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“Because I wasn’t sure who was listening. What did Modred say?”

“That it’s a speculum. Both of them are. That Ordeño probably made one for you, since you’re supposed to take his place as Prime Solium.”

Lucian blinked. “Is that what the vampires think?”

“That’s what Modred thinks.”

“I have no intention of taking Luiz’s seat. I don’t want that kind of responsibility. If anyone’s going to get the seat, it’ll be Deonara.”

“I don’t care about Deonara. We’re talking about you.”

“What about me?”

I wasn’t going to let him start with the circular questions again. “Don’t be coy. It’s not cute anymore, and you know it.”

He sighed. “Fine.”

“You’re not present anymore, Lucian. You’re in another world most of the time. You refuse to engage, and you don’t want to answer any questions.”

“Is this about us, or about the Ordeño case?”

“Both. We’re in both of those places. We don’t get to come home each night and pretend that we have regular jobs.”

He shrugged. “I don’t have a job, Tess. I mean, not in the strictest sense. I have certain obligations to different communities, but I’m not going to work from nine to five and collecting a paycheck for it.”

I scowled at him. “I don’t know what sucks worse. The tone you use when you talk about me ‘collecting a paycheck, ’ or the fact that you actually believe I only work eight hours a day.”

“I don’t think either of those—” He shook his head.

“No. I’m not doing this. I’m not getting sucked in.”

“Oh, by all means, don’t get sucked into anything. Don’t bother yourself with it. The smartest choice is to just deflect everything.”

“Did you learn that in therapy?”

I stared at him. “How did you know I was in therapy?”

“I guessed. Now it’s confirmed.”

“You guessed? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Right. You don’t think I’m some lonely crackpot who can’t deal with her stress, so she needs some therapist to tell her everything’s going to be fine.”

“No. I don’t think that at all.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Well, you don’t know me, then.”

I folded my arms. “No. I don’t know you, Lucian. I met you more than two years ago, and last year we started having sex. But I don’t really know anything about you. And that’s not my fault.”

“So it’s my fault?” He was actually getting angry. I felt weirdly vindicated.

“Kind of. I mean, I’m not exactly the greatest girlfriend. Maybe there’s things I’m supposed to be doing. To be honest, this is the first real relationship I’ve had since I was a teenager, when I stopped believing in relationships.”

“Is that what we’re having? A relationship?”

Really? We were going in this direction now?

“Well, what would you call it, Lucian?” I turned on the washer, and its low, dry hum filled my ears.

“Be precise.”

“We’ve got something complicated.”

“Define ‘complicated.’”

“I’m not sure I want to.”

“Of course. You don’t want to do anything. Why would you? It’s so much easier to just sit on the fence and jerk off, watching your future fly by.”

“That’s kind of an upsetting image.”

“Lucian!” My face was red. I wanted to cry or decapitate something. Maybe both. “What do you want? Just tell me. Precisely.”

He gave me a funny look. I remembered that look from a dream I’d had about him two years ago.

He was stripped to the waist, and the lily tattoo on his shoulder blade looked like it was made of glass, or transparent fire.

“I’m in love with you.”

I blinked. I didn’t say anything. My tongue was made of cotton.

He took a step toward me. “Tess.”

“You’re bullshitting me.”

He frowned. “Why would you say that?”

“Because it’s ridiculous. Why would you love me?”

Now he looked confused. “I don’t understand the question.”

“Come on, Lucian. You’re you. I’m me.”

“Are we back to grammar?” He smiled and put his hands on my shoulders again. “Yes, you’re you, I’m me. We’re us. And I like us.”

“Don’t be cute.”

“What do you want me to say?” One hand moved up my neck. His touch was always light. “Te amo. I love you, Tessa. You make me happy.”

“But—” I wanted to scream in frustration. But his hand on my neck was also making me excited.

No. Focus. You are in control of this conversation. “Where have you been lately? If you love me so much, why do you act like you don’t care?”

“Because caring freaks me out. It’s dangerous. I could lose you, and I don’t want to. Just thinking about it makes me terrified.”

