Chapter 20

A raw scream ripped from her throat as she charged Thorsten. Pulse pounding in her ears, she swung her sword. He ducked, flames whirring overhead, as she expected. She checked the arc of her sword and angled it down toward his guts, lunging onto her toes with the force of the thrust. The tip of the blade nicked him.

Chun Yi crackled with enchanted flames. It craved more than a taste of blood.

“You’re going to die tonight,” she said.

Thorsten flicked away her sword with the flat of his dagger. “Amateur.”

Ardis danced out of his reach. A shadow circled them like a vulture–Wendel II, cloaked by the magic of Amarant. With luck, he would backstab the bastard. Wendel I staggered closer, knuckles white around his dagger.

“I made you what you are,” Thorsten said. “Your tactics are predictable, Wendel.”

“Did you predict two of them?” Ardis wanted to disorient him.

Behind his mask, Thorsten’s glacial blue eyes glittered. “How did you do it?”

“How about I tell you over your dead body?”

Thorsten laughed through the mask’s demonic grin. “Once I win, I will choose my favorite way to make you talk.”

Threatening Ardis lured Wendel II closer into the fight.

Thorsten spun around and lashed out at the shadow. Blood flew from the darkness, splattering across the deck.

Wendel II retreated, his wound invisible, the drops of crimson betraying his presence.

“You can’t cheat death forever, Wendel.”

Following the blood, Thorsten stalked the necromancer, his stance that of a coiled viper. Ardis flanked him, looking for an angle of attack. Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed the black dagger whipping through the air.

Thorsten dove into a roll; the blade clattered on the deck.

“Damn.” Empty-handed, Wendel I curled his lip. “Ardis?”

She ducked for the dagger, snatching it from the slick deck. Armed with both Amarant and Chun Yi, she changed her stance. A dagger could be useful for blocking and deflecting, while the sword itself did the most damage.

Thorsten kept his back to the railing. His dagger gleamed red in the starlight.

“Maybe if you had stayed with my mother,” Ardis said, “you could predict my tactics.”

“You aren’t my daughter.”

“If only.”

He tilted his head, the devil mask sliding a little askew. “Your mother was a whore.”

She forced out a laugh. “And?”

“You have no hope of ever finding your father.”

Wendel II prowled in the shadows, the bloodfall still betraying him. He couldn’t stab Thorsten without a distraction.

“Where the hell did you come from, Thorsten?” she said.

“Constantinople.”

“Where did you really come from?” She had been asked so many times she expected it, but no one ever seemed to question a white man.

Thorsten edged along the railing. “Norway.”

“Nice there this time of year?” The sharkskin of her sword’s hilt imprinted her fist.

Wendel I laughed. “Why do you want his life story? It’s all bullies and wetting the bed. Poor little misunderstood Thorsten.”

The Grandmaster sighed. “You never succeeded at taunts.”

“Your teaching left much to be desired.”

“If only you–”

In the space between words, Ardis lunged into a sprint.

When she swung at Thorsten’s neck, aiming to take off his head, he blocked with the flat of his dagger. She counterattacked with Amarant, left-handed, and stabbed at his ribs. Dodging, he twisted her wrist; she tumbled into the rotation before leaping to her feet. One second more, and he would have disarmed her.

Thorsten waited for her next attack. He had little tension in his stance.

No more than a specter of darkness, Wendel II leapt to stab him in the back. Thorsten twisted, taking the dagger in his shoulder, wrenching the blade with him. Shadows faded from Wendel’s skin and bared him to the starlight. He flung his arms open at his sides. Blood dripped from the gash tattering his right arm.

“Kill me again,” Wendel II said.

Thorsten ignored the dagger still buried in his shoulder. “They were right about you.”

“Who?”

“Your family.”

Wendel II’s eyes glittered with intensity. “Have I disappointed everyone?”

“You were my best assassin.”

Ardis slid her boot along the deck, gripping her blades, looking for a chance to finish him. Her mouth felt dryer than dust.

Thorsten backed Wendel II toward the railing. “You betrayed me.”

“I escaped you.” The necromancer’s words rasped with raw pain.

Heartbeat thundering in her ears, she took another step.

“Escaped?” Thorsten laughed. “Look at you.”

