On the Isle of Sound and Wonder (26 page)

Mira had never dreamed her father’s history would be so astonishing. Gonzo told them the tale of the midwife, a woman who came from Algyrs, near Tunitz, but had traveled all across the sea and the great nations to make her living helping women with their births.

“She was dark-skinned,” Gonzo said, “and covered in intricate tattoos, and her eyes were pale blue. Dante had employed her to help the duchess give birth, but had other plans for her as well.

“At first the courtiers whispered that Duke Dante must certainly be having an affair with her, an average dalliance while his wife was abed with her swollen belly. But there were other things, too. Several times, I witnessed the duke levitating objects or burning papers with a flame that appeared from his bare hand. The duke often cheerfully wrote it off as a malfunction of my optical cortex, but it was nothing of the sort. I was certain.”

When Mira was born, and Sophia passed away, Dante got rid of the midwife. No one quite knew how, but Gonzo—whose business was to know many things that he did not divulge freely within the court—had seen her taken from the palace by guards, and it was a safe bet she had been disposed of or sent to a colony as slave labor. Whatever happened to the midwife, Dante began his downward spiral into the beginnings of madness. He remained unseen for days on end, barely eating any meals brought to his chambers, and would not attend council meetings or courtly events.

“At the behest of the king, I attempted to find out what Dante was doing in the workshop, but it was challenging. Dante was adept at making sure his comings and goings went unnoticed. It wasn’t until Torsione, the duke’s brother, broke into the workshop that the truth of the matter was discovered: Dante was exploring black magicks, with a heavy influence on possessing power over life and death.” Mira’s heart pounded, and Ferran frowned deeply.

“But that’s absurd!” he exclaimed. “Insane, even.”

“Yes, indeed. The king was sure that the loss of his wife had driven Dante mad, and banished him to a colony for an indeterminate time. He sent Dante away with servants to keep an eye on him and his young child, along with a great many books unrelated to his dark arts, and some supplies. A week after the ship departed, word reached the king that it had gone down in a storm, a terrible tempest, and all souls had been lost, according to the ship trackers the Royal Aeronauts used.”

“There was a great storm,” Mira recalled, “and the ship did go down, but we were brought safely to shore. I remember my father standing on the beach with his book and his staff, speaking to the winds and the water for hours. I remember waiting what felt like an eternity for him to finish, and the next thing I knew, we had a very comfortable cave filled with books and my father’s little inventions. We had food, supplies, and a hearth. It was quite comfortable. I never asked how it all happened, because I knew he would not tell me.” She looked from Ferran to Gonzo again. “He is protective of his magic.”

“So he is, indeed. We were all quite sure that you had both perished,” finished Gonzo. “If we had been given any indication that you might have survived, there would have been a great search party dispatched. The king loved your father as a brother, long ago.”

Ferran looked utterly exhausted. “It’s so extraordinary,” He shook his head. “This is an impossible coincidence.”

“Now you know,” Gonzo said simply, still looking at Mira. “You must do what you can to keep Prince Ferran safe. Do you understand? If his father has drowned, as it is believed, then he is the heir to the Civitelli line, and must return to Neapolis to ascend the throne. The threats of war from Arthens and abroad will not stop simply because the king is dead. There are innocent lives to protect.”

 From the corner of her eye, she saw Ferran turn to look at her, but Mira did not meet his gaze for several moments. She sat turning it all over in her mind, studying Gonzo’s round brass face and glowing eyes.

“Are you all right?” Ferran’s voice was gentle.

“What happened after he was exiled?” Mira said abruptly. “After he left?”

Gonzo nodded once. “His younger brother, Torsione, was given the dukedom, in addition to his already significant contributions as a courtier, council advisor, and diplomat. Even when they were younger men, Dante was studious, where Torsione was charming. In fact, Torsione was the one who initially thought that Dante’s mourning was beginning to seem unusual, noting that his brother kept peculiar hours and did not take care of his duties as duke. When Dante heard that Torsione was informing the king of his movements and strange studies, Dante challenged him, but the king would not allow it. That was the beginning of the decision to exile him.”

Ferran shook his head. “It’s all so terrible,” he said. “I can’t believe it.”

