The Seat of Magic (20 page)

Joaquim looked like he felt even worse. He folded the sheet carefully against her chin, not allowing her butchered throat to show. He gestured to Oriana. “Please, Miss Paredes.”

Oriana came to Duilio's side and gazed down at that pallid face. “I don't recognize her.”

She turned and held out a hand for Marina. Her sister approached more slowly, as if afraid of what lay there. Oriana set an arm about her waist. Marina slowly lifted her eyes to look at the dead girl's pale face. Her response was immediate. She laid both
hands over her face and began to sob. Oriana wrapped her arms about Marina and turned her away.

Joaquim caught Duilio's eye. “I'll need to talk to the family.”

That would present its own set of challenges, Duilio reckoned. “I'll take the two of them to Marina's flat, and meet you back here.”

“No, I'll escort them there,” Joaquim said. “I already know where it is. Then we can figure out where the family lives.”

Oriana had evidently been listening, because she mouthed something at Duilio over her sister's bowed head. He didn't catch her words though, and returned a confused look.

“Ask my father,” Oriana said softly. “Ask him to go with you.”

He could swallow his pride and do that. Monteiro would know far better how to handle the situation. Joaquim crossed to where Oriana and her sister stood. Marina had stopped crying. She wiped her cheeks with her borrowed handkerchief.

“She's a friend of mine, Felipa Reyna,” Marina said brokenly. “Her family lives on Bragas Street.”

Joaquim leaned down to look her in the face. “I'd like to take you and your sister back to your flat, Miss Arenias. Your father will understand.”

She nodded, her eyes fixed on the handkerchief that she twisted in her gloved fingers. “We close this afternoon anyway. But Father will be waiting for me.”

“Joaquim and I are going there, so we'll explain where you are,” Duilio reassured her. “And we'll see that your friend's body is properly taken care of, I promise.”

*   *   *

O
riana sat on one of the soft upholstered chairs in Marina's tiny rented flat while her sister heated water for tea in a kettle set atop her radiator. The place suited Marina. There were two rooms—a sitting room and a bedroom with furnishings that looked moderately worn. It was a soft and humanly feminine place, a touch
shabby, and quite unlike the masculine brown-and-ivory elegance of the Ferreira household.

Marina settled in the other chair across from her, a tufted-back armchair in a butter-colored floral. “I knew he was human.”

Those were the first words Marina had volunteered since they'd come upstairs. She must mean Joaquim Tavares. Oriana had been waiting for Marina to say something,
ask
something. She'd been expecting to talk about the years they'd been separated, when Oriana had thought her sister was dead. No . . . instead Marina wanted to talk about Joaquim Tavares. “But he didn't know you were a sereia. Is that what you're saying?”

“I thought perhaps he might take me for a walk in the park one day, or down to the seashore at Matosinhos to hunt for shells. I thought perhaps dinner in a fine restaurant. It was foolish. Everything's ruined now,” Marina said, “because I'm not human.”

Oriana managed to hold in her groan. “Marina, you only met him yesterday.”

“I felt the tie between us, Ori,” Marina protested. “I was so sure.”

Oriana could understand her sister placing Joaquim Tavares on a pedestal when he'd come to her aid. No doubt he'd become her hero in that moment, but there was no guarantee he would reciprocate her admiration. Oriana settled for truism, since nothing she said would make Marina feel better. “If your souls are tied together, then everything will work out in the end, Mari, human or not.”

The teakettle began making a feeble whistle, probably the best it would manage under the circumstances. Marina opened the top, funneled in a handful of leaves, and set it back on the radiator. “And you and Mr. Ferreira? He must be tied to you or he wouldn't have been the one to go after you.”

The soft chair in which Oriana sat abruptly became uncomfortable. She had never felt at ease talking about her feelings. “He's a
gentleman, Marina,” she said, trying to sound dismissive. “I'm merely a servant.”

“You're too smart to be a servant.” Marina shrugged then. “Besides, Lady P married our father, and she's a noblewoman.”

