The Seat of Magic (27 page)

She'd come down to dinner an hour later, dressed in a new creation in pale blue. She looked serene and distant, an attitude he recalled from her earliest days in this house when she hadn't trusted him. Something
had
happened, and he desperately wanted to know what it was.

His mother didn't miss Oriana's distracted manner, and managed to keep the conversation moving over dinner, mostly discussing plans for the next evening's outing. Duilio was relieved when his mother pled tiredness after the meal and took herself up to her bed early. That left him and Oriana alone in the sitting room, the first time he'd managed to speak to her alone all day.

Oriana crossed to the far window and pulled the curtain back to gaze out at the darkened street. She glanced over her shoulder at him. “What did Joaquim want to talk to your mother about?”

Well, I should get that out of the way.
Oriana needed to know,
and he trusted her not to discuss it with anyone inappropriate. “I don't know if my mother's ever mentioned Joaquim's mother to you,” he said, “but Rosa Tavares came from Spain. She married Joaquim's father about six months before he was born.”

“Oh,” Oriana said softly, apparently grasping the import of that number. She turned her back to the window and leaned against the wall, eyes troubled. “I didn't realize.”

“Given his resemblance to the rest of the family, no one ever questioned his parentage.” Duilio leaned back against the beige sofa and crossed one ankle over the other. “His recent encounter with your sister made him . . .”

Her face lifted. “My sister?”

“Yes, apparently he'd seen her before, in his dreams. As long as ten years ago.”

Oriana's brows drew together. “So he's a seer?”

“Exactly. Because it passes father to son, that indicates he wasn't fathered by Joaquim Tavares—the elder Joaquim, I mean—but by someone who's a seer.”

“
Your
father,” she finished. “Which would also explain the resemblance between you two. Is this a problem?”

“Not for me or my mother,” Duilio told her. “I've always suspected, but thought I was wrong because he never showed signs of being a seer. Mother also guessed, but Father would never answer her questions about Joaquim's mother. And Rosa Tavares took the secret to her grave.”

“Yet your mother took him in when his mother died,” Oriana said. “Why?”

He laughed shortly. “Don't forget, my mother's a selkie. The harem shares a male and raises the children communally. Rosa Tavares was part of the extended family, therefore to Mother it would have been the only appropriate thing to do, no matter who fathered him.”

“And how did that sit with your father?” Oriana asked.

That was a thornier issue. “Well, Father was never happy to see Joaquim and Cristiano when he arrived home. They were immediately shuttled off to
their
father's house—again, the elder Joaquim Tavares—as soon as the ships arrived. Joaquim says that Alessio used to harass him about being the bastard son, which was why the two of them didn't get along. Before Alessio went to Coimbra, he and Joaquim actually fought a couple of times. That taught Alessio to leave him alone. Joaquim never told me why they fought, though, because he didn't want to sow trouble between me and Alessio.”

Oriana stepped away from the wall. “So Joaquim is your brother rather than your cousin. What does that change?”

“Nothing, actually,” he admitted. “He was already my legal heir. I put that in my will as soon as I returned here last year. I knew he would take care of my mother, should anything happen to me. I've told him a dozen times that he's welcome to move back into this house, but he's balked. He doesn't want to mention this to his father, and Mother and I don't see any reason anything should change unless he wants it to. I suspect more than anything else, he just . . . wanted to have the truth off his chest.”

“But if he's a seer, why doesn't he predict things like you and Pinheiro do?”

Duilio sighed. “I'm limited because I'm half selkie, but Joaquim is limited because he has the gift of finding. His seer's gift merely serves to reinforce his ability to find things. Or people—which is exactly what the police have had him doing for the last several years. He specializes in finding lost people. When other officers give up on cases, they turn them over to him.”

Oriana shook her head. “But your father wasn't a finder.”

“The gift of finding had to have come from his mother,” he explained.

“Did he not know that? Did she never tell him?”

Duilio shrugged. “She was from Spain. The Church there makes
witches disavow their powers, or they imprison them. Spanish witches ignore their gift, deny it, or leave the country.”

“Should I pretend I don't know?”

“Joaquim knew I would tell you.”

“Ah,” she said. He opened his mouth to ask what had happened with her father, but she quickly turned the conversation back to him. “So when do you visit the infante again?” she asked with false brightness. “Are you going to be able to beat him?”

“Actually, there's something I need to discuss with you first,” he told her. “I didn't want to bring it up in front of Joaquim, so I didn't mention it earlier, but he's asked me to serve him, after his brother passes, of course. I . . .”

“The infante?” She turned away toward the dark window again, laying one long hand on the sill. “Perhaps that's for the best.”

What?
Her resigned tone surprised him more than anything else. “Oriana, I didn't . . .”

She looked back over her shoulder. “I need to go back to the islands, and I don't know how long I'll be gone. Or if I'll be able to return.”

Duilio stared at her, aghast. How could she think he was going to let her walk away again? She'd done so once and nearly died. “And you don't intend to take me with you?”

“Take you with me?” Her brows drew together. “If you're to serve your infante, you can't leave anyway, can you?”

Yes, there it was, the snap of anger in her voice. She was upset. Duilio grabbed her hand to draw her closer. She resisted for a moment, but then gave in, letting him fold one arm about her. She rested her cheek against his shoulder.

“I didn't promise him anything,” he told her, stroking one hand over her tightly coiled hair. “I wouldn't take a step like that without discussing it with you first, and I never expected we would stay here forever. You've told me that's not what you want. I do listen, you know.”

She pulled away, her hands clutching his lapels, which would give his valet fits if the man saw it. “It would be simpler to let me go my own way,” she whispered, not meeting his eyes.

