Map of Fates (The Conspiracy of Us 2)

“I know.”

I took a deep breath, and felt Jack’s chest expand with one of his own. Finally, I pulled away and smoothed my hair back from my face. “We should go.”

Jack’s hair was wild, his shirt askew. I saw his arm move, almost reach for my hand. Stop. Notice me notice the hesitation. Both of us frozen, waiting for the other to make a move. To acknowledge that the worse everything got, the more difficult it became not to have each other to fall back on.

“I—” Jack said. He stuffed both hands into his pockets.

I nodded, smoothed my skirt, and we ran out of the narrow alley without a word.

• • •

The fog that had settled since dinner made it impossible to see more than ten feet in any direction, but it seemed to amplify sounds echoing off the narrow alleys that served as streets for anyone not moving around by boat. I flinched at every slamming door or boat motor, and glanced over my shoulder at every set of footsteps.

Jack walked quietly beside me, lost in his own thoughts. I wondered suddenly what would happen if—when—I did get my mom back. If I stayed with the Circle, I might not have to be married off, but unless I had enough power to change the rules, Jack and I would never work, anyway. Maybe we’d leave, but then I’d be abandoning the family I’d just met, and he’d be leaving the only family he’d ever had. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

The only certainty was that we had to find this bracelet.

• • •

Finally, after ten minutes of weaving quietly through the maze, a glimmer of light shone up ahead and the alley opened up onto a wide square. “Oh,” I breathed. Despite everything, the square ahead looked like magic.

The fog wasn’t as dense here—it must have had more space to dissipate. But the driver had told us earlier today about the acqua alta. “Just be glad it’s not August,” he’d said in broken English. “If the acqua alta comes in August, you can smell Venice from anywhere in Italia.”

Now I saw what he meant.

The Piazza San Marco was underwater. Tourists strolled along wooden walkways that stretched across it, but it looked like they were walking on the water’s surface. The lights from the basilica and the surrounding buildings shimmered in the ripples, creating gleaming pinstripes in the settling dusk. Around the edges of the square, locals went about their business as usual, ducking into stores and sitting at half-submerged cafe tables in knee-high galoshes.

I licked my lips. The air in Venice tasted a little like stagnant ocean and fish, but with an overtone of fresh breeze that made it not unpleasant.

I looked around and got my bearings. We’d emerged at the corner of the piazza nearest the San Marco Basilica, with a small cafe on one side of us and a row of shuttered shops and outdoor bistros on the other. “La Serenissima doesn’t refer to any specific part of Venice, so that doesn’t give us a lot of direction,” I said, “but there’s this conspiracy theory about Alexander the Great’s bones being hidden at San Marco Basilica.” Stellan had found the book I’d asked for from the Dauphins’ library and told me the details.

“Napoleon might have heard that rumor, too. He was really interested in the church. And that over there”—I pointed across the piazza—“is called the Ala Napoleonica. The Napoleonic Wing. Though it seems to have only Venetian history these days, which is why I want to check the basilica first.”

Jack was nodding along. “Sounds like as good an idea as any.”

“Actually,” said a girl’s voice from behind us, in a light French accent, “I’ve got a better idea, but by all means continue to waste more time.”

We both spun around toward the cafe. There, leaning against a column, hundreds of miles away from Paris where she should be, was the Dauphins’ maid, Elodie.

CHAPTER 9

Jack pulled me behind his back, and I reached into my purse for my knife, like it would do much good against the throng of guards the Dauphins had probably sent to bring me back to the cell in their basement.

“Where are they?” I said, looking behind her. “Where are your guards?”

Elodie pushed off the wall, strolling a few feet out to nudge the water’s edge with her boot. The platinum highlights in her blond hair glinted in the dark. “I was beginning to think the earlier unpleasantness kept you inside for the night.”

“Unpleasantness?” I snapped. “Two people died.”

“How did you know we were here?” Jack said.

She rolled her eyes. “Can you really not guess?”

Jack tensed. “I’m going to kill Stellan—”

“He didn’t tell me. I just happened to remember the little threesome thing you all had going on, and what with his extended absences to spy on the Saxons lately, it wasn’t hard to put two and two together. Found the hidden phone he’s been using to communicate with you, and here I am. You know,” she said, glancing appraisingly at the bracelet gleaming on my wrist, “you should really be more careful.”

In a second, Jack was behind her, his gun to her back. “What do you want, Elodie?”

“Jack!” I started, but before I could say any more, Elodie wheeled around and kneed him in the crotch. He stumbled backward.

She retreated a few feet. “Don’t touch me—”

She went quiet when Jack pointed his gun at her again. Luckily, the small cafe we stood at the edge of was empty enough that no one was watching us.

“I didn’t realize things were quite so murderous around here.” Elodie raised her hands to waist-height.

“Did you not notice what happened tonight?” I nearly shrieked, and made myself quiet down. “I don’t care if you are telling the truth. You picked the worst possible time to sneak up on us.”