“What’s happening to me? Where am I going?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Actually, I don’t. Are you worried that I’ll leave you, or that I’ll get killed because of you?”

“Both.”

“The probability of those things happening simultaneously is pretty low. Unless the roof falls on me while I’m breaking up with you.”

His hand was moving down my neck. I was losing focus. Shit.

“I’m afraid of everything,” he said. “That you’ll break up with me. That you’ll die. That I’ll put you in danger.”

“I shot you in the chest last year. Who’s putting who in danger?”

“You did what I told you. And I knew I’d come back.”

“You said you weren’t sure.”

“I was. I always do.”

I looked at his eyes. They were exactly the color of brown eyes. I was starting to feel warmer. Everywhere. This did not bode well for argumentation.

“Are you immortal?” I asked him.

“Kind of.”

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t know. Can you explain materia?”

“Yes. I had to study a textbook on it.”

“But do you believe everything you read?”

“No. Especially not the footnotes.”

He held his left hand a few inches away from my face. His right hand was still touching my neck. I felt a surge of power. A lily appeared, hovering above his palm. The petals were liquid glass, and at the core of the flower there was a mineral structure, humming with light. The flower revolved slowly before my eyes.

“Does this mean that you’re a flower?” I teased.

“Sort of.” He smiled. “It means that I’m different. My cells are more plantlike than human. That’s what allows me to regenerate.”

I just stared at him.

“Say something.”

I reached my fingers through the image of the flower. It trembled and vanished, leaving a faint impression of smoke behind. I touched his face.

“So you’re a plant.”

“That’s a simplified explanation. But sort of. Yes.”

“Wow.”

“Does that freak you out?”

I smiled. “Not at all.”

I kissed him. His lips were dry, but he responded immediately. His tongue flicked the edge of my mouth. I put my hand on the back of his neck. I loved the soft hairs there. Sometimes I dreamt about them.

“Take me to Trinovantum,” I said.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“Tess. It’s not that simple.”

“It is.” I kept my hand on his neck. “I know that Braxton tried to kill me. He probably tried to kill Ordeño, too, so that he wouldn’t be able to complete the treaty. But I can’t put all of the pieces together until I visit the hidden city. I think that’s where the murder weapon came from. And it’s where Ordeño was trying to escape to, just before he was killed. That’s why we found him underneath Las Meninas.”

Lucian stared at me for a long moment, considering this. “What do you propose to do once you get there?”

“Get me an audience with Lord Nightingale. All I want to do is talk to him. He’s the wild card in all of this.”

“That won’t be easy.”

“But I know you can do it.”

His face was close to mine. His breath smelled like dulce de leche. “Did they teach you this in your interrogation classes?”

“Maybe.”

I reversed our positions, so that he was standing in front of the washing machine. I pressed him lightly against it. He gave me a questioning look.

“Really?”

I stared at him. “Really.”

Instead of arguing, he pulled off his shirt.

“Sit on top of the machine.”

“Is this some private fantasy of yours?”

“Yes.”

He pulled himself on top of the washer. “It’s a good one.”

“I don’t need you to talk anymore.”

Lucian grinned and smiled, but didn’t reply. That was one of the things that I loved about him. Such a good listener.

I undid his belt and pulled down his jeans. He was wearing blue underwear that I didn’t recognize, but they had the right effect. I slid them down. He was already half-hard. I rubbed his legs, and I could feel the muscles twitching slightly beneath my touch. He was shivering.

I took him in my mouth. He groaned and put his fingers in my hair. Everything vanished into heat and momentum. I felt his feet knocking slightly against the washing machine. I jerked him off with my right hand, while letting my left linger on his legs, just brushing them lightly.

I was thinking of cold water and the color orange. I don’t know why. For a second, I imagined that his whole body was a liquid with something gold and luminous at its core, like a perfect weapon.

He started breathing quicker, and his muscles tightened. I took it out of my mouth, but kept moving my hand.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “Don’t. I’m going to come.”

“Then come.”

“I don’t want to.” His eyes were clenched shut. “What about you?”