Yes, she's been working up to that all afternoon.
She'd been stewing over whatever her father had said, and had come up with that solution, which wasn't going to work for
him
at all. “Are you going to tell me what your father told you?”

Her face lifted, her eyes meeting his. They glistened with unshed tears. She licked her lips and stepped back. She walked around the sofa to sit there, hands wrapped tightly together. And there was nothing he could do but follow.

*   *   *

O
riana tried to decide what to say. Duilio sat down on her left, close enough that she could feel the warmth of him. He'd refused to make plans without her, yet she'd convinced herself it would be best to go on without him. She'd displayed her lack of faith in him, and now she felt ill. And yet he waited, patient enough to give her the time to sort out her reaction.

Two months ago it wouldn't have occurred to her to want him to hold her. She hadn't known him then, and hadn't had anyone to rely on in so long that she'd forgotten what that was like. It was different now. She had the tantalizing prospect of having him near to support her, to care for her. She'd been certain last night that was what she wanted most, but then she'd learned one fact that had spun all of her newly formed plans out of control. She took a couple of breaths to calm herself, and said, “My father told me why he was exiled. It wasn't what I was told before.”

Duilio regarded her with worried eyes. “You already knew you'd been lied to. Did this surprise you?”

She nodded. “Yes. I'd believed what I was told about him. I'd even visited with his mother and she didn't tell me the truth. They didn't want my life ruined the way his was, so they didn't tell me.”

“Tell you what?” he prompted gently.

“That my mother was murdered. You see . . . if it all comes together the way I think it does, my mother was murdered because she knew something about a woman in the ministry. My father was exiled because he pressed for the ministry to investigate my mother's death.
That
was his crime.”

Duilio licked his lips. “Secrets have a way of consuming lives. Does this have something to do with Maria Melo?”

He'd made that connection quickly. “When she came here to the house, she said my mother didn't know how to play the game.”

“You think she killed your mother,” he said, catching her implication.

“Yes, or it was done to protect her. It has to be her. There's something wrong with her, something my mother noticed.”

It all came spilling out after that, everything her father had told her. He listened, his lips pressed together, until she reached the end of her words. Then he closed his eyes, brow furrowing. He was, she realized, trying to get his gift to tell him the answer. If he could only ask himself the proper question, surely he would
know
.

He opened his eyes and looked at her. “You're right. Eventually you will learn she was responsible.”

At least I'm not crazy.
“If she's planning to assassinate the prince, she's putting my people in danger. I don't know who's protecting her, who's giving her the authority to do these things, but they're acting against the interests of my people.”

“That's why you need to return to the islands, isn't it?”

It was a relief that he understood. “Yes. She might be the one acting, but someone is sanctioning her acts. They gave permission to kill my mother, exile my father, and to execute me. Marina's legally dead, so she can't interfere there. I can't help but wonder if the farce surrounding her supposed death was done in part to assure that.”

“Then again,
you've
been declared dead. You're not allowed to return. What can you do?”

“I don't know, but I'll think of something.”

His hand settled atop hers. “We'll think of something.”

We.
He didn't even question involving himself in a matter that might cost him his life. “Duilio, you wouldn't like it there. Males don't have the same rights. It would be difficult for you. And if I'm expendable, you would be as well. I don't want you to get hurt in all this.”

He shook his head. “That's not going to change my mind, Oriana. If you mean to tackle this hydra, then better you don't do it alone.”

The Ministry of Intelligence was like a hydra, but there was one head of the beast who may still be in this city. “In the morning, I'm going to start looking for Maria Melo. Try to figure out who she is.”

“I'll come with you,” he said.

“No,” she said firmly. “The people I need to speak with won't talk with you around, Duilio. I need to go alone.”

He started to argue, but paused and asked, “Will you take the gun or . . . a knife? I'd worry less.”

“I'll do that.” She'd already decided the little revolver would fit into her handbag.

He took her hands in his own. “And you won't leave the city, not without me.”

“I won't leave the city,” she promised. “Not without you.”

He smiled. “Good. This whole courtship process may not be settled, but you're not going to be rid of me easily.”

Her heart swelled when he said that.

“How long, exactly,” he went on, “does this courtship take?”

“Until both are sure that it's what they want.” But he clearly had no doubts about taking her as his mate. He'd offered to make her his wife, even.
She
was the one dragging her feet. “It's only been two days, Duilio.”

He lifted one of her hands to his lips, then turned it to press a kiss to her palm. “Yes, I'm impatient,” he said, “but I
will
wait.”

Oriana shivered. It still amazed her how he affected her. She raised her hand to his cheek and slid it around to draw him closer. His lips found hers and he surprised her by lifting her onto his lap, but that let her press closer. She felt the heat of his body against hers. She slid her hands inside his dinner jacket, running them down his sides.

She loved the way this felt, this warmth and closeness and that fevered need to press even closer. When she was touching him, all her worries slipped away. She believed this relationship would work and he wouldn't regret this in six months or two years or seven. It was as if the rest of the world and all its tangled webs of social expectations and politics no longer mattered.
Just the two of us.

One of his hands lifted to her cheek again, then slid to touch her tightly braided hair. She could feel his fingers searching for her hairpins, and she laughed against his lips. “Let me do it.”

She raised her arms to unpin her hair. His hands slid up her sides, sending a delicious shiver down her spine. Not content to wait for her to finish, he began kissing one side of her jaw, brushing close to her gill slits. She nearly dropped all the pins.

“Duilinho!” Felis' voice snapped from the doorway, startling both of them.

Duilio let Oriana go and she slid awkwardly from his lap back onto the sofa.

The elderly maid stormed across the room and cuffed Duilio's left ear hard enough that Oriana heard the pop.