Map of Fates (The Conspiracy of Us 2)

I glanced over my shoulder, searching Stellan’s fine-boned profile for any hint that he might be lying to me. “Is something going on between you two?”

Stellan regarded a statue of Jesus and the Virgin Mary. “Is that relevant?”

“I don’t know, is it?”

His mouth curved up at the corners. We moved toward the altar.

“You believed her immediately when she said she wasn’t trying to hurt us,” I said. “And maybe she’s not, but I think I have the right to know if it’s more than rational deduction that makes you want to hand her all our secrets.”

Stellan turned from a gilded cross. “Jealous, wifey?”

I bristled. “I’m just saying that you two obviously have a history of . . . something. At least friendship.”

Stellan’s grin grew. “Oh, more than friendship.”

“See!”

“Let me give you a life lesson. Just because two people have a history doesn’t mean they’ve pledged their eternal love and loyalty.” He raised an eyebrow. “Sometimes a hookup is just a hookup.”

“You’ve known each other forever. I don’t believe anything is just anything.”

“I believe Elodie because I’ve known her for that long. Trust me, kuklachka,” he said when I tried to interrupt. “I know what I’m doing. I’m smart enough not to put faith in a girl just because she’s pretty. I still question half of what you tell me, after all.”

I ignored the flirting. At least none of the potential Circle husbands had actually tried to hit on me. On the contrary, they were fairly businesslike about the whole arrangement, unlike Stellan. “I haven’t lied to you. At least not since the time I lied to you. But I didn’t know I could trust you then. I’d like to think I can trust you now.” Yes, it was trust with a healthy side of suspicion, but still.

He bumped my shoulder lightly with his. “If you can’t trust your future husband, who can you trust?” he said in my ear, and dodged my elbow to his ribs.

When it became clear we weren’t going to find anything here, we met back up with Jack and Elodie to do a quick recon of the front of the church together. While we finished looking, I started to interrogate Elodie.

“Before I tell you my thoughts,” she said, “let me make sure I have this straight. You have a bracelet that may lead to the location of Alexander’s tomb. You’re searching for a matching bracelet that would complete that clue. You’re looking for the tomb because the Circle wants the weapon against the Order, obviously, to stop the assassinations and get rid of them for good.”

I nodded.

“And something else?” she prodded, glancing between the three of us.

I scowled. Elodie had been sure I had a thing for Stellan since I first met her. “It’s not anything like that,” I said. “Stellan’s just helping.”

Elodie smirked. “I did not actually think you all were in some kind of three-way relationship, but nice to know that’s the first place your mind goes. I mean, I noticed that you mentioned your mother.”

I met Jack’s eye, and he shrugged. I guess we were telling her everything.

“The Order kidnapped my mom,” I said. “I want her back.” Close enough to the truth.

“And they killed Emerson Fitzpatrick,” Stellan said.

“What?” Elodie stopped dead, and Jack nearly ran into her. “Fitz is dead?”

“The Order killed him,” I repeated.

“How—when?”

“A couple weeks ago. Right after the wedding thing with Luc.”

Elodie started walking again, but she looked shell-shocked.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t know you knew him that well.”

“Neither did I,” Stellan said.

Elodie pushed her hair behind her ears. “I . . . didn’t. I just didn’t realize that had happened.”

Someday I might be able to think about Mr. Emerson beyond a quick mention without this ache that made it hard to think, but today wasn’t that day. I had to change the subject. “And besides all that, I don’t want to be forced to marry somebody to fulfill the mandate when I seriously doubt it’ll work.”

We headed out of the basilica and back into the night air. A silence had fallen over us as heavy as the fog. Our shoes made hollow clunks across the wooden pathways, and I shivered, wrapping my arms around myself. I wished I’d thought to grab a jacket.

Jack came up beside me and, without even asking if I needed it, shrugged out of his and put it around my shoulders.

“Thanks,” I mouthed. The jacket smelled like him—that combination of earthy and warm and a little sweet that brought back memories of things I shouldn’t be thinking about.

Behind us, the San Marco Basilica rose gleaming white against the dark night. Its facade was an endlessly intricate amalgamation of arches and frescoes and soaring pillars, layered like the architects couldn’t decide when to stop, and behind that, domes that reminded me a little of the Hagia Sophia.

Elodie lit a cigarette and flicked a burning bit of ash into the dark water we were walking over. The little orange ember winked out, and she seemed to compose herself. “So I was saying, I’m here because I saw your texts about the clue you found. ‘A union forged in blood.’”

I still couldn’t believe she’d been spying on us for weeks. I nodded.

“I’d already been working on the other clues, trying to see angles you hadn’t. When you got that clue, I thought of something. Do you remember when I told you about the idea of fate mapping, in the biological sense?”

I nodded. We’d talked about it while she was getting me ready for the wedding to Luc. I’d assumed it was her way of cluing me in to the fact that she was helping me escape. “What does it mean again?”