His behavior had been strange—too strange to ignore. The look of unutterable horror he had cast upon her, the abruptness of his departure—it left her reeling with a storm of fear and confusion.
Had he gone mad? Was he tormented by some hidden madness? Or worse—had he discovered something about her? Something that twisted his affection into revulsion?
She didn't know. She couldn't know. And the not knowing drove her mad.
For a woman of her passionate temperament, such a mystery was unbearable. She had never loved until Elias. And from the moment she saw him, she was consumed. But her love wasn't gentle, nor pure—it was raw, born of fierce desire and sensual admiration for his beauty. There was nothing holy in her passion, only fire.
It was the kind of love that could drive her to sacrifice everything—or destroy him if she felt betrayed
And now, Elias' sudden flight—his avoidance—tore at her like claws. A hundred suspicions raced through her mind, each more maddening than the last. Her face twisted through a thousand expressions in mere moments, her soul a tempest.
Fury, confusion, wounded pride—each emotion battled for dominance. Her lips quivered, her eyes flashed, her chest rose in shallow gasps. She was a storm in silk and nobility.
Above all, one terrible thought rose: He no longer desires me.
Why else would he flee with such desperation? She mentally replayed every exchange they'd shared in the silent language of fingers—nothing she could recall hinted at offense. So why?
She'd watched him disappear into the distance, toward the Arno, the dying sun reflecting dimly on the river's surface. Even when he was gone, she couldn't stop staring. Darkness gathered around her, but she would not have seen him even in daylight. Her thoughts churned in such frenzy, the real world melted away.
Finally, the shock gave way to action. The fire in her soul would not be stilled. She would not waste another second in tortured guessing.
Storming into her private chambers, she found Lily there and dismissed her with a scowl so sharp, so cruel, that tears sprang to the young girl's eyes.
"Can it be," Lily whispered to herself as she left, "that Lady Antheia suspects Lord Theseus' affection for me? If so… the star of an evil fate has already risen over my life."
The moment the door closed, Antheia locked it. Then, hurrying to her dressing room, she threw off her garments and opened a hidden press by a secret spring. From within, she withdrew the attire of a cavalier—sleek, rich, masculine.
In mere moments, her transformation was complete. Her long hair was coiled beneath a velvet toque adorned with sweeping black plumes. A rapier hung at her side, her cloak—a short mantle trimmed in rare fur—draped elegantly across one shoulder. She was no longer a noblewoman of Lumea. She was a man of mystery.
Exiting through a concealed door behind her bed's curtains, she descended a narrow staircase into the gardens below.
Graceful as a shadow, she moved through the dusk, her figure too elegant to betray its true identity. Anyone watching might have taken her for the most dashing cavalier in the republic.
In less than a quarter hour, she reached the rear of Dr. Orion's residence. She didn't enter the house—instead, she unlocked a small gate leading to the gardens, using a key she kept hidden on her person.
She passed quickly through Orion's garden and crossed into the next—Elias'. Her steps slowed. Cautiously, she approached the windows of the very room where Thalia had once glimpsed a mysterious face in the night.
Darkness. No light within. Her heart sank. It was Elias' favorite room—he would be there, if he were home.
Had he not returned?
She moved around the mansion, its structure like most grand Lumea homes: a palace wrapped in private greenery.
Only one window on the ground floor glowed with lamplight. Antheia crept closer and saw Thalia within, reclining pensively on a divan. That sight twisted Antheia's features with jealous rage. For one lingering second, she stared. Then, with a swirl of her cloak, she vanished into the shadows.
Completing the circuit of the mansion and confirming Elias was truly absent, she returned to Dr. Orion's garden. She had intended to confront Elias tonight, to force an explanation. But he was gone. And the thought of waiting until morning gnawed at her.
Resigned and bitter, she turned toward home.
As she passed the gate of the Convent of the Carmelite Nuns—one of Lumea's wealthiest and most revered monastic institutions—an idea struck her.
Ascending the steps beneath the Gothic arch, she paused beneath the lamplight, pulled out her writing tablets, and scribbled swiftly:
"Lady Antheia of Blackmere requests an audience with Lady Abbess Maria tomorrow at midday, on a matter of grave concern regarding the spiritual welfare of a young female who has shown alarming disregard for the Holy Catholic Church. Severe action is necessary. Lady Antheia will visit the holy mother at noon."
Tearing the page free, she slipped it through a small grating in the door, rang the bell, and disappeared into the night.
She had nearly reached the private entrance to her apartments when she froze.
Two dark figures stood in the shadows ahead.
Alarmed, she slipped silently behind a wall and listened.
One man spoke. "Are you sure about this, Dorian?"
"Oh, yes!" replied the other. "That closet has been sealed for years. The old Lord Aurel kept its keys in a locked, chained chest. What else could be hidden there but treasure?"
"Still just a guess," the other grumbled. "Is it worth risking your neck?"
"Coward," Dorian spat. "That door is iron-bound, the lock massive. They took precautions for a reason."
The second man bristled. "Call me coward again, cousin, and we'll see whose blood paints the garden path."
Dorian raised his hands. "Peace, Lucian! I meant no offense. Only… think of what lies inside. Gold? Jewels? Plate?"
"We could sell either," Lucian said with a rough chuckle.
"So, will you take the job?"
"I will. To prove I'm no coward. When do we strike?"
Dorian leaned closer. "I needed to show you the grounds. I knew you wouldn't turn down the chance. As for timing..."
"Tomorrow's no good. I've a job then—a priest wants his rival eliminated before the election. The Arno will welcome a new soul by sunrise."
Dorian smirked. "Then the night after?"
"Busy again. A countess pawned her diamonds for her lover. She must appear at court Saturday. So we retrieve them Friday night—from a very unlucky Jew."
"Her husband knows nothing?"
"Not a thing."
"Then... Monday night?"
"Perfect."
"Midnight?"
"Done. Now show me the way in."
The two moved off into the darkness.
Antheia, rigid behind the stone, waited until they disappeared around the corner—then darted up the staircase into her chambers, her mind a flurry of new suspicions and fresh urgency.
Tomorrow, she would find Elias. One way or another.