I ached all over. “This is more difficult than I thought.”
Roy grasped my face in his thick hands, but this time his touch was gentle. “You’ve done well.” Then his eyes narrowed. “Don’t defy me again.”
I stood there, stunned, as he walked away. Roy seldom gave praise, and had never praised me for anything without comparing me to someone who did better. “Wait.” I stalked over to him. “You sick bastard. I want my damn letter.”
He snorted, handing it over. “I mean it. Don’t show it to him. I’ll know if you do.”
What could possibly be in there? “I thought you’d be angry.”
“Why should I harm you?” He gave a small smile. “You’re destroying yourself better than I ever could.”
What the hell did Roy mean by that?
Tony ran to me. “Are you hurt?”
I shook my head, putting the letter in my pocket. “Tired,” I panted, “probably in need of a bath. But unharmed.”
Tony turned to Roy. “I meant what I said. We’re done. I’m through with you.”
Across the field, Katie stood watching.
Suddenly, Molly stood behind Roy. “Katie, do you still want to play?”
“Here I come,” Katie said, running up. She stepped between myself and Roy and faced him. “Daddy, if I argue, will you have men point guns at me too?”
Roy’s face softened as he leaned over. “You’re my very own darling girl. I’ll never let anyone harm you.”
Molly looked as if she might be sick.
Tony grabbed my arm. “You play your games then.”
“Bye, Tony,” Katie said in a plaintive voice.
Tony never looked back.
In the carriage, Tony sat, his face turned away.
I said, “What do we do now?”
“Were you taunting me?”
I peered at him. “What?”
“Were you taunting me, back in February, when you asked me to teach you to shoot?”
“No! I wanted to learn to shoot better. I didn’t dare go to your father after you denounced him. Yet I should have killed Frank Pagliacci. I thought maybe you —”
“That I could teach you something, anything you didn’t already know?” He let out a bitter laugh. “All this time, I thought I was keeping you from the harsh edges of this terrible world. Instead, I find you’re well in the thick of it!” He ran his hand through his hair. “It’s as if I don’t know you.”
I’ve humiliated him yet again. “It’s not that, Tony.”
He didn’t speak for several seconds, and when he did, he sounded weary. “What am I supposed to think? You shoot better than I ever could. The staff loves you. The people love you. You’ve got my own cousins hiding things from me. Do you want the Family, Jacqui? Is that what this is about?”
“Are you mad? All any of us want is for you to be happy.” I moved to sit beside him in the carriage. “My fondest wish is for us both to be happy.”
Well, my second fondest, but it was good enough.
I kissed his poor bruised hand. “But you’re not happy. Your eyes are full of fear and guilt. You have nightmares, and you still don’t eat enough.” Whatever bothered him had something to do with Gardena Diamond, but I didn’t know what. “Something’s terribly wrong, I can feel it, yet I don’t know how to help you.”
He put his arm round me. “I’m sorry, Jacqui.” He kissed my forehead. “I don’t know how to help me either.”
The Intent
We sat like this for some time, then I asked, “What did your father say when you were shooting?”
Tony and Roy — and sometimes Molly — spoke this other language from time to time, but never before when they thought I might hear.
Tony hesitated. “He told me, ‘What will you do when it’s time to protect her? Let her die?’”
I recalled Tony’s nightmare a few months back of me lying cold and still.
“He’s trying to cause me harm and upset in any way he can.” Tony leaned his elbows on his knees, his face in his hands. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say he tried to drive me mad.”
That seemed unlikely — but it wouldn’t help to say so. “What language do you and your parents speak?”
This seemed to cheer Tony somewhat. “Italian. We’ve spoken it as long as I can remember.”
“Did your family not teach you Italian?”
My cheeks burned. “I was born in the Spadros Pot, Gardena. I said so at our dinner.”
She blushed. “Forgive me. I meant the Spadros Family.”
Gardena’s comment back in February now made sense. Why would they not teach me?
Ah. For the same reason I didn’t teach Kouri-Vini to Tony. Or why Zia used hand signs with Morton. In case you might be false.
