that?”
“Wake the dragon?” Carlos laughed shortly. “Not after the way she treated you la st night.”
It had been a terrible display of temper on Lady Amaral’s part. Oriana didn’t want to relive it again. “There was a coach at the end of the alley,” she told Carlos. “We thought it was Mr. Efisio’s.
They
took us. They drugged us and threw me into the river, but Isabel . . .” She shrugged, not wanting to lie outright.
Carlos nodded, his lips pursed. “I’ll be changing my bets, then.”
What did he mean by that? “Bets?”
“On whether they’ll get married or not,” Carlos clarified, brushing a croissant crumb off his black sleeve with white-gloved fingers.
Oriana felt a flare of anger. Carlos didn’t care about Isabel—or her. He ju st wanted to make certain he didn’t lose money on a bet.
“You can’t st ay here,” Carlos added, glancing pointedly down at the two bags near her feet. “Arenas will find you for sure. Do you have somewhere to go?”
There were places she
could
go, but Oriana didn’t know if she’d be welcome in any of them. She could go to her ma st er, Heriberto, but if she went to see him, he might order her back to the islands and she wouldn’t be able to pursue Isabel’s murderer. She could try one of the sereia who lived here in the Golden City, the exiles, but as they’d been banished by the very government she represented, they had no reason to help her. She doubted any of them would, not even her father. In any case, conta ct with the exiles was st ri ct ly forbidden by the mini st ry.
She raised her chin. “I’ll think of something,” she told Carlos.
He fished a slip of paper out of a pocket and passed it to her. “My grandmother’s si st er rents rooms. Tell her you know me, and she’ll give you a good rate.”
The paper had an address on it, one down near the river. It wasn’t a good neighborhood, but she couldn’t afford a good neighborhood, not with what little she had st ashed in her portmanteau. Oriana looked back up at Carlos. He was watching her, but had one eye on the house’s back door, she could tell. “Thank you, Carlos.”
His eyes focused on her, one corner of his lips twi st ing up into a smirk. “And if you can’t pay, I’m sure we can work something out.”
I should have known Carlos wasn’t a
ct
ing out of kindness
. A paid companion was considered
above
the household servants, but given her current circum st ances, the footman might well think a dalliance with her within his reach now. She’d had some of Isabel’s suitors try their hand at seducing her before. It had been an easy matter to frown at them and shake her head, but she’d been under Isabel’s prote ct ion then. Now she had no one to guard her again st unwanted advances. Still, while she might not like Carlos, she needed a place to st ay, a place where they wouldn’t ask too many que st ions about a woman showing up in her bedraggled condition. She forced herself to smile at him. “We’ll see.”
Carlos spotted the butler come out looking for him then. He winked at her and jogged up the st eps toward the back of the house, nose in the air as he went.
Oriana leaned back again st the st airwell wall and covered her face with her hands.
Why do things keep getting worse?
• • •
D uilio’s mother sat alone at the breakfa st table. He st opped at the threshold and gazed at her, worried. She looked completely human and had human manners. She had excellent ta st e in clothing, always comported herself in a manner befitting a Portuguese lady, and had elegantly decorated the Ferreira home, managing to work in the occasional garish item brought back by her seafaring husband. None of the social set who knew her would have any reason to guess that she was a selkie.
At the moment, she st ared toward the dining room’s we st -facing window, her hands cupped in her lap. She absently rubbed the tips of her fingers with her other hand as if they
“Wake the dragon?” Carlos laughed shortly. “Not after the way she treated you la st night.”
It had been a terrible display of temper on Lady Amaral’s part. Oriana didn’t want to relive it again. “There was a coach at the end of the alley,” she told Carlos. “We thought it was Mr. Efisio’s.
They
took us. They drugged us and threw me into the river, but Isabel . . .” She shrugged, not wanting to lie outright.
Carlos nodded, his lips pursed. “I’ll be changing my bets, then.”
What did he mean by that? “Bets?”
“On whether they’ll get married or not,” Carlos clarified, brushing a croissant crumb off his black sleeve with white-gloved fingers.
Oriana felt a flare of anger. Carlos didn’t care about Isabel—or her. He ju st wanted to make certain he didn’t lose money on a bet.
“You can’t st ay here,” Carlos added, glancing pointedly down at the two bags near her feet. “Arenas will find you for sure. Do you have somewhere to go?”
There were places she
could
go, but Oriana didn’t know if she’d be welcome in any of them. She could go to her ma st er, Heriberto, but if she went to see him, he might order her back to the islands and she wouldn’t be able to pursue Isabel’s murderer. She could try one of the sereia who lived here in the Golden City, the exiles, but as they’d been banished by the very government she represented, they had no reason to help her. She doubted any of them would, not even her father. In any case, conta ct with the exiles was st ri ct ly forbidden by the mini st ry.
She raised her chin. “I’ll think of something,” she told Carlos.
He fished a slip of paper out of a pocket and passed it to her. “My grandmother’s si st er rents rooms. Tell her you know me, and she’ll give you a good rate.”
The paper had an address on it, one down near the river. It wasn’t a good neighborhood, but she couldn’t afford a good neighborhood, not with what little she had st ashed in her portmanteau. Oriana looked back up at Carlos. He was watching her, but had one eye on the house’s back door, she could tell. “Thank you, Carlos.”
His eyes focused on her, one corner of his lips twi st ing up into a smirk. “And if you can’t pay, I’m sure we can work something out.”
I should have known Carlos wasn’t a
ct
ing out of kindness
. A paid companion was considered
above
the household servants, but given her current circum st ances, the footman might well think a dalliance with her within his reach now. She’d had some of Isabel’s suitors try their hand at seducing her before. It had been an easy matter to frown at them and shake her head, but she’d been under Isabel’s prote ct ion then. Now she had no one to guard her again st unwanted advances. Still, while she might not like Carlos, she needed a place to st ay, a place where they wouldn’t ask too many que st ions about a woman showing up in her bedraggled condition. She forced herself to smile at him. “We’ll see.”
Carlos spotted the butler come out looking for him then. He winked at her and jogged up the st eps toward the back of the house, nose in the air as he went.
Oriana leaned back again st the st airwell wall and covered her face with her hands.
Why do things keep getting worse?
• • •
D uilio’s mother sat alone at the breakfa st table. He st opped at the threshold and gazed at her, worried. She looked completely human and had human manners. She had excellent ta st e in clothing, always comported herself in a manner befitting a Portuguese lady, and had elegantly decorated the Ferreira home, managing to work in the occasional garish item brought back by her seafaring husband. None of the social set who knew her would have any reason to guess that she was a selkie.
At the moment, she st ared toward the dining room’s we st -facing window, her hands cupped in her lap. She absently rubbed the tips of her fingers with her other hand as if they
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