The Grandmaster struck. His dagger flashed like a viper’s fang, aimed for Wendel II’s neck. Wendel caught the blade between his fingers. Baring his teeth, he tightened his grip on the dagger. Crimson seeped through his fist.

Thorsten threw a punch at his head. Wendel II dodged and dragged Thorsten closer.

They hit the railing of the yacht. Teetering, Wendel II glanced back, his eyes flashing, before he grabbed a fistful of Thorsten’s cloak and locked him into a perverse imitation of an embrace. Thorsten twisted the dagger free.

Wendel II flung them both overboard.

Water crashed under the impact. Ardis sprinted to the edge and hung onto the railing. Black waves burst into silver foam.

“Ardis.” The other Wendel struggled to her side.

“Do you see him?” she said.

“No.”

“Feel him?” Dying, though she couldn’t say it out loud.

“No,” he said again. “He’s too far away.”

The sea rippled beneath the stars. She peered at the yacht’s wake but saw nothing surface. No one could hold their breath for that long. They had to be locked together beneath the waves, sinking deeper into infinite darkness.

~

A week after the masquerade, only one Wendel remained.

In the cafe at Hotel am Meer, he watched goose-feather snow drift through the evening. Steam curled from his forgotten cup of tea. Nettle tea, to replenish blood. Though he looked pale, it was more of his usual coloring.

When Ardis sipped her own tea, she scalded her tongue. “I wonder where he is?”

He didn’t ask who she meant. “Gone.”

“But you never felt him die.”

“We can’t wait here forever. Eventually, we need to leave.”

She swallowed past the ache in her throat. Jin Hua had already said the same, anxious to return to San Francisco. But Ardis knew she could never return to America. After traveling for years, she had no home to call her own.

“And go where?” she said.

Wendel traced his finger down the windowpane. “There’s always Switzerland.”

Her stomach lurched as if she were standing at the edge of a cliff. Switzerland had been nothing but a dream; making it a reality frightened her. They would be alone there, outside of the war, with no battles to fight.

What kind of life would they have without bloodstained hands?

“Are you feeling well enough to travel?” she said.

“Yes.”

His one-word answer didn’t satisfy her. “You died. Again.”

“And came back. Again.” A smirk tugged at his lips.

“Prove it.” She managed to sound lighthearted. “Go for a walk with me.”

“Gladly.”

“It’s cold tonight.”

He rolled his eyes. “It’s always cold in Prussia.”

Together, they walked through Kiel. Seabirds sliced the evening. They passed a row of townhouses, roofs capped with snow, the aromas of baked potatoes and roast beef mingling with the scent of saltwater. Through the windows, golden light spilled into the street, along with glimpses of families enjoying dinner.

“Will we ever be like that?” Ardis said.

Wendel glanced at the nearest window; a dog begged for scraps dangled by a toddler.

“I’m unconvinced by the dog,” he said. “A cat, perhaps.”

“I mean, will we ever be that domestic?”

“Domestic.” He wrinkled his nose. “Tamed? Wrangling the wild necromancer?”

“I forgot how Germans are obsessed with cowboys.”

“Are we?” He kept walking, snow crunching under his boots. “To answer your question, I would like to stop running someday.”

“Thorsten can’t hurt you.”

He shivered. “My doppelgänger dragged him to the bottom of the sea.”

She thought of Wendel II beneath the waves, his black hair drifting like seaweed, cold, though he couldn’t feel anything anymore.

He haunted her dreams at night. Every night, since she lost him.

“I apologize,” said Wendel, the one here and now. “Let’s not speak of the dead.”

They wandered along the coastline of Kiel, the city’s lighting shattered by the water, like a mirror all in pieces. Like her life right now.

“Look,” Wendel said. “The Peregrine.”

Plowing through the pea-soup clouds, the zeppelin soared over the harbor. The portholes along her gondola shone bright.

“A test flight,” Ardis said. “Maybe for navigation.”

Soon, Konstantin and Himmel would be leaving, too, on their voyage around the world.

“I have an idea.” Wendel had a secret kind of smile.

“What do you propose?”

His eyes glinted. “I already proposed.”

She sighed. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“Marry me,” he said, and he kissed her in the street.

Her heartbeat stumbled. She stepped away from him and tugged her jacket straight, though her thoughts were still in disarray.