Mira exhaled slowly. “I think I can.”

“Is he really like that?”

“Yes.” Mira’s jaw tightened. “He’s cold. He cares only for himself. I keep well out of his way, now that I’m older.”

“But what about when you were younger? He must have taken care of you then?”

Mira paused, thinking back. “No . . . It’s so strange. I don’t exactly remember, except that it feels as though he had help of some kind.”

“Like a nanny? A governess? Perhaps one of the servants survived.”

“There are no signs that anyone else was with us.” Mira’s gaze grew cloudy. “But the point is, he doesn’t love anything. Least of all, me. He must have loved my mother very much, to have her death twist his mind so completely, but now, there’s nothing left of that.”

“Child, you must understand,” Gonzo said gently. “You were never intended to be raised unassisted on a desert island. Your ship was headed for a colony, one with a great deal of people and some comforts of home. No, this shipwreck was not meant to take place. Had your father been sentenced to death, they would not have sent you, too. You would have had a home, at court.”

“I am not a child,” said Mira, her words hard. Then she stood up. “We shouldn’t just sit around here.” She gestured at Gonzo. “We can hide you, but if we’re to try and fix your legs, we’ll need more tools. I will go back for the other trunks, and in the morning, I will dive again and see what’s left on the bottom.” She looked at Ferran for the first time, noting the strange mixture of pity, apology, and confusion on his face. “What?”

“This must be so difficult . . . shouldn’t you probably take some time to think this over?” Ferran looked away politely. “We can go get the rest of the tools and trunks tomorrow, if you’d like. I’m so sorry.”

Mira studied him, squeezing the carved spear in her hand, then lifted her chin. “I don’t know what you think of me,” she replied levelly, “but I don’t need time to think this over. I’m very capable of taking care of myself. And now I have to take care of both of you, too.” She felt her chest tighten in a way she wasn’t used to. “Stay here,” she added curtly, and started walking back toward the beach and the copse of trees where they’d left the other luggage. She was out of sight before either Gonzo or Ferran could say anything in reply.

My father grew cruel and cold because my mother died . . . that night with Karaburan—he acted as though he’d barely even noticed what was really going on
.

Mira didn’t realize she was holding her breath until she was several strides beyond the clearing. She exhaled too quickly, feeling dizziness rush to her head, and her vision blurred. On the one hand, it didn’t seem so bad—at least her father had a reason for his passion.

None of this would have happened if my mother had lived.

Tears stung her eyes as she tried to catch her breath, but she did not slow down, the carved spear tight in one hand as she moved rapidly through the trees. Her determined strides slowed by and by, and she felt a sob bubble up in her chest. She paused, feeling very small, blinking her way through the tears. She drew a deeper breath, smelling the cool air coming up from the beach ahead of her. The shadows lengthened as the evening wore on. Once it got dark, she would have to return to the treehouse and keep an eye on Ferran and Gonzo.
I have to keep them safe.

Why? Why should I care?
she pondered.
Because they need me to survive. Well, perhaps not Gonzo. He’s metal. But Ferran can’t live without my help, not here . . . and if my father finds him, it will all be over. I’m risking my neck for them now. We’ll all be in danger if he finds out about them. They need me to survive, and if I don’t help them, I’ll never see another human being as long as I live.

The trees and shrubs grew thinner along the path as she emerged onto the higher dunes overlooking the shore, the sky beginning to turn brilliant shades of coral against the darkening blue. Mira made her way toward the clearing where they’d left the trunks, but as they came into view, she stopped short and dropped into a defensive crouch.

A huge tiger stood on the sand, her large head lowered to sniff warily at the leather trunks, long tail flicking from side to side occasionally.

The tiger!
she thought, her pulse racing.
Karaburan was right all along!

The beast was massive, her pelt a rich orange with thick, inky black stripes all over and perfect white spots behind each dark ear. Mira rose cautiously to one knee.

She watched, her heart pounding in her chest, as the tiger pawed gently at the trunks, sniffing at them halfheartedly, each movement as smooth and heavy as the ocean’s tide. Then the tiger turned and looked right at her, as though she had known Mira was there all along.

