MasukPOV: Matteo"Stand up one more time and I will tie you to that chair myself, Matteo. Look at your hands. Do you see how they shake?"I am Matteo, and Dr. Lucia Fenn glared at me over a tray of brown bottles as if I were a naughty schoolboy. It was seven in the morning. The council chamber smelled of beeswax, wet wool, and cold coffee, and the tall windows were streaked with gold from the rising sun. I sat at the end of the long table in my wheeled chair, a blanket over my knees. My chest felt tight, as though a rope were tied around it and someone was slowly pulling."I am only sitting," I said."You are only sitting the way a cat is only sleeping." She pressed two fingers against my wrist and frowned. "Your pulse is galloping. You promised me.""I promised to stay quiet.""That is the same thing.""It is not," Isabella said from the other side of the table, without looking up. She was arranging papers in careful rows. "He promised me, too. He is an advisor today. Nothing more."I met
POV: Isabella"You told my son this council was a family, Isabella. So tell me why he is standing beside that woman, and why you are the one who looks ashamed."I am Isabella, and Rosa's voice cut through the cold air of pier nine like a knife through cloth. She had pushed past the ropes before anyone could stop her. Her grey shawl hung off one shoulder, and her hands were shaking so hard she had to clasp them against her chest. Behind her, Nico stood frozen, his mouth open, his eyes fixed on the small silver gull pinned to his son's collar."Rosa," I said gently, "please come back behind the rope.""Do not tell me what to do." Her eyes were red and fierce. "For six nights I sat at that window. Six nights! And all I heard from your council was patience, patience, patience. Now look at what patience has bought me.""I know.""You do not know. You have never had a child standing in the wrong place at the wrong hour." She stopped, and her face crumpled for half a second. "Forgive me. I d
POV: Matteo“Half of Marabella is standing on this pier, Matteo, and not one of them can save you. So who do you wish to hurt first, your council or your conscience?”I am Matteo, and Odile Verrant stepped from her launch at pier nine as calmly as if she were arriving at the opera. It was ten past four on Saturday morning, and the sky above the harbor had gone the color of dirty pearl. The wind carried the smell of salt, coal smoke, and wet paper. Every notice board in the city had been plastered overnight with her name, and the crowd stood behind the ropes in silent thousands, shawls pulled tight, breath steaming. I sat in my chair at the front, wrapped in a blanket, with Isabella’s hand on my shoulder and Dr. Fenn scowling behind me like a small thundercloud.“You have been busy,” Odile said, looking at the crowd. “Posters. Ledgers. Tobias. I confess I did not expect the boy to break.”“You did not expect a lot of things,” said Isabella.Dr. Fenn muttered behind me, “If that woman t
POV: Isabella“Nobody came when my father rang. Give me one good reason why I should stop what I started tonight, Signora, because I cannot find one myself.”I am Isabella, and Tobias Ferro sat inside the great bronze bell like a child hiding in a cupboard. It was almost midnight. The wind moaned through the stone arches, cold and full of salt, and the tower creaked around us like an old ship. I stood on the top step with one hand on the rail and the other holding a lantern. Below me, at the base of the stairs, Dario waited with Nico and Corvin. I had told them exactly where I was going. I had told them why. Dario had looked at me and said only, Thank you for telling me. It was the best thing anyone had said to me all week.Tobias sat curled against the inner wall of the bell with his knees drawn up. He was thin, pale, and very young. His left hand held a small brass lever wired to a coil of cable, and on that hand, loose on his thin finger, shone a gold ring with a flat dent on one s
POV: Matteo“You are not allowed out of that bed, and if you take one step toward the door, I will tie you to it with my own scarf.”I am Matteo, and I did not take one step. I took forty. The morning sun burned yellow through the curtains, and I woke with my whole chest wrapped in white cloth and my tongue tasting of medicine. Isabella sat beside me with red eyes and a scarf twisted in her hands. She had not slept. Her hair was crooked. I loved her so much in that moment that it frightened me.“Isabella, the council meets at noon.”“The council can meet without you.”“Yes.” I pushed myself up, and lightning went through my ribs. I bit down on a groan. “But you asked me to be silent, two days ago, and I was. Today I think you need me to speak.”She stared at me. Her mouth opened, and closed. “That is the opposite of what I asked.”“You asked me to trust the council. I trust it. I only want them to have every fact.” I reached for her hand. “Tobias is a fact. Marta’s letter is a fact. D
POV: Isabella“One rib has moved inward, Signora. If he stands up today, it may pierce the lung, and he will not wake again. Do you understand me? He must not stand.”I am Isabella, and Dr. Lucia Fenn had never lied to me in twenty years, which was why I wished so badly that she would start. We stood in the corridor outside the room where they had laid Matteo, a small bright room above the council house, smelling of carbolic soap and lavender. Behind the door he lay pale and still, a bandage tight around his chest. His hand lay open on the blanket. I had held it for two hours, until the doctor made me leave.“How long?” I asked.“At least a week. Perhaps three. He will fight me, Signora. He will tell you he is fine.” Her voice was gentle. “Do not listen to him.”“I have not listened to him since the day we married.”She almost smiled. Then she squeezed my arm and left me alone in the corridor. Alone was a word I had not felt in years. Nico was at the harbor. Camilla was counting hours