“I don’t have anything to wear.” She glanced at her travel-worn clothes.

“That can easily be remedied.”

God, he was serious. He wanted to get married. Here. Now.

She exhaled in a plume of white. “You want to get married in a church?” She hesitated. “You aren’t Catholic, that’s all I know.”

“Correct.” He flashed his teeth in a grin.

“Should I be marrying a man with so many secrets?”

His grin faltered. “My family is Protestant. I don’t believe in it now.”

“Then let’s not get married in a church.” She touched his cheek with her fingertips. “Wendel, are you sure about this?”

“Absolutely.” He looked into her eyes, his own shining in the lamplight. “Are you?”

She nodded, a knot in her throat. “Do you want your family to be there?”

“No. Only you.”

“How does this work?”

“We need to find the local Standesamt, the civil registration office. That’s all it takes to be married in Prussia.”

“But I’m not Prussian.”

“You will be, once you become my wife.”

Her stomach felt bubbly, like she had drunk champagne. She could hardly believe they were having this conversation.

“Will I become a princess?”

He laughed. “Sadly, no.”

“That’s fine with me.”

~

Morning sun slanted into the Hotel am Meer cafe. Konstantin gazed through the windows while drinking coffee. Outside, Fang bounded through snowdrifts, her tongue lolling. Himmel followed in the dog’s pawprints.

“Good morning,” Ardis said.

Konstantin startled, then smiled. “Morning.”

“You look criminally cheerful,” Wendel said. “It’s too close to dawn.”

“Dawn? Hardly.” Konstantin sipped more coffee, his lifeblood.

“Have you seen my mother?” Ardis said.

Konstantin dabbed his mouth with a napkin. “Not yet.”

Butterflies flitted through her stomach. She wanted to tell him about their marriage today, but not before telling her mother first.

“Look,” Konstantin said, “there’s Krampus.”

The raven swooped from a lamppost and landed by the dog. Barking, Fang dove into a playful bow. Krampus nipped at her nose.

Wendel grunted. “Better than pigeons.”

“Pardon?”

“Never mind.” Wendel took a seat. “You didn’t order breakfast? Only coffee?”

Konstantin blinked owlishly. “Is that a problem?”

Laughing, Ardis grabbed a menu. “Let’s get something that isn’t liquid.”

They ordered bread rolls, marmalade, liverwurst, and Camembert cheese from France. Through the windows, Konstantin beckoned Himmel, who stomped the snow off his boots and brought Fang upstairs to their room.

Just as the waiter delivered their breakfast, Jin Hua sailed into the cafe.

“May I join you?” she said.

“Of course.” Ardis focused on buttering her bread. How should she tell her?

Wendel eyed the window. “Looks like the weather won’t be abysmal today.”

“With any luck,” Jin Hua said.

“A perfect day for–”

Himmel returned to the table, interrupting Wendel, and dropped into the chair nearest Konstantin. “Looks good,” he said.

Jin Hua glanced at Wendel. “You were saying?”

She couldn’t take another second of waiting.

“Mama.” She sucked in a breath. “We’re getting married.”

Jin Hua poured cream into her coffee. “You already told me that.”

“Today.”

Her mother looked her over. “Not in that you aren’t.”

Relief washed over Ardis in a wave. “Will you help me find a dress?”

“I’m your mother.”

“How unexpectedly wonderful!” Konstantin’s cheeks looked pink. “One can only hope I packed clothes suitable for a wedding.”

“Not a wedding,” Ardis said, waving her hand, “just a civil marriage. Simple.”

“Still an occasion requiring some sartorial thought.”

“More importantly,” Wendel said, “we need two witnesses.”

Cradling his coffee, Konstantin gawked at him. “Me?”

“Would you do the honor?” Wendel managed to sound polite.

“So long as you don’t call me ‘archmage’ for a day.”

Wendel coughed. “I can try.”

Ardis bit back a laugh. “Mama, will you be our other witness?”

“Yes.” Jin Hua slathered marmalade on her bread. “But first, we need to buy the dress.”

“Mustn’t get married naked,” Wendel said.

Jin Hua shook her butter knife at him. “You aren’t allowed to come shopping. Bad luck to see the bride before the wedding.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Wendel couldn’t seem to stop smiling.