“Lady P?” Oriana was glad she didn't have her tea yet. She would have choked on it.

“I got tired of saying
Lady Pereira de Santos.
” Marina gestured airily with each syllable of the lady's name. “She doesn't mind.”

Oriana's stomach felt hollow. Had the lady replaced their mother in Marina's mind? Marina had been only eight when their mother died. Twelve herself, Oriana had become Marina's mother, in a way. Perhaps she'd been replaced as well. “Do you like her?”

“Well, she's actually very nice. She seems unfriendly, but that's because she has to act that way.” Marina paused, her lips pursed. “That doesn't sound right. Um . . . it's like a mask that she wears, because she has to be very careful about who learns the truth about her, so she can't make many friends.”

Oriana thought of the hard face Lady Pereira de Santos presented to the world, and realized that despite her awkward words, Marina might have hit on the truth. The lady couldn't afford for anyone to find out she'd remarried. Would she become plain Mrs. Monteiro then? Or would she retain her status? Oriana wasn't certain how that worked. And how would it affect the woman's control over her stepson and daughter? “How many people know about her and Father?”

“Not many,” Marina admitted. “She has a daughter my age, though. Ana and I became friends after I came here, although Ana's very quiet.”

Wallflower
was the term generally applied to Lady Ana. Although attractive, Ana had the reputation of being wordless. She was also quite tall, which wasn't fashionable. While Isabel had never mocked Ana, she hadn't made any effort to befriend her either,
meaning that Oriana had never had the chance to speak to her. “Does Lady Ana know?”

Marina nodded. “Ana likes Father.”

Everyone likes Father.
Gods help her, Duilio probably liked her father, too. Oriana sighed.

“Lady P said Mr. Ferreira is interested in you,” Marina said brightly. “She went to see him at his house and he was very concerned.”

Over the years they'd been separated, Oriana had forgotten her sister's gentle tenacity. Marina would pick one topic and hang on to it like a crab—in the sweetest way possible. Oriana tried changing the subject. “So tell me about the exiles here. How many are there?”

“Not that many,” Marina said as she poured tea through a strainer into her cup. “Some decided to go to other cities—too dangerous here. I think Father said there were less than fifty.”

The arm of the government that sent spies into the city had estimated that at closer to thirty. Oriana suspected her father's estimate was more accurate. Despite being male, his position in the city had made him a natural leader among the exiles.

“Your Mr. Ferreira is rather handsome,” Marina added. “Has he ever kissed you?”

Oriana sank farther down in her chair. She hadn't seen her sister in three years, and Marina wanted to talk about
males
, of all things.

“You should just tell me, because I'm not going to give up.” Marina handed her the first cup of tea. “So when did you first meet him? Did you know, then?”

Oriana took a sip of the weak tea, wishing she had coffee to sustain her instead. She had no idea how to answer Marina's last question. She wasn't certain exactly when she'd suspected her tie to him. The feeling had grown slowly. And even if she did feel a tie to Duilio, she wasn't certain how he felt about her. He'd told her he would be her friend. That implied he eventually intended to pursue
a closer relationship, after she'd had enough time to decide what she wanted.

But to placate Marina and distract her from the sorrows of the day, Oriana decided to tell her everything that had passed between her and Duilio Ferreira. Well, almost everything. “The first time I met him,” she began, “was several days after Isabel Amaral died. It turned out he'd actually been looking for
me.
”

She told of Duilio offering her a position as his mother's companion. She'd taken the job because it had been the only way she could afford to stay in the city and hunt for Isabel's murderer. That search had led to Maraval, and in the end Oriana had
called
the marquis and his accomplices into the ocean—most of them to their deaths—to prevent them from shooting Duilio.

Marina clapped. “That's wonderful. Did he kiss you
then
?”

Oriana laid her hands over her face.
It's going to be a long afternoon.