I smiled, thinking of all the secrets held behind spoken walls.
Tony smiled back, and I wondered at his and Gardena’s secret. “Gardena told me her family speaks Italian as well.”
Tony gave a short fond laugh. “Her mother knows many languages.” His face sobered. “Or at least, she used to. But Mrs. Diamond had a passion for pre-Catastrophe cultures, and a notable one was based in Italy.
“I’ve never been there, but she and Gardena went for a whole year when Gardena was fourteen.” He paused, as if in thought. “Or maybe fifteen. I think it was to get her away from the war between our Families.”
This made sense. My mother kept me inside that long year, as men fought and died. I was glad to stay inside, mourn Air’s death. And avoid Roy’s men.
The air smelled of morning as I sat playing jacks near the open doorway. Golden light slanted in, tiny motes of dust dancing in it. Snores filled the air.
Hands grabbed me from behind, and I screamed in terror.
My eyes stung at the sudden memory.
Tony put his face in his hands. He sounded defeated, ashamed. “Which of course, you know of much better than I.”
I moved across from him, took a deep breath, let it out. “It’s of no consequence.”
Tony said nothing. But then, he didn’t need to say anything. There was nothing he could say.
He couldn’t protect me from what I’d already seen and done.
I opened the letter. It was written in a woman’s hand, different from all those I had seen so far:
I will take everything you hold dear, spawn of Spadros: your home, your wife, your family, your bastard heir. Even now your brother lies beaten by my men. I can strike you anywhere, at any time, and it will never stop until I’ve destroyed you.
Brother?
I remembered Dr. Salmon’s tale of Acevedo Spadros II, Roy’s father, his liaison with Tony’s mother Molly, and their plan for her to marry Roy.
I suppose they felt it a good way to move her into the house, to have their affair in front of Mr. Acevedo’s wife without anyone knowing.
I stared at Tony in shock.
Roy was not Tony’s father at all.
“What is it?” Tony said. “What does it say?”
Don’t tell him. I’ll know if you do.
I shook my head. Tony adored the man he thought to be his grandfather. In the Pot, nobody cared who sired a child, but here, it seemed vital. “Believe me: you don’t want to read this.”
Tony let out a bitter laugh. “And my father knew you would read it.”
What will Roy do to Molly? “Oh, gods.”
“What?”
“They mean to destroy your mother, too.”
Fear overwhelmed me: I almost had the carriage turn round. Yet I realized that Roy had this letter for months now. If he meant to harm Molly, he had many chances to do so.
He must have already known of her betrayal.
I crumpled the message, shoved it in my pocket, and put my face in my hands. “You asked what they want. Now I know. They mean harm to everyone, down to your lowest servants. They mean to utterly destroy the Spadros Family.”
Yet a young black-haired woman sent this. Birdie?
That must b
e one trusted secretary. A female secretary was unusual enough, but the woman must be part of their inmost circle to be allowed this kind of information.
Tony said, “I want nothing more than to read this letter. Yet I fear to do so.”
“He told me he would know if you read it. I believe he would.” What would Tony do if he learned what his mother had done? This could destroy their relationship. “I wish I never had. This is not something you want to see.”
Tony shuddered. “I remember the false note my father got, supposedly from me, and the things it contained. You’re right; I wish to see no more.” He kissed my hands, gripping them tightly. “Why would my father let you read such filth?”
I shrugged. Why indeed. He could have refused to let me read the letter even after I won his little game. “Who knows why Roy Spadros does what he does?”
Tony leaned his elbow on the base of the carriage-window and looked away, hand to his chin. “I meant what I said. I want nothing more to do with him.”
The carriage arrived at Spadros Manor, and we returned to our rooms to change into house clothes. I locked the letter in my drawer before I did anything else, but Morton’s warning loomed ever-present in my mind. I had a safer place for this letter, once Amelia was off on an errand.
This letter gave me great pause. The person who wrote this knew the Spadros Family’s most intimate secrets: Amelia’s violation, Molly’s affair. Yet instead of making these things public, they taunted Roy with the knowledge.