God, he was handsome. Ardis resisted the urge to stare. Just barely.

Sighing, Jin Hua glanced heavenward. “If only we had time for a wedding banquet.”

“Leave that to me,” Wendel said airily, leaning back in his chair.

Jin Hua squinted at him. “Get eight or nine dishes. Not any other numbers.”

“Why?”

“Luck! Obviously. In Chinese, the word for eight rhymes with prosper, and the word for nine rhymes with long-lasting.”

“Obviously.” He nodded. “Anything else?”

“Fish.”

He snapped his fingers. “That will be easy. Prussians love fish.”

“Lots of fish, for lots of babies.”

A hint of color touched his cheeks. “Of course.”

“Lobster, since red is lucky.”

“And?”

“Rice.” Jin Hua waved her hand imperiously. “Noodles! The longer, the better.”

He laughed. “Should I be taking notes?”

“Probably,” Ardis said, grinning.

“Meet me at the Standesamt at four o’clock. Provided I survive preparations.”

“I have faith in you.”

After breakfast, she and her mother took a taxi to the heart of Kiel, where ladies braved the snowfall to buy the latest fashions.

“You made up your mind,” Jin Hua said. It wasn’t a question.

“I did.”

“When was Wendel born?”

He had told her, once, and it took her a moment to remember. “November 13, 1890.”

“Year of the metal tiger.” Her mother pursed her lips. “Of course.”

“Mama, I don’t care about astrology.”

“You were born in the year of the water dragon, which means your marriage will be passionate but tempestuous at times.”

Ardis smirked. “Something to look forward to.”

When they stepped from the taxi, a wind blew snowflakes in a spiral. Jin Hua clutched her hat to her hair. She scanned the windows with the patience of a practiced hunter, eyeing shimmering gowns in silk and velvet.

“There,” Jin Hua said.

Ardis didn’t see her mother’s target, but she followed her into the store without question. A bell jingled over the door.

“Good morning,” the shopgirl said. “Can I help you?”

Jin Hua summoned her with a wave of her hand. “This one.” She pointed to a mannequin.

It wasn’t a white dress, which was the color of Chinese funerals, but one in ruby red. Ornate flowers and leaves patterned the cut velvet, which fell to the floor in a slim silhouette. Ardis knew it had to cost a fortune.

“Mama,” she said, “that’s too fancy.”

Jin Hua scoffed. “You only get married once. At least, I hope just once.”

The shopgirl took the red dress down from the mannequin and held it against Ardis. It looked like the right size.

“Would you like to try it on?” the shopgirl said.

“Please,” Ardis said.

In the dressing room, her mother helped her into a corset.

“Where will you go for your honeymoon?” Jin Hua said.

“Honeymoon?” Ardis stared blankly at her reflection in the full-length mirror. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”

Jin Hua concentrated on lacing the corset. “China?”

She laughed. “That’s thousands of miles away.”

“I could come with you. Show you around.”

“On our honeymoon?”

Jin Hua scoffed. “After.”

“I won’t convince Wendel.” She licked her lips. “How about Norway?”

“Why?”

“Thorsten is Norwegian. Was.”

Her mother yanked the corset laces a bit too hard. “He told you that?”

“Among other things.” Her stomach wormed with anxiety, like it did before a battle she wasn’t sure she would win.

“If only you had never met him.”

“If only.” She swallowed hard. “Was he really my father?”

Jin Hua met her gaze in the mirror. “Unluckily.”

“There… wasn’t anyone else?”

Her mother narrowed her eyes. “He called me a whore?”

“Maybe.”

“He was the only candidate.”

Ardis realized she had been holding her breath, then let it escape as a sigh. “Now I know that I’m half Norwegian.”

“You always were tall. And your hair.” Jin Hua smoothed a tawny lock of it.

“I wish we didn’t have to kill him.”

“Me, too.”

“I wish he hadn’t been an insane murderer who tortured Wendel for a decade.”

Jin Hua arched an eyebrow. “I’m done with the corset.”

Ardis slipped the dress over her head and shimmied it down to her hips. When the bodice gaped at the bust, she held it against herself.

Her mother fastened the clasps, correcting the fit. “Perfect.”