The Golden City

some of the servants had assumed that motivation on his part as well. According to his valet, Marcellin, picking Alessio’s bedroom for her only fueled that speculation. Fortunately, while they might talk among themselves, the servants would never spread such rumors beyond the house. “She’s in my employ now, Erdano.”

Erdano craned his neck to get a better view of his waitress. “No, then?”

His reluctance about discussing Miss Paredes with Joaquim had involved his guilt over walking in on her nude in the bath. He didn’t want to discuss her with Erdano for fear of exciting his half brother’s interest in her. “It’s inappropriate,” he said. “Besides, I don’t know how long she’ll be here.”

“You should go ahead and bed her now, then,” Erdano said. “No sense waiting.”

Duilio let out a laugh, amused out of his annoyance. There were times when Erdano’s simplistic view of life had its advantages. “That’s why you’re going to end up with a kitchen knife in your back someday, Erdano.”

His half brother laughed. “No woman would ever hurt me.”

To be truthful, Erdano did have a talent for finding women who didn’t seem to mind sharing him. “Her husband, then,” Duilio said. “I’ll keep my distance from Miss Paredes.”

“Your loss.” Erdano grinned at the waitress, who returned a saucy wink. “She hasn’t come back. Are you bedding her?”

Duilio stared across the table at him, trying to follow that logic. “Who?”

Erdano blinked at him, head tilting to one side. “Aga. Tigana gave her to you, and she hasn’t come back. That’s why I wanted to see you.”

Duilio had qualms about Erdano’s casual way of referring to members of his harem like they were possessions, but as he didn’t live in Erdano’s world, he chose not to comment. “Aga didn’t stay with me. Do you want me to look for her?”

Erdano shrugged. “She has to leave the harem eventually, but . . .”

“Wait . . . why does she have to leave?”

“She’s one of my father’s get,” Erdano said, as if that were patently obvious.

Duilio wished his mother were more aware of things about her, so he could ply her with questions about the rules inside a selkie harem. Evidently there were more than he knew. He’d never considered before what happened to all of Erdano’s half sisters once their father died. “I’ll see if I can find out what happened to her.”

Erdano nodded briskly. “Thanks.”

Erdano rarely came to him with a problem, so Duilio didn’t mind pursuing the inquiry. Besides, he had a good idea where to start. Aga was likely at Joao’s small apartment on the quay near the Ferreira boats. If Erdano had thought to ask Joao directly, Duilio probably could have just stayed home and talked with Miss Paredes all evening. Duilio dropped a handful of coins on the table to cover the tab, slid off the bench, and clapped his half brother’s shoulder. “Come on back to the house.”

With a dramatic sigh, Erdano joined him and headed toward the door. “I’ll have to come back for Eva later, I guess.”

Eva must be the petite waitress. “Mother would like to see you,” Duilio reminded him.

He waited on the threshold as Erdano mouthed something at the pretty girl, to which she nodded. And then a twinge hit him, a brief instant of premonition.

His blood roaring in his ears, Duilio sprang forward. He shoved Erdano over as a gunshot rang through the crowded room. Fragments of wood sprayed in all directions when a bullet hit the doorpost where he’d stood.

Amid the screams of the patrons, Duilio landed atop Erdano on the tavern floor. Everything seemed to move more slowly about him as he pushed away from his brother. He heard a second click, but nothing happened. Had the gun jammed? He couldn’t pinpoint the direction the sound had come from. His own breath sounded harsh in his ears now.

He was an easy target there on the floor. That realization sent cold rushing through his body. He rolled to one side to get back to his feet.

He’d barely risen to his knees when another body slammed into his from behind, sending him back to the ground. Searing pain burned through the back of his left shoulder—a knife. Duilio hissed in a tight breath. Gritting his teeth, he rolled away, drawing his revolver as he moved.

The sight of that was enough to forestall his assailant, a burly, dark-haired man in a checked suit. After a split second of indecision, the man bolted out the tavern door and into the night. Duilio groaned and lay back on the floor, wondering how long it would take his heart to stop racing. Damnation, that was close.

There were people bustling past, stepping over him, belatedly trying to escape from danger that had already fled. Fortunately, no one stepped on him.

“You’re bleeding,” Erdano said helpfully from above. He offered Duilio a hand up.

Duilio took Erdano’s hand, grunting when Erdano practically jerked him off the floor. Erdano sometimes forgot how strong he was. Once Duilio was on his feet, Erdano started looking about for his waitress, unconcerned by the aforementioned blood.

Duilio holstered his gun and raised his other hand to his stinging shoulder. It did come away bloody, but he doubted the wound was severe. Had the attack been linked to his recent discussion with Augustus Smithson, tied to his search for the missing pelt? Perhaps he’d gotten too close, as Alessio had at the end.

Then he saw the dagger lying on the floor at his feet. He retrieved it, noting both his blood on the edge of the blade and the sigil stamped on the hilt—the open hand of the Special Police. Not good. He slid it into a pocket.

What had changed that had caused the Special Police to come after him? He doubted it was his selkie blood. They had no way to prove he wasn’t completely human. No, this had to be something else.

They patrolled the area around The City Under the Sea. Could his attacker be involved in that somehow? And if this attack was about that, why now? How did they know he’d made enough progress in the case to become a threat? And if that was it, would they come after Miss Paredes too? He wasn’t sure what to make of the timing. He turned to Erdano. “I suspect you shouldn’t go back to the house with me after all. I’ll send word when it’s safe.”

Which apparently suited Erdano’s plans for the night anyway. He shrugged and wandered off to find his Eva.

* * *

After a nearly silent dinner, Felis had helped get Lady Ferreira settled in bed. Oriana spent the remainder of the evening in her bedroom, stewing over the day’s happenings as she affixed the new ruffle to the blue silk dress. She was baffled by Heriberto’s actions toward her father. What did it mean that her father had paid Heriberto money? And the woman who’d watched Heriberto and then Oriana herself? That was another mystery that she was going to be picking at for some time. At least tomorrow night she might get answers about Isabel’s death from Nela’s mysterious Lady. That would be a leap forward.

And now that the household was mostly quiet, she could take a stab at unraveling the mystery of her employer’s family. In the silence, Oriana walked downstairs and entered a room that had been left off her tour, off-limits to the servants, according to Cardenas. The library had the same elegance as the rest of the house and smelled of ambergris cologne, a hint of lingering muskiness. Well-dusted bookshelves lined the walls. A liquor cabinet held an assortment of bottles, and between the sets of shelves was a niche with a kneeler for prayer.

That niche held her quarry, the Ferreira family’s Bible. Oriana flipped through the first few pages and found the information she sought. Among the births and deaths, there were only two sons listed under Lady Giana Ferreira’s name: Duilio, who would be twenty-nine, and Alessio, who had died before his thirtieth birthday. No Erdano at all. No previous husband. So although this Erdano must exist, he wasn’t recognized by the Church.

Oriana rubbed the back of her neck. Where could she look next?

Then she heard footsteps in the hall. With a startled gasp, she quickly ducked into the shadows on one side of the liquor cabinet, hoping not to be noticed.

Mr. Ferreira strode into the library. He closed the door, trapping her there with him, but she was certain he hadn’t noticed her. He leaned on the table for a moment, one hand on its polished surface. Then he sighed, withdrew a holstered revolver from the waist of his trousers, and laid it on the table. He shrugged off his frock coat, revealing a bloodied shirtsleeve. Oriana clapped one hand over her mouth. He tossed the coat over one of the chairs, then removed a small gun from an ankle holster. Apparently thinking he was alone, he pulled down his