Who would feel safe enough — or was mad enough — to taunt Roy Spadros?
The Launch
After luncheon the next day, we set off for the yacht launch in a stony silence. Tony hadn’t spoken to me since returning to the Manor, and I wondered how long he meant to continue.
I wasn’t looking forward to this event. Tony never told me why he feared going, which worried me no end. And since this was the first time I’d been invited to any event by the Clubbs since last I saw Nina ... I had no idea what to expect.
Armed outriders came with us, but more this time, as we traveled north, crossing the “betters’ bridge” to Clubb quadrant.
Sandstone cobbles paved Clubb quadrant streets in front of golden-brown buildings trimmed in oak and brass. When we reached the main street out to the countryside, we turned left, towards quadrant center.
Outsiders, strangely dressed, even women wearing trousers! Some had oddly cut hair in unnatural colors. Exotic dogs, brass follow-carts piled with parcels, or silver-toned mechanical men accompanied them, clanking and hissing as they went.
Our carriage turned right, towards the marina. The streets teemed with delivery trucks and golden-haired pedestrians. Clubb Family carriages in brass-trimmed oak pulled by gold champagne horses wearing brown and golden tackle choked the streets. We turned right, then left — after our outriders stopped traffic — into an enormous entryway. Golden roses filled the central area as our carriage rounded it.
To our right stood the boathouse, a large edifice of sandstone and oak. A golden carpet led up to an oak-stained stair with brass banisters, then a large set of glass-paneled oak doors. Men in golden-brown Clubb livery opened the doors as we approached.
Inside, panels explaining the history of Bridges’ waterways lined the walls. Mock-ups of champion boats stood behind glass. A large historical craft hung from the high oak rafters.
Alexander and Regina Clubb came across the wide hall to greet us. Both golden-haired and (at minimum) in their seventies, they appeared — and moved — as a couple twenty years younger.
Mrs. Clubb grabbed me by the arms, towering over me. “I’ll not have my Nina become a woman-lover, especially with a Pot rag.”
The memory stopped me; Tony moved past me to greet them.
“Welcome,” Mr. Clubb said, and shook Tony’s hand.
Tony wore his public face. “A pleasure to see you.”
Mr. Clubb took my hand in his and kissed it, the metal of his mechanical left hand buffeted by the gloves we wore.
I stared at it in amazement: I would never be able to tell it was anything but real by its movements.
Mr. Clubb smiled. “So happy to see you again.”
The man was handsome, even if he was terribly old. How did he manage to look so well? “And I you.”
Tony kissed Mrs. Clubb’s hand, then she took mine.
For a moment, I felt disoriented: we were the same height now. She seemed so terrifying before.
But today, she smiled. “I’m so glad you could attend.” She retraced her steps, still holding my hand. “I can’t wait for you to see our new yacht.”
I fought the urge to snatch my hand back. Why was I remembering these things, having these feelings, now? “The Ace of Clubbs. What does this signify?”
Mrs. Clubb glanced away with an ironic, amused laugh. “Our beloved son, of course.”
His name, Lancelot, derived from the Holy Cards, a Jack variation. Shouldn’t he be the Jack of Clubbs? And if they intended to give Lance this honor — the highest and lowest of them all — why not name him Ace? As old as Alexander and Regina Clubb were, did they expect more children? But ... he was the youngest. And their heir. “You must love him very much.”
She smiled, color rising in her cheeks. “We do.”
Attendants in Clubb livery opened the doors onto a wide dock of polished oak where a party lay spread: food, drink, musicians, and well-dressed people from all four quadrants.
To my relief, Regina Clubb let go of my hand. “Enjoy,” she said, disappearing into the crowd.
My eye immediately went to Jonathan Diamond. He said a word to his companions, raised his water glass, and came to us.
Tony said, “I didn’t know you got an invite to this shindig.”
