“How did they lose magic?” Cyrene asked.
“I hear there was a great war, and they lost. But I don’t know the specifics. I wasn’t there.”
“But Matilde and Vera were,” Cyrene said quickly. “They were Doma. That’s how you knew they could help me.”
Basille nodded slowly. “I knew they were Doma in hiding, but…to think they would be alive back during the War of the Light…” He considered this for a moment and then shook his head. “They would be over two thousand years old. That can’t be possible.”
“Why do you think they were alive back then?” Dean asked Cyrene.
“I don’t know. Just a hunch,” she lied.
Telling anyone she had been having visions of the ancient Domina Serafina wasn’t high on her priority list.
“So, where are they? How do I speak with them?” she asked.
“They’re the kind of people who can’t really be…found.”
Cyrene stood and glared at him in anger. “You sent me here to find them!”
“They’re the type who…find you.”
“You’re unbelievable! How could you make it seem so urgent to get me out of the country and all the way here to Eleysia to speak with them?”
“Because it was,” Basille said calmly. “Your magic is a death sentence in Byern. If anyone finds out about it, you will be slaughtered…as they have been doing for millennia.”
“What?” Cyrene stilled and felt herself shaking.
“Magic is not welcome in Byern. You are not welcome there. Viktor Dremylon murdered all magical Doma two thousand years ago, and anyone with magic since then has been hunted down and killed. It’s cursed.”
“But…I lived there my whole life, and nothing strange hap—” She couldn’t even finish that sentence. “The deaths. The Braj. All of that was because of my magic. They were trying to get rid of me, as they had done in the past. That makes sense.”
“What exactly makes sense?” Dean asked.
“A series of deaths happened in Byern that resulted in a Braj attacking me. I killed it with my powers, but it killed a number of other people who had some kind of relation to me. Do you think they were Doma?”