The Underworld.
Black shapes swim through the depths. Through the darkness, I finally see a set of stairs that I instinctively know leads back to the hallway. Back to the living world. I try to swim toward the stairs, but they never seem to get any closer.
Adelina.
When I look over my shoulder, a shape materializes out of the blackness. It is a monstrous form, with long, bony fingers and milky, sightless eyes. Her mouth is open in a snarl. The fear in my heart turns to terror.
Caldora. The angel of Fury.
I struggle toward the stairs, but it is no use. Hissing fills my ears. When I look behind me again, Caldora’s hands reach for me, fingers curled into claws.
I jolt awake at the ominous blare of a horn from above deck. Sunlight streams in from our porthole. The storm has passed, although the waters are still choppy. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and try to still my pounding heart. The whispers are stirring, but their voices are muted, and after a few seconds, they fade away entirely. My fingers shake as they run along the fabric of my pillow. This feels real. I hope it is. A part of me yearns to go back to the Fortunata Court, to throw my arms around Enzo and will him back to life—but another part of me is afraid to blink, lest I return to the Underworld’s waters. Even glancing out the window sends a ripple of fear through me—the water is a dark, opaque blue, eager to swallow a ship.
I look to Violetta’s bed. She’s not there.
“Violetta?” I jump to my feet and hurry to the door. I make my way through the dark, cramped passageway of the ship’s belly. My sister. She’s gone. My nightmare comes back to me—the scorched, endless hall—and suddenly I’m terrified I’m still lost inside it. But then I reach the ladder leading to the deck, and I climb it gratefully.
When I peek over the top of the ladder, I see Violetta at the bow of the ship, leaning over the rails and talking in a low voice to Sergio. My limbs turn weak with exhaustion. I take a deep breath, calm myself, and pull myself up onto the deck. Several other crewmembers give me long looks as I pass by. I wonder which of them are also mercenaries, and whether Sergio has told any of them about our conversation from yesterday.
As I draw near, Sergio puts a hand on Violetta’s arm. He laughs at something she says. A feeling of jealousy runs through me. It’s not that I want Sergio’s attention—but rather that he is attracting Violetta’s. She is my sister.
“What was the horn for?” I ask. I purposely push between them, forcing Sergio to take his hand off my sister and assume a more distant stance. Violetta shoots me a sullen look. I blink innocently back at her.
Sergio points toward the outline of land on the horizon, still faint through the morning mist. “We’re nearing the city of Campagnia. Have you been there before?” When I shake my head, he continues, “It’s the closest port city to Estenzia. My guess is that we’re not going to be greeted with open arms in the capital. It’d be impossible to dock.”
Violetta nods in agreement. “Adelina’s illusions are good,” she says, “but she can’t protect all of us forever from the number of Inquisitors in that city.”
Estenzia. Somehow, it feels as if we left the capital a lifetime ago.
Sergio just shrugs it off as we watch the outline of a city gradually appear on the shore. “We’ll dock in Campagnia soon,” he reassures us. “They haven’t passed any mandates outside of the capital that I know of. It’ll be safer.”
I nod. Sergio falls back into a conversation with Violetta. As they talk, I look around the deck. “Where’s Magiano?” I ask.
Sergio’s eyes roll skyward. “In the crow’s nest,” he replies, pointing up. “Gambling away his life’s work.”
On cue, a perfect imitation of a crow’s caw sounds out. We all glance up to see Magiano above us, leaning so far forward that I’m afraid he’ll topple right out. He’s shouting something at the other sailor in the nest.
“I’ll make that twenty gold talents, then,” he calls out, leaning back into the nest and out of sight.
“Is he … winning?” Violetta asks, squinting up at the sky. We look on as Magiano mutters a train of words to himself. A half-mad thief and a rejected Dagger—I’m certainly off to a good start in building my Elite society.
Sergio shrugs. “Does it matter? If he loses, he’ll just steal the poor bastard’s winnings, anyway.”
Suddenly, the sailor Magiano is playing hops up to his feet. He points out at the water. Magiano cranes his neck toward land too, then shouts something down to Sergio that I can’t make out.