Jon laughed. “We’re all here, it seems.” He pointed to a very pale Helen Hart, who sat under an awning with her Inventor husband Etienne, a dumpy auburn-haired man in his fifties wearing his odd spectacles. As usual, he had his nose in a book. Helen, dressed in black, sipped her tea in silence.
Surely Jon’s twin Jack didn’t attend. Heart pounding, I took Tony’s arm and said to Jon, “Who else is here?”
Jon glanced over my shoulder. “Turn round and you’ll see.”
So we did. “Gardena!” Relieved, I hugged Jon’s younger sister. “I’m so glad to see you.”
Gardena Diamond’s raven curls were up-swept under a black hat with navy blue feathers in it, matching her navy blue gown. Jon wore a cravat matching his sister’s dress, pinned with the symbol of his Family in white.
“Miss Diamond,” Tony said in a flat voice.
Gardena didn’t smile or meet Tony’s eye. “Mr. Spadros.”
Oh, dear. Whatever went on between them at Queen’s Day dinner ... had not been resolved in the slightest.
A stern voice said, “There you are.” Cesare Diamond, a man in his early thirties, gripped his sister’s arm. “Your presence is requested.” He ignored us as he yanked Gardena aside.
“That man infuriates me,” Tony said.
Jon laughed. “He generally has that effect.”
Tony twitched. Evidently, he had forgotten Jon stood so close by. “My apologies.” Tony let out a breath. “Your brother delights in displaying his disdain for my wife and I.” He glanced over. Cesare lectured his sister, who didn’t appear to be taking it well. “Not to mention everyone else.”
I took Jon’s arm. “When will the launching take place?”
“Oh, any time, I’d think, now that we’re all here,” Jon said.
Regina Clubb proceeded out, followed by eight of her daughters. They wore the same navy blue dresses as their mother, had the same golden hair, thin faces, and haughty demeanor. Mrs. Clubb spoke on a megaphone. “Welcome to the launch of our newest craft, the Ace of Clubbs!”
Applause followed. Jon flushed, appearing embarrassed; Tony’s jaw clenched.
“Our daughter, Apprentice of the Dealers Kitty Clubb, is here to offer the blessing.”
; Surprised murmurs rose as Kitty Clubb strode forward, dressed in a pale green robe with a white scarf of the same material which completely covered her hair. Everyone rose — Helen Hart, with help — and bowed or curtsied.
“So she did join the Dealers,” Jon said. “How remarkable.”
Kitty raised her hand. “We thank the Floorman for the bounty provided to create this vessel. May the Dealer richly bless those it carries, bringing them safely through the rounds to come.” She lowered her hand, and everyone murmured, “So be it.”
“Thank you, Blessed Apprentice,” Regina Clubb said. “Launching the yacht is our son and heir, Master Lancelot Clubb.”
A man of three and twenty with thick straight golden hair, Lance Clubb hesitated, then stepped forward. He grasped the champagne bottle, tied to a boom which jutted a foot from the grand yacht’s deck, and launched it at the side of the craft.
The bottle struck full on, yet did not break.
Everyone laughed; Lance turned bright red.
“No matter,” Mrs. Clubb said. “Let’s try this again.”
Men scrambled to retrieve the bottle.
Arms held high, Lance flung the bottle towards the yacht as if it offended him and it broke, spraying champagne over the dock. We cheered, and he turned towards us with a sheepish grin.
“I could almost like the man,” Tony murmured.
“What?”
Tony seemed startled. “Nothing. My pardons.”
Why would Tony dislike Lance? Even though the man was a year our senior, he had something of a young child about him, as if he hadn’t yet matured. I found it endearing.
Mrs. Clubb said, “Please accompany us on the Ace of Clubbs for its maiden voyage.” We followed up the wide gangplank past photographers and reporters barred by a pair of golden ribbons.
The Ace of Clubbs, although vastly larger in size, reminded me of Morton’s craft the Finesse, now in pieces at the bottom of the river: white with an oak interior. The Ace of Clubbs had immense golden sails with the Clubb symbol embroidered in golden-brown. Brass railings and gold bunting adorned the sides.
The Ace of Clubs Page 11