The apollo, p.12
The Apollo, page 12
The Winter Lights Festival when Matteo was eight had had a particular magic about it. A blizzard like none other had come the night before and not let up. The streets were filled with snow and the wind blew massive snowflakes every which way, but that did not stop the citizens of Veronii from coming out in spades. They took it as a sign that Aurora was witness to their prayers. The entire evening felt particularly holy.
Matteo’s brother Julio, who was five years his senior, had been placed in charge of looking after him and keeping him from running too far. Julio had held Matteo’s hand so tight it hurt. When his other brothers and sisters were given lanterns to decorate and send up into the sky, Julio did not allow Matteo to join. Matteo didn’t understand why. He wanted to take part in the fun, just like all the other children. Julio never quite saw Matteo as family. This was the day that Matteo realized that.
“Please Julio! Let me decorate a lantern.”
“There aren’t enough for you. Calm down.”
Young Matteo had stuck his tongue out at his brother. “You just want to go to the square and dance with girls.”
Julio pinched his ear. “Shut up, Matteo.”
The snow was coming down heavier and heavier by the minute and Matteo had to pull his
fur hood over his face so much so that his eyes were covered just to see. He felt like a little snow bear roaming the streets. A smell floated into his nose. Roasted seeds and chicory roots. The woman selling it gave him a little wave and Matteo dug in his heels, trying to get Julio to stop. But Julio just kept walking.
“Can I get some roast chicory root? Mother gave you money to use for me.”
“No, Matteo. It’s my money. I chose what we buy.”
Without thinking, Matteo jerked his arm away from his brother and gave him a gentle push. The street was so icy, however, that Julio fell hard on his face. Matteo didn’t stop to see if his older brother was alright. He turned and ran as fast as he could. He didn’t want to be with his older brother anymore. He wanted to decorate a lantern with the rest of his family. He wanted roast chicory!
Matteo ran and ran until he was sure he had to be close to where he’d left his brothers and sisters, but the snow threw off his sense of direction and he soon found himself lost. Everyone looked the same, clad in pure white they barely stood out against the snow. Matteo ran hard into an older woman garnering a sharp yelp and a scolding from a young, blonde man. Matteo kept running.
Suddenly, an arm caught his. He turned around and found himself face to face with a gorgeous, dark set of eyes and nothing else. The person holding his arm was clearly a woman, but she was dressed in shapeless flowing white robes and a scarf over her head that covered everything but her eyes. She had loving eyes, a mother’s eyes. She was worried about him, clearly. She spoke to him in a language he didn’t recognize.
“Please let me go,” Matteo had asked, unable to hide the childish fear in his voice. The woman spoke again, louder this time. Matteo could hear her perfectly well. It was her language he couldn’t grasp. She sighed and shook her head.
“You are Shaheeni,” she said, still gripping his arm with all her might. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m of the De Luca family.” Matteo straightened his back and spoke with pride just like he’d seen his brother Julio do. The woman shook her head at him. “Who are you?” Matteo asked.
Before she had a chance to answer, Julio emerged from the crowd absolutely furious. He’d removed one of his fur gloves and was clutching it to his forehead which was gushing blood. Matteo’s stomach fell. Julio must have hit his head in the fall.
“I’m going to kill you,” Julio growled. Matteo pulled himself free of the woman and tried to run but Julio caught him.
“No, Julio. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
But the damage had been done. Matteo was not allowed to attend another Winter Lights Festival and his brother still sported a scar across his brow where he’d hit his head.
That was the first time Matteo truly felt different than his siblings. The seed had been planted. The woman was right. He was not like Julio, not like his mother or father. He didn’t know who he was, where he’d come from, or why he’d wound up in Veronii. As he grew older, he dedicated himself to finding the answers to those exact questions.
He’d taken the Bianco case as just another job, just another path to finding what he really wanted: answers to why he existed. But then he’d met Avira and his heart had done with the rest. But when the time came, when the falcon arrived on the horizon and Avira had to choose between him or her disguise on board The Apollo, she’d chosen the latter. She hadn’t even kissed him goodbye.
Matteo knew he should be worrying about other things. The old Matteo would have been worried about those things. The blood-stained Bianco medallion was meant to send a message. But all he could think about was how she’d just left.
The mornings they’d spent up here together had fallen into a lovely sort of pattern. He’d come straight from his shift bringing a jug of tea for her. They’d share the tea, tell stories, and watch the stars until dawn began to break, and then he would pack up the tea and the blanket, kiss her goodbye, and make his way down the rope ladder. It was vital that he did not wait too long before starting his descent, or he might run into the rutty old man who was Avira’s shift replacement. It was easy to imagine how awkward it would be to meet someone halfway down a rope ladder that barely had space for one. It would be an awful and awkward negotiation about who would move out of the way for the other to pass.
