Hang this, she thought. What a waste of life, to stand around and think so much on every little thing. What did it matter why she wanted to see the captain? She simply did.
And so, casting motive aside, she reached out to knock, only to stop when she heard footsteps from within, coming briskly toward the door.
Her thief’s sense twitched, and her body moved before her mind, boots silently retreating one stride, then two, before sliding smoothly behind the corner of the hallway’s nearest bend. She had no reason to hide, but she’d been doing it so long, the gesture came naturally. Besides, hiding was simply seeing without being seen, and that gave her the upper hand. Nothing to be lost by it, and often something to be gained.
An instant later, the door swung open and Alucard Emery stepped into the hall.
The first thing she noticed was his silence. The captain of the Night Spire normally made a certain amount of noise. His jewelry jangled and his weapons clanked, his steel-heeled boots announced every step, and even when his attire was quiet, Alucard himself usually hummed. Lila had mentioned it once, and he simply said he’d never been a fan of quiet. She’d thought him incapable of it, but as he made his way down the hall, his steps marked only by the gentle creak of the floorboards, she realized that, before, he’d always meant to be loud.
Another aspect of the role he was playing, now cast aside, replaced by … what?
He was fully dressed, but not in his usual clothes. Alucard had always favored fine, flashy things, but now he looked less like a pirate captain and more like an elegant shadow. He’d traded the blue coat he’d worn ashore for a charcoal half cloak, a simple silver scarf at his throat. He wore no obvious weapons and the sapphire was gone from his brow, along with all the rings from his fingers save one, the thick silver band shaped like a feather. His brassy brown hair was combed back beneath a black cap, and Lila’s first thought was that, pared down, he looked younger, almost boyish.
But where was he going? And why was he going in disguise?
Lila trailed him down the stairs of the inn and out into the night, close enough to keep track and far enough away to avoid notice. She might have spent the last four months as a privateer, but she had spent years as a shadow. She knew how to blend into the dark, how to tail a mark, how to breathe and move with the current of the night instead of against it, and Alucard’s steps might have been light, but hers were silent.
She’d expected him to head for the market, overflowing with people, or the web of streets that traced lines of light away from the river. Instead he hugged its banks, following the red glow of the Isle and the main concourse past the palace to a bridge on the far side. It was made of pale stone and accented with copper: copper railings, and copper pillars, and sculpted copper canopies. The whole thing formed a kind of shining tunnel. Lila hesitated at its base—the entire length of the bridge beneath the canopies was well lit, the metal reflecting and magnifying the light, and though people were strewn along it, mostly in pairs and groups, collars turned up against the cold, few actually seemed to be making their way across to the opposite bank. Blending in would be nearly impossible.
A few merchants had set up stalls beneath the lanterns, haloed by mist and candlelight, and Lila hung back to see if Alucard was heading for one of those, but he made his way briskly across, eyes ahead, and Lila was forced to either follow or be left behind. She set off after him, fighting to keep her pace leisurely, ignoring the glittering stalls and the patterned metal ceiling, but not so pointedly as to give away her purpose. It was a wasted effort in the end—Alucard never once looked back.
Walking beneath the copper canopies, she saw that they were dappled to look like trees, starlight shining through the leaves, and Lila thought, once more, what a strange world she’d stumbled into, and how glad she was to be there.
Alucard crossed the entire length of the bridge and descended a grand set of stairs to the southern bank of the Isle. Lila had only been on this side once, when she and Kell took Rhy to the sanctuary, and she’d never given much thought to what else lined this other, darker half of the city. Shops and taverns, she would have guessed, perhaps a shadier version of the northern bank. She would have been wrong. This half of London was quiet by comparison; the sanctuary rose solemnly from a bend in the river, and beyond a boundary of bank-side shops and inns, the city gave way to gardens and orchards and, beyond these, to manor homes.
Lila’s old stomping grounds in Mayfair and Regent Park paled in comparison to this London’s southern bank. Elegant carriages pulled by magnificent steeds dotted street after street of grand estates, high-walled and furnished with marble and glass and gleaming metal. The evening mist itself seemed to glitter with wealth.
Ahead, Alucard had quickened his pace, and Lila picked hers up to match. Far fewer people were on these streets, which made tailing him a good deal harder, but his attention was fixed on the road ahead. As far as Lila could tell, there was nothing to see here. No deals to do. No trouble to get into. Nothing but houses, half the windows dark.
Finally Alucard turned off the road, stepping through an intricate gate and into a courtyard lined with shrubbery and bordered by trees, their branches winter-bare.
When Lila caught up, she saw that the curling metalwork of the gate formed an ornate E. And then she looked inside, and caught her breath. The floor of the courtyard was a mosaic of glittering blue and silver stone. She hovered in the shadow of the gate as Alucard made his way up the walk, and watched as, halfway to the door, he paused to collect himself. He dragged his cap from his head and shoved it into the satchel on his shoulder, tousled his hair, flexed his hands, muttered something she couldn’t hear, and then picked up again, his stride calm and confident as he hopped up a short set of steps, then rang a bell.
A moment later, one of the two front doors swung open, and a steward appeared. On seeing Alucard, he bowed. “Lord Emery,” he said, stepping aside. “Welcome home.”
Lila stared in disbelief.
Alucard wasn’t visiting the master of the house.
He was the master of the house.
Before he could step inside, a girl appeared in the doorway, squealed with delight, and threw her arms around his neck.
“Luc!” she cried as he swung her into the air. The girl couldn’t be more than twelve or thirteen, and she had his wavy brown curls and dark eyes.
“Anisa.” He broke into a smile Lila had never seen before, not on him. It wasn’t the proud grin of a captain or the mischievous smirk of a rake, but the absolute adoration of an older brother. She’d never had any siblings, so she didn’t understand the look, but she recognized the simple, blind love, and it twisted something in her.
And then, as suddenly as the girl had launched herself forward, she pulled away, affecting the mock frown Lila had seen on Alucard’s own mouth so many times.
“Where is Esa?” demanded the girl, and Lila tensed, not at the question itself, but the fact she’d asked it in English. No one spoke that tongue in Red London, not unless they were trying to impress the royalty. Or they were royalty.
Alucard chuckled. “Of course,” he said, crossing the threshold. “Three years away from home, and your first question is about the cat….” They disappeared inside, and Lila found herself staring at the front door as it closed.
Alucard Emery, captain of the Night Spire, tournament magician, and … Red London royal? Did anyone know? Did everyone know? Lila knew she should be surprised, but she wasn’t. She’d known from the moment she met Alucard aboard the Night Spire that he was playing a part; it was just a matter of uncovering the man behind it. Now she knew the truth, and the truth gave her a card to play. And when it came to men like Alucard Emery, any advantage was worth taking.