The roads are narrow, the turns sharp and angular. The Grand Canal isn’t the only body of water in this city, though it’s the most famous. Rivers network this way and that, forming streets of their own. We cross several bridges on our way, each one arcing over another passage of water. The houses are crammed together and stacked high, offering a looming sensation of claustrophobia. Just when I think the walls will close in, we turn another corner and spill into an open square.
Jasyn doesn’t stop, though my feet are glued into place. This takes the cake. Would definitely be on my Top Ten Things to See list (if I had one). I don’t need an A in history and geography to recognize the landmark that is St. Mark’s Basilica. YouTube doesn’t do it justice. The cathedral is more magnificent than anything I’ve come across in New York, with domed roofs and steeples stretching for the clouds. Don’t get me wrong, St. Patrick’s is something else, but this is a sight to behold. Robbing my oxygen. Reminding me just how small I am.
Why would Jasyn bring me here? Are we even allowed inside? The square isn’t exactly bustling with tourists. In fact, the place is probably a target for enemy bombers. I’d bet a hundred lira we’re not authorized to step within ten feet of the entrance.
Of course, rules have never hindered Jasyn.
I hurry to catch up, holding the fabric of my blouse out and away from my chest. A group of soldiers stand huddled by a military jeep-type vehicle. A few of the guys glance my way. Their eyes taper, but they must assume I don’t pose a threat because after a few seconds, they turn their attention elsewhere.
“Is it not glorious?” Jasyn asks when we’re side by side again. His neck is craned, face brighter than I’ve ever witnessed.
My breath catches. Because seeing him like this, an innocent joy blanketing his entire being, lights a small spark in me. Jasyn laughs then, full and deep. I can’t recall ever hearing the sound come from his lips. It reminds me of . . .
Kuna.
Heart lurching at the memory of his death, I have a sudden ache to hug my best friend. The last time I saw Stormy was just after Kuna’s Reminiscence. I didn’t even say good-bye.
But maybe if I can help Jasyn and find my way back, someday I’ll see her again.
My toes squish in my waterlogged sneakers as I take in the wonder before us, attempting to see it through my grandfather’s eyes. Darkness plagues him but here he stands, reveling in architectural perfection. Joshua would love this.
Quiet sadness consumes me the longer we’re apart. He said he would find me, so where is he?
“Come.” Jasyn moves forward but veers right, heading for one side of the cathedral rather than the main entrance.
Nostalgia takes over, transporting me back to a night in New York. Joshua sneaking me into a famous theater. Me more nervous than I’ve ever been. Us. Singing. Laughing. Us as we were. Us as we should be.
As we may never be again.
No one hollers as we enter St. Mark’s through a side entrance. The guard standing right there doesn’t even peek in our direction. My gut clenches, nausea threatening my last meal. But then I remember who I’m with and suddenly our ease of passage no longer racks my nervous system. Jasyn has cast a façade over us. We won’t have any trouble because we’re walking unseen. Is this how Makai feels when he’s using his invisible Shield?
Invincible.
Inside waits a palace. My humble castle in the Second feels second rate in comparison. High ceilings and mosaics that remind me of Mom. And gold. So much gold. Everywhere. Adorning the atmosphere with warmth and light. I rub my arms, still damp from my soaked clothing. But, somehow, in here . . . I no longer notice the cold.
“This way.” My grandfather seems to know his way around. He makes no move to pause as he works through the interior.
Our game of Follow the Leader continues. I glance over my shoulder now and then. Façade or none, it doesn’t hurt to be extra cautious. Deeper into St. Mark’s we wind, traveling up stairs, across a hall, then down a few more steps. At the end of one passage, a dull black door waits, out of place amongst so much brilliance. A lion’s head the size of my fist guards the door’s heart, and in its mouth a knocker begs to be used.
Jasyn stands aside. “Ladies first.”
Without hesitation I take the knocker in my hand and rap it once. It’s heavier than it appears. The solitary clang bounces off the walls around us.
Clank, shuffle, rattle. “Enter,” a female voice calls from the other side. Have I heard that voice before?
“After you.” Jasyn holds eye contact, unblinking.
After drawing in a deep breath, I shove the door open with my entire body. A chill passes over me as we exchange gold decor for emerald green. Green lamps, green chairs, green ashtrays on green tables. A hint of gold pops up every now and then, in the damask pattern on the sofa or the tassels on the Persian rug. The color combo keeps appearing. In the mirrorglass stones of the Fourth. In the decor for my coronation in the Second. Now here? What gives?
When the door slams behind us, we venture deeper into the odd room. It’s circular, with small nooks branching off to form half circles. One nook contains bookshelves and a cushioned bench, while another houses a round table and two chairs. Plants fill a third alcove, an indoor waterfall over a window playing backdrop, allowing natural light in from the outside.
“This is . . .”
“Amazing,” Jasyn finishes for me. “Really quite something.”
Adjectives elude me. I lick my lips and nod. The soothing sound of the waterfall tickles my ears. I move toward the miniature garden. Is that a Venus flytrap? I’ve never seen one up close before. The nearest I’ve ever come to one was in the old prop room at school. Of course the Little Shop of Horrors costume was huge. This little guy is tiny, like a flower bud.
“Don’t get too close. She’s been known to bite.”
Jump. Whirl. A dwarf woman stands directly behind me. I recognize her in an instant.
“Greetings, Odessa.” Jasyn gives her a small bow.
Odessa, the governor of the Sixth if I remember correctly, nods in turn. “Mr. Crowe. To what do I owe this pleasure?”
Jasyn meets us where we stand and places an arm around me. I almost shrug it off but think better of it. He hasn’t done anything to hurt me. Yet.
“This is Elizabeth. It appears we all share a common goal.”
Odessa eyes me. She’s half my size. Why do I feel like Thumbelina in her presence? “Is that so?” She taps her toe and pushes her oversized round glasses up the bridge of her nose. How is it she looks just the same as she will years from now? When I saw her in the Fourth, she appeared to be middle-aged. Shouldn’t she be younger?
“Her speech is unlike any I have ever heard.” Though excitement hoists his words, they are far from rushed, each one spoken with precision. “I cannot place her accent or her odd choice of vocabulary. I have been all over, and yet she has confounded me, Dessa.”
My cheeks flush. He speaks of me with awe. Dare I say reverence? What in the Reflections is going on?
Expression unchanging, he gazes down at me, arm still firm around my shoulders. “You are not from here, my dear. You are not from now.”
Pulse patters. Breaths shorten. Keep your mouth shut and your eyes open. He knows. He knows, he knows. But he can’t know everything. Otherwise we wouldn’t still be here. Because if he understood I eventually become his demise, it’d be game over.