M
onteiro agreed to accompany them to the house of the dead girl's parents. He did, however, demand to look at the body first, to assure that no mistake had been made. It seemed a reasonable request, so once again Duilio visited that quiet back room of the morgue. Gonzalo guarded the door while Joaquim drew back the sheets to expose only the girl's face.

“Damnation,” Monteiro said, and then made the sign of the cross. “It is Felipa Reyna. What happened to her?”

“Her throat was torn out, sir,” Joaquim said.

Monteiro turned his dark eyes on Joaquim. “When?”

“Gonzalo guessed yesterday, sometime during the evening. He didn't have a doctor come look at her because he knew it would be reported. He's fairly knowledgeable himself, though.”

Monteiro turned his eyes on Duilio. “After the attack on Marina. If you'd warned me yesterday about the murders, I still couldn't have gotten the word out in time to save her.”

Duilio felt a wave of relief. Although he hadn't intended to point out that fact, he hadn't wanted Oriana's father blaming him either. “No, sir.”

Monteiro gazed down at the body. “Will you show me what they did?”

Duilio pulled back the sheet. The girl's throat had been sliced away, not much more than the spine and the bloody flesh around the
back of the neck remaining to hold her head to her body. The cuts were clean, so the killer had used a sharp blade. Surely her death had come quickly, some small consolation.

“They took her gills,” Monteiro said.

“Is there any significance to that?” Duilio asked.

“I don't know.” Monteiro grabbed the edge of the sheet and yanked it back over the girl's waxy face. “She'll be safe here?”

Joaquim nodded. “Gonzalo said he'd stay on duty until someone comes to take the body. He'll keep everyone out of here.”

“Then let's get moving,” Monteiro said.

*   *   *

T
he Reyna family lived in a modest three-story house on Bragas Street, but they had the entire first floor, a large home in this part of town. Duilio and Joaquim waited near the parlor door while Monteiro broke the news to the girl's parents. The father covered his face and began to moan. The strong-jawed mother, with her straight brown hair drawn sternly back from a face that looked much like her daughter's, fixed a wrathful eye on Monteiro. “Who killed her?”

Monteiro shot a quick glance at Joaquim, but answered anyway. “They don't know. There have been two other murders of nonhuman girls in the city in the last two weeks—an otter girl and a selkie. Mr. Ferreira and Inspector Tavares suspect this may be related to those.” His hands moved fluidly while he spoke, and Duilio could only wonder what he was telling them.

The woman turned angry eyes on Duilio and Joaquim, measuring them. Then she turned back to Monteiro. “And what about my daughter?”

Monteiro touched a finger to his chin and said, “Arrangements need to be made for her body, Rute, as soon as possible. The police are hiding it from themselves. They are bound to notice what they are doing eventually.”

The husband continued to moan, his head in his hands. The
woman cast a quick glance at him, took a tight breath and said, “I'll go talk to the mortician. We'll fetch her home.”

“It is gruesome,” Monteiro added. “Julio shouldn't see her until the mortician has prepared her. The girls either, honestly.”

The woman nodded grimly, and then fixed her red-rimmed eyes on Joaquim and Duilio where they stood by the door. “I am aware you aren't required to do this for foreigners like us. You have my gratitude.”

While her sentiment sounded grudging, Duilio could hardly blame her.

Joaquim just inclined his head. “I am very sorry for your loss, madam.”

*   *   *

M
aneuvering the girl's body to the mortician's without anyone noticing the commotion proved more difficult than they'd anticipated. Even so, by four the girl's body was out of the morgue and safely out of police hands. The mortician turned out to be another Sympathizer, a man who'd done this service for nonhumans before.

If nothing else, Duilio's new acquaintance with Monteiro was affording him the opportunity to meet a variety of the Golden City's Sympathizers. While the Ferreira family had always shared that sentiment, they had never sought out others. It was unsafe. Any one of the people they dealt with—the humans, at least—could as easily take the prince's coin to betray them. And while Duilio had always known his family was at risk, making contacts with members of that community made it clearer how much
more
vulnerable those who took an active part in resisting the prince's edict were.