The tiger’s eyes were a shocking, but somehow familiar, pale blue.

Mira felt her breath catch as she stared back at the huge cat, frozen to the spot. She could almost certainly not outrun the tiger, and she was not strong enough to take her on if she were to pounce at her. She was, for the first time in perhaps a very long time, utterly at a loss for what to do next.

The tiger looked at her, her whiskers twitching as she caught Mira’s scent on the air. Beyond the dunes, the waves crashed against the shoreline, and farther off, the birds gave their dying cries of evening over the sea. The weight of the tiger’s stare bore down on her. Mira felt a tremor build in her left arm, as she forced herself to stillness.

Suddenly, the tiger broke her gaze and looked away, as though she had heard someone calling her name. Then she looked back at Mira and took several heavy, graceful steps toward her over the warm sand, stopping just out of reach.

Mira had encountered larger fish and dolphins briefly before on her swims, as well as the occasional shark. But this was by far the largest predator she’d been within range of in her entire life.

She doesn’t seem interested in attacking,
Mira thought in surprise.
If we’d met when I was still a child, though . . . there’s no telling.

The tiger flicked her tail idly and turned in a lazy circle, as though she would lie down. As she turned, Mira saw something strange in the thick striped fur. For a moment, the black stripes changed shapes, shifting and morphing as she watched. A definite pattern of shapes almost like glyphs or runes materialized, but when the tiger stopped turning, the stripes were nothing but stripes once more.

What was that?
she thought, unsure of whether she could trust her sight.
I shouldn’t leave Ferran alone too long,
she realized, wondering how long this stalemate had gone on, and how long it might continue.
If my father catches him . . .

As if on cue, the tiger gave a huge, lazy yawn, showing off massive teeth and a wide pink tongue. Then she licked her whiskers and padded away as disinterestedly as though Mira had not been standing there all along.

Her heart thumped in her chest, but as soon as the tiger was out of range, Mira rushed forward and gathered the first two trunks. She made her way back up into the forest, her hands trembling from her giddy thoughts.

The look on Ferran’s face when I tell him there’s a tiger! I bet he’s never seen one, either. She was so beautiful . . .

Mira’s head snapped up as a cry of alarm rang out ahead of her in the trees. She dropped the luggage and bolted forward, spear at the ready. As she neared the treehouse, she slowed, ducking off to the side of the thin trail and peering through large ferns.

Ferran lay on the ground, groaning.

Her father loomed over him.

“Please,” Ferran said, his voice clear despite his obvious discomfort. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Sins of the father, sins of the flesh,” said Dante, holding the magic staff in his right hand as regally as any king. “Don’t worry yourself too much about what you have or haven’t done, my boy. It won’t matter much longer.”

“Please, stop, I mean no harm to you, sir!” Ferran pleaded. “I washed up ashore and have been looking for food and water all day . . . I didn’t know anyone lived here until I found this,” he lied, gesturing to the treehouse.

“A handsome little liar,” Dante mused coldly. He advanced on Ferran, even as the boy scrambled backward in the dirt.

“Please, I have nothing! I have lost everyone. My father and uncle drowned in the shipwreck!”

Dante smiled then, and Mira shuddered. “Don’t be so pessimistic, boy,” Dante advised with a dry, reedy chuckle. “You haven’t lost everything yet. Your father’s still alive. For now.”

Ferran’s face went white. Mira took it as a cue and leaped into the clearing, spear pointed at her father.

“Stop this!” Mira commanded. Dante turned lazily over his shoulder.

“Daughter, you will stay out of this,” he said calmly.

“No, I will not,” she retorted, grinding her teeth at his tone. Rage began to fill the pit of her stomach.
After all this time, after all that’s happened, he’s to blame.
“Let him go.”

“Why on earth do you care, you ungrateful child?” Dante asked, suddenly interested, turning away from Ferran completely to face her, his ragged cloak swirling like clouds in his wake. He laughed coldly at her. “You’ve only just met him, haven’t you?”

“The first human I’ve ever met that wasn’t insane or a rapist?” Mira’s voice echoed back at her from the trees as she raised her volume. “Trust me. I care.” Her eyes narrowed. “Let him go.”