“Who said we’re finished when you come?” I kept moving my hand. “We’ve got thirty minutes left in the spin cycle. That’s enough time to deal with me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Lucian.” I pressed my mouth against his. “¡Cállate!”

His knees buckled. I kissed him harder. He said something with his tongue still in my mouth, but I couldn’t understand him.

I wasn’t listening anyway.

16

We stood in front of the Picasso. I took a deep breath.

“Ready? This could get a bit hairy.”

“I think so. What’s it like to travel by speculum?”

“You’re about to find out.”

“Okay.” I closed my eyes. “Now what?”

“Just take my hand and step forward.”

“Does the magic require physical contact?”

“No. I just like holding your hand.”

I smiled. Then I felt his fingers in mine.

We stepped forward.

I felt nothing. Then a blow to the back of the head. Then cold.

I opened my eyes, shaking the dizziness off.

It was night. We were standing at an iron gate. I had no idea how we’d gotten there. I had felt a pinching sensation, then nothing, and now: an iron gate.

At first I thought it was overgrown with vines, but as I looked at them more closely, I realized they were packed too densely to be weeds. They were actually different plants growing on trellises. One had silver-edged leaves, like chervil. Another had pendulous flowers that were wine-colored. It resembled hanging fuchsia but probably wasn’t.

“Are we in Trinovantum?” I asked.

Lucian stood beside me. “This is the entrance to the Conclusus.”

“What exactly is that?”

“The garden that encloses Trinovantum.”

I looked at the sky, which was alive with stars. “Did we go through some kind of temporal shift?”

“It’s always night here.”

“How do the plants survive? Even night-flowering plants require sunlight.”

“These don’t. They’ve been grafted and bred for centuries. They’re all adapted strains of nocturnal fauna.”

“Oh.” I could see what looked like colored lights dancing past the gate. “Are those lamps?”

“Sort of.” Lucian placed his hand on the gates. They opened silently, revealing an even stone path.

“Follow me. Stay close, and don’t touch anything.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

He gave me a look. “I’m serious. You aren’t supposed to be here, and you can’t stay here for too long. Don’t touch anything, and especially don’t eat anything.”

“Is it like a Persephone thing?”

“You don’t want to find out.” He stepped through the gate. “Let’s go.”

“Is it dangerous?”

“Of course. Gardens always are.”

The path was shaded by trees. After a short space, it divided into a crossroads. A stone basin had been placed at the center of the junction. Flame burned inside of the basin, coming from the stone itself. That was a tough trick. The flame cast no heat, and had a slightly violet cast to it.

We turned to the left, and some of the trees gave way to stone enclosures. Night flora bloomed within them: trumpet-shaped moonflowers, which clung to sculpted iron trellises; evening primrose with wan pink petals; evening iris the color of sherry; and vesper iris, magenta with white spots, which I recognized from my mother’s garden. The iris blooms were surrounded by light green leaves that exuded a sweet, familiar smell. I realized that they were nicotine plants. Instantly, my fingers reached for a cigarette that wasn’t there. I’d left my emergency pack on the kitchen counter.

I pointed to a vivid white flower edged with purple. “What’s that?”

“Datura. It’s quite poisonous. The leaves are sometimes called thorn apple, or Devil’s apple, and they contain a neurotoxin.”

“I can see why you didn’t want me to touch anything.”

“Only about half the plants here are poisonous. I think.”

I spotted white gaura and yucca flowers as well, the former resembling a spray of icicles, the latter so thickly clustered they looked more like coral, or bone.

The trees began to thicken again as we continued.

A small shadow crossed my feet. I looked down, and was surprised to see a black-and-white cat sitting at my feet. The cat regarded me with bright eyes the color of spearmint. Two other cats, one entirely black, the other calico, sat a few feet away from the first one. All of them appeared to be watching us.

“What’s with the cats?” I whispered.

Lucian smiled. “Don’t worry. They’re harmless. We have a lot of them here.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “It’s one of the places they go whenever you can’t find them. Cats can move between worlds fairly easily.”

“And they come here?”

“Often. Probably because of all the birds.”