Matteo wanted so badly to follow Avira. But starting down the ladder now felt desperate. She was probably already sitting across from Artemis. It felt so strange that Artemis knew exactly who she was but pretended as though her disguise worked perfectly.
Matteo pouted like a child who’d been told no to a toy. He held the empty tea canister between his knees and crossed his arms. It was one thing to be alone but quite another to feel utterly useless.
He, too, was curious about the letter in the mysterious language. It was not a Northern Language at all, the characters looked like little triangles and loops with very little consistency. He’d tried to teach himself the Shaheeni language as a boy, but it never caught on. Still, he knew enough to feel quite confident the letter was not written in Shaheeni at all.
As Matteo sat, waiting for Avira’s replacement to arrive (he was late, by the way), he set his eyes on a patch of clouds about a mile ahead of The Apollo. It had a strange shape, more rotund than most of the clouds he’s seen. As they grew closer, he saw it was shimmering in the morning light. Matteo squinted his eyes, trying to figure out why the cloud looked so different.
That’s when he realized it wasn’t a cloud at all. It was a trick of the light. About a mile in the distance was a massive skyship, not quite as big as The Apollo but certainly a rival. This ship was unlike anything he’d seen in Veronii or Alvanii alike. It had massive sails instead of metal wings. The sails stretched all around the ship, covering what he could only assume was the wooden body of the vessel and the balloon that kept it aloft.
These sails, which Matteo had mistaken for clouds and sky, were a glittering silver and blue color. It was almost wholly camouflaged against the sky.
He was still squinting his eyes, trying without much luck to conceptualize how large the ship in front of him was when the falcons started circling. There were at least one hundred muscular birds flying in a massive loop from one ship to another. They were like some omen of death that existed only in storybooks. All the birds wore the same little coat that the messenger falcon had worn. It appeared that someone had taken the time to train the birds. They were as disciplined as soldiers.
In Veronii, the wealthy sent messages via dove from one household to another. Most of the city had been built right into a rocky cliffside, so it was hard to move from one villa to another any way other than by foot. The rocky cliffs of Veronii were keeping sky ships from making port anywhere near the city center. Sending messages ahead of time was more than just good etiquette. It was a necessity. But these birds had a more menacing aura than the doves that flew around Veronii night. Those birds felt like messengers. These falcons felt like soldiers ready to plow into battle at the snap of their master’s fingers. But who could their master be? Matteo still could barely make out their ship with all of its camouflage.
Falcons were the symbol of The Bianco family, but he knew ships in the Biaco fleet were required to show gold as their color. So, who could these ships belong to?
He wondered if anyone else had seen it, and then he kicked himself for wondering that. Of course, nobody had. A bell was fastened to the side of the crow’s nest. It was never to be rung unless the ship was being boarded. If Matteo rang the bell, the other lookouts would hear and begin ringing theirs, triggering the bells on deck and signaling the crew’s lockdown.
Matteo stared at the bell. What were the odds this ship was all a figment of his imagination? He had no proof it meant harm, except for the armada of predatory birds that he swore were getting closer with each swoop.
If he rang the bell and nobody boarded the ship, it would be investigated, and he’d have to explain why he was in the crow’s nest instead of Avira. He didn’t want to put the girl in danger.
That’s when he saw the gliders. Or at least, he thought they must be gliders. They were about six feet long, with a sail and a small balloon at the base to keep them aloft. There were two of them, moving surprisingly quickly. The sea of birds parted, the vessels cutting their way through like swiping blades. Each glider held two people dressed in flowing blue robes. They didn’t look armed, but that didn’t stop Matteo. He rang the bell.
Someone was coming for The Apollo.
Chapter nineteen
Avira had never descended the ladder from the crow’s nest so quickly. Her heart was pitter-pattering like bumblebee wings. She had a mission, a task, and she was going to make an impact. For the first time, maybe ever, she felt like herself. She imagined how impressed Captain Cascella would be with her. Perhaps she’d get a promotion.
As soon as she set foot on the deck, she was running, clasping the letter in her knuckles so tightly they were white. She couldn’t tell if the thump thumping in her ears was her feet on the deck or her heart drumming along.
She reached the door with engraved golden sun and knocked furiously. A tattooed man swung the door open. She wracked her brain for his name, but it wouldn’t come.
“What’s yer business?” he growled.
“I need to see the captain. It’s important.”
“Name?”
“Cesario.”
“Last name?”
“I’m the lookout. A falcon brought me this letter. Please, it might be time sensitive.”
The tattooed man sniffed a bit, which seemed to pique his interest. After a long moment, he opened the door wider and motioned for Avira to walk down a long dark hallway with a green velveteen carpet.
At the end of the hallway was another door with three suns that looked as though they had actual gold poured into the carvings. She knocked on this door, for some reason more gently than she had the first one. It opened, and she walked in, her eyes adjusting to the dim candlelight.
