Markos sat with his back to the wall, fingering his sword hilt. He stared ahead with a moody expression, refusing to participate in the conversation.
Kenté snapped her fingers. “I just remembered! I brought something. It’s in the cargo hold.”
Markos watched her scamper up the steps. Lowering his voice, he said, “It still seems like too much of a coincidence to me. Are you certain you trust her?”
“As if she were my own sister,” I said, instantly regretting my choice of words.
He pressed his lips into a white line but said nothing.
Kenté returned, dragging a brocade shoulder bag. She rifled inside it. “Courtesy of the Bollard cellar.” With a flourish, she produced an amber glass bottle. “And now we drink.”
“Oh, well done!” Kenté always had been remarkably good at sneaking drinks. Now I knew why. I grinned, taking the bottle. “Long live the Bollards!”
I divvied out the mugs, carelessly splashing three fingers of rum in each. Fee dipped a long finger into hers, then stuck it in her mouth. Markos was still brooding on the opposite bench. I pushed a mug across the checkered tablecloth at him.
He took a gulp, then coughed. “What is this swill?” he managed, spluttering.
“Rum. The sailor’s drink.”
“I suppose some might call that rum,” he said. “It tastes as if it was distilled in a slimy barrel with an old shoe at the bottom. It’s vile.”
It was, a bit. But I didn’t dare admit I agreed.
“What happens when we get to Casteria?” Kenté asked.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Markos shift, likely bristling at the word “we.” Perhaps I was asking too much of him. It was only over the course of days and several narrow escapes that he’d come to trust me. He didn’t know Kenté like I did.
After a long hesitation, he said, “My family owns an estate in Casteria that my grandfather used to keep for fishing. Since his time, the house has fallen into disuse. My father …” He paused, a tremor in his voice. “My father had no interest in sport. However, we still own the property, which is maintained by a small staff. That’s where my sister, Daria, was sent. The instructions specify that the box shall only be opened by the Emparch or his representative.”
I noticed the way he lingered on his sister’s name. For his sake I desperately hoped she had made it to Casteria—and that, unlike Cleandros, the servants there were trustworthy.
“At least we have some assets.” He ticked them off on his fingers. “Kenté’s magic, Fee’s extraordinary eyesight, my skill with a blade, and Caro’s—well, your knowledge of generally unlawful behavior.”
“Plus three pistols,” I added. “And you’ll have your swords.”
“What do I get?” Kenté asked in a fake wounded tone.
“Shadows.”
She made a face at me and turned to Markos. “What will you do after you rescue your sister?”
“I hadn’t dared to think that far ahead.” He sipped his rum. “It tastes better if you don’t smell it.” He twirled the glass slowly on the table. “It’s my hope that some of my father’s advisers also escaped. They all knew we were to meet in Valonikos in case of … well, in case something like this ever happened.”
“The Free City is lovely,” I told him. “It rises up on a big hill. The houses are whitewashed brick. There are porches with pink flowers spilling over them, and rooftop gardens. And temples with red domes.”
“The Free City,” Markos repeated. “My father hated when people called it that.”
“He would,” I muttered. “Seems to me Valonikos is doing perfectly fine without an Emparch. Did you know their Archon is elected by the people?” Even here in Kynthessa, cities were ruled by Archons appointed by the Margravina. Though the senate made most of the decisions, she still held on to a significant amount of power.
“All very well for them,” Markos sniffed. I hoped he wasn’t about to get all stuffy again. “Akhaia is three hundred times the size of the Free City. It requires the stability that comes from a strong ruling class. If we turned around and handed all that power to the people, like Antidoros Peregrine wants to do, it might have disastrous consequences.”
He was going to get all stuffy. I rolled my eyes. “You sound like you’re reciting from a book. What do you think? Not your tutors. You. Markos.”
“I can think for myself, you know,” he said sourly.
“Oh really?” I teased him.
“A toast to Valolikos, then,” he announced, “just so Caro will cease pestering me about it.” He lifted his glass, finishing off the last of his rum. His eyes crinkled at the edges. “You know, this is the lightest I’ve felt in days. I actually feel like we might make it.”
“That’s because you’re drunk.”
“I’m not drunk.”
“You are too.” Kenté grinned. “You said ‘Valolikos.’ I heard you.”
“I didn’t. Valonikl—Valol—damn.”
We all dissolved into snorts of laughter. “You’re a bad influence on me, you know.” I eyed the half-empty bottle. “The both of you.”
Kenté wiggled her eyebrows, furtively gesturing toward Markos under the table. I elbowed her hard.
“Well, I’m to bed,” she announced, sliding out of the booth. “Come on, Fee. Let’s fix me up a hammock.”
The gods preserve us from meddling cousins.
At once Markos and I leaped to our feet. “I’m just going to—” He grabbed the rum bottle.
“Right,” I mumbled, my cheeks flushing as I bent to gather up the dishes. Kenté tapped one finger on the side of her nose before ducking through the curtain into the next cabin.
Markos watched her go. “You’re different with her.”
It seemed ridiculous that I had never noticed what a strikingly handsome combination blue eyes and black hair were. My heart was going at a frantic pace. I didn’t know where to look.
“She’s my cousin.” I pretended to arrange the dirty dishes.
“My cousin tried to assassinate me, so …” He shrugged.
“Ayah. Your life is kind of a mess, isn’t it?”
“It is. It really is.” He paused. “Caro, I’ve been thinking about what’s going to happen when we get to Casteria.”
I felt ashamed for having been laughing only minutes ago. And for thinking—well, whatever I’d been thinking.
“If …” He took a deep breath. “The shadowman’s magic … it’s only broken when someone opens the box. What if everyone who knows Daria’s in there is dead?” He set his hand on my sleeve, and sparks rocketed through me. “Caro, if something happens to me and I don’t make it, you have to get her out. Promise me.”
“You’re going to make it.”
He wouldn’t let go of my arm. “Promise.”
I didn’t see how I was supposed to make it out alive if he didn’t. We were on the same boat. We’d likely live or die together. “All right, I promise.”
“Listen. In Valonikos there’s a house.” He spoke in a rush. “In Iphis Street. Go to that house and ask for Tychon Hypatos. His family are cousins to us. He’s a very wealthy man. He can help Daria.”
“Markos, stop it,” I whispered. He was talking as if he was already dead.
“You need to know. In case.” His hand curled warm around my arm. “Now. What is his name?”