After leaving Joaquim at the police station, Duilio decided he would walk to Miss Arenias' flat to escort Oriana back to the house. He was surprised when Monteiro offered to accompany him. While the man had been grateful to Joaquim for coming to Marina's aid and for their actions concerning the dead girl, it was also clear he
remained irritated over something, and Duilio strongly suspected that irritation was with
him
.

“Your help this afternoon was invaluable,” Duilio told Monteiro as they proceeded toward Virtudes Street. The afternoon traffic was heavy enough that they didn't have much privacy, so their conversation had been sporadic. People hurried on either side, heading toward their homes, brushing up against them in their rush. Duilio kept an eye on that flow of pedestrians as they walked. “We were unsure how to approach the family.”

Monteiro settled his hat on his head more firmly. “It would have been equally difficult if they were human. But the family would not have known your sympathies or those of Mr. Tavares, and so it would have taken much longer. You do smell, by the way.”

Monteiro didn't mean the normal perspiration that chasing all over the city would have engendered—he surely meant the musk. “Yes,” Duilio admitted, “most people mistake it for cologne. Your daughter did, as well, at first.”

“I don't know exactly what that legendary charm consists of,” Monteiro said, stepping to one side to let a pair of women garbed like factory workers pass them. “However, I suspect smell plays a part in it.”

“I don't know the answer myself,” Duilio admitted. “My half brother simply looks at women and they fall all over themselves.”

“Have you tried to charm my daughter?”

“I have never tried to charm
anyone
,” Duilio said. “Not by anything other than good manners and attentiveness.”

Monteiro walked on for a moment. “Have you heard her
call
?”

Duilio looked ahead, trying to count how many more blocks there were until they reached the right building. Two? Three?
Please let it be two.
“I have, sir, although I should tell you that due to my bloodlines, I am not as susceptible to her voice as other men.”

“But that's why you're interested in her, is it not?”

Of all the things he didn't need to discuss with Monteiro, the chief one was his relationship with Oriana. “My interest in her predates that incident, sir.”

“Ah,” Monteiro said.

And because Duilio wanted to make certain the man didn't make any further false assumptions about his daughter or her relationship with him, he said, “And she is not my lover, no matter what you may think.”

Monteiro stopped on the cobbles and faced him. “Why tell me that?”

Duilio refused to flinch under Monteiro's anger. “Because in our first meeting in your office, you suggested to her that you believed that.”

“And you don't want anyone to associate the two of you?” Monteiro's tone sounded bitter.

Duilio forced a smile, hoping that would emphasize his good intentions. “That's not my reasoning. I don't want
you
to think poorly of her. I admire her more than I can say. I suspect she finds it painful that her own father does not share that admiration.”

Monteiro's jaw clenched. “You're very good at rudeness cloaked in fine words.”

“Simple truth. In normal circumstances,” Duilio said, “I would walk away from this discussion, but my mother asked me not to.”

“A dutiful son as well,” Monteiro said with a shake of his head. “Oriana and I are both too hot tempered for our own good. We always say things we don't mean.”

And at that Duilio felt a real smile tugging at his lips. He had, on first acquaintance, thought Oriana Paredes cool and emotionless. It was only after he'd known her for a time that her true emotions had begun to show. They crossed Taipas Street, now within sight of the door to Marina's building.

“So what exactly are your intentions toward my daughter?”
Monteiro snapped as if he'd been holding back that question all afternoon.

Duilio opened the door of the building, which revealed a narrow stairwell. “Sir, whatever my intentions toward her, I suspect that if I discuss them with
you
, she will kill me.”

Monteiro went on inside. “You know her well, then.”

They were admitted to the younger sister's rented rooms—a feminine and frilly place that would not suit Oriana at all. And after a round of pleasantries, Duilio extended an invitation for Monteiro and daughter to come visit the Ferreira household, perhaps for dinner some evening. It might set the man's mind at ease and satisfy Marina's all-too-blatant curiosity about Oriana's situation there. But having seen Oriana's face, he quickly excused himself to the younger woman, claiming they had to leave.

“You look tired,” he said once they were on the street, Oriana's hand tucked in the crook of his arm.

“She wears me out.” Oriana wore a sheepish look when admitting that. “I'd forgotten how quickly. If you please, tell me what happened with the family.”

So he spent the remainder of the walk back to the house going over his afternoon with Joaquim and her father, which she wryly noted might have been easier on her nerves.

*   *   *

T
hey arrived back at the Ferreira house in time to change for dinner, so Oriana let Teresa dress her like a doll in a new rose-colored silk gown with a high-collared infill in white that would hide her throat. Teresa arranged her hair into a simple knot, produced a pair of silver earrings with opal drops, and then began to apply powder to Oriana's bruised cheek.

Marina would love this—being treated like a lady, dressed in fine human garments with pretty jewelry that sparkled. Marina would probably be content to live the rest of her life among humans
here in the Golden City. She'd always been a retiring girl, never taking the lead in anything. The way women were sheltered in this country must suit her far better. How would her own life have been different if she'd listened to Marina's childish urgings and run away
with
her to find their father after his exile? Would she have a little flat in the city, work at their father's business, and think nothing was more important than finding a mate?

That was unfair,
Oriana thought ruefully.

Marina had found the nerve to go alone and find passage on an unfamiliar ship to Northern Portugal. She'd managed to find Father, all on her own. No matter how immature Marina might seem, three years ago she'd had the courage to step off the safe path and make her own destiny. At the same time, Oriana had let herself be entangled further and further in her aunts' web of responsibility and propriety and service. Of the two of them, Marina had more control over her own life.
That makes me the fool, doesn't it?

“Will that do, Miss Paredes?” Teresa asked brightly as she placed the powder puff back in its tin.

Oriana gazed at her reflection. Teresa had done a good job making her look like a human lady, whether or not that was what she wanted to be. “Yes. Thank you, Teresa.”

The girl bobbed her head, collected the clothes Oriana had worn that afternoon, and let herself out of the bedroom.

What exactly do I want?
Oriana peered at her reflection, the bruise on her cheek hidden by powder. The split lip had almost healed. She took a deep breath.

I want to find out whoever killed Felipa Reyna and stop them. I want to keep Marina safe from them forever.
She had helped find Isabel's killers; she could do this. Fortunately, Duilio didn't believe in coddling females and protecting them from the truth. He wouldn't cut her out of the investigation.

I want to find out who sentenced me to death,
she added.
I want to be able to go home
. She suspected that Maria Melo had been
behind that, although she wasn't sure why. She'd done everything the spy had asked of her, intentionally or not. So in truth, she wanted to know
why
she'd been sacrificed a second time.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
I want Duilio Ferreira.

When she'd been held on that boat, she'd decided she would return to the Golden City eventually to court him. But that had been a dream. Faced with the reality of being back in the city, in his house, all the impracticalities of that idea had come back to her. She was an imposter here in his world . . . and he would never fit in hers.

A knock sounded at her bedroom door, Duilio come to escort her down to dinner. Gathering her nerve, she went to meet him at the door. When she opened it, his eyes surveyed her new outfit and he smiled. “I think that color suits you, Oriana.”

She thanked him, feeling warmth spreading through her body under his regard. He walked next to her down the stairs, exchanging pleasantries as if they did this every day. Or as if they would do it every day. So she smiled at him and played along. His mother was already waiting in the sitting room, and they all went in to dinner together.

Over the meal he apprised his mother of their activities that day, leaving out the more gruesome parts regarding Felipa Reyna's death, probably out of deference to the venue rather than fear of oversetting his mother. Eventually the lady got around to questioning Oriana about her sister, Marina's unexpected acquaintance with Joaquim Tavares, and asked Duilio some rather pointed questions about the inspector's behavior toward Marina. As she was Joaquim's foster mother, Oriana didn't find that curiosity surprising.