She could make out the silhouette of the captain, stretched out like a cat across a sofa, a glass of wine in hand.
“Sir, I have a letter for you. It may be urgent—”
“Well, if it isn’t Miss Avira Bianco.”
Her blood ran cold. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir.”
“Don’t lie to me, girl. It’s not very ladylike. What would your father think?” Artemis smiled. His teeth shone as white as opals, even in the dark.
“Who told you? Matteo?” There was a crack in her voice as she spoke. She’d trusted him. And he’d turned her in? All while kissing her so passionately. Her eyes were growing hot, and her face was burning, tears would come soon.
“I thought…” Artemis motioned with his hand for her to come closer. “…you said that this letter was urgent. Give it here.”
She handed him the letter, and he glanced it over, his smile fading into more of a smirk.
“Do you know what language this is?”
“No, sir.” She barely had the words to respond to him.
“It’s the language of Shaheeni nobility. Very few speak it, and even fewer can write it. Do you know what that means?” Artemis barely waited a second for Avira to answer. It was clear she could not. “It means this letter is from Queen Adipe of Shaheen and from the looks of that medallion, she’s here to retrieve you.”
Avira could feel herself shaking violently, not a shiver like when you’re cold, but more of a panic, like her bones were about to cave in on themselves from anger, from anxiety, from pure terror.
“Oh, quit your quivering, darling. I think you’ll like Queen Adipe quite a lot. She and I don’t like your father any more than you do. In a perfect world, this little relationship you and I have could be more of an alliance than anything. And the boy your father hired? Don’t worry about him. He’s head over heels for you. I figure we’ll send him along to keep you company.”
What did he mean? Who worked for her father? Nicolo, maybe, but he felt too genuine to lie. She wanted to close her eyes and think things through, but Artemis kept talking. This man seemed incapable of shutting up.
“You are a tricky girl, Avira. I’m so impressed with how far you’ve made it all on your own. But don’t you think it’s time to be a part of something just a little bit bigger?”
Avira didn’t have time to respond or even think about what he was saying before the doors to the cabin flew open. This seemed to surprise even Artemis, who whipped his head sideways, scowling for a moment before his face finally dissolved into a despicable smile.
“Well, if it isn’t the Queen herself.” Artemis stood and strode across the room towards the door. Avira tried to take in the scene.
Standing in front of her was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. Her skin was the color of cinnamon, like Matteo’s. Her hair was braided with jewels and strands of pure silver woven into it. The braids fell on top of one another and ran across her forehead before being tucked under what looked like a gigantic silvery blue scarf that covered much of her body. The woman had a silver ring in her nose with a chain that stretched up to her ear where a sapphire was fastened as a sort of earring. Her eyes were the size of walnuts and a color she’d only seen once before. She looked strikingly like Matteo.
The woman wore no crown, but her blue gown and precious jewelry made it clear enough to anyone that she was a Queen. And not a broke noblewoman who’d burned all their money on liquor like Avira was so used to seeing in Alvanii. This woman seeped power from every pore. But most glorious of all were the two swords, one fastened to each of her hips. They glinted as though they’d been sharpened just moments before. The woman took Artemis in her arms.
“Artemis Cascella, you scoundrel.” Though her words were harsh, she sounded as loving as a mother with a child. Her voice was thick with an accent Avira couldn’t quite place. “And this must be the Bianco girl, yes?” Adipe didn’t wait for a response. “She is beautiful, Artemis. You didn’t tell me she was beautiful, far prettier in person than in her portraits.” And with a glance at Avira, she added gently, “I love your haircut, darling.”
Artemis and Adipe began conversing quickly in a language Avira didn’t recognize. They seemed excited. Every few sentences, they paused to look at Avira and then promptly returned to the conversation at hand.
Behind Adipe stood two women in dark blue drapings. They each held a long staff with a sharp silver blade at the end. Half of their faces were covered with sheer veils. Only their eyes peeked out. Avira couldn’t be sure, but she thought that, from the way the two women’s gazes were fixed, they couldn’t understand what Artemis and Adipe were saying to each other. They must have been speaking in the noble dialect of Shaheeni then. Avira was surprised that royal guards weren’t taught it.
Adipe took another glance towards Avira, looking her up and down.
“She’s so young, Artemis,” Adipe said, switching for just a moment to words Avira could understand. Artemis just gave a stubborn shrug.
“Girl,” Adipe called to her. “How old are you?”
“Nearly seventeen.”
Adipe clicked her tongue and shook her head from side to side in response.
“It’s the best we’ve got isn’t it?” The woman said.
Avira felt a rage explode within her. “Will one of you please explain to me what is going on? If I am to be some chess piece, then I deserve an explanation as to how.” She was shouting, but her voice kept cracking, revealing the fear that had twisted up within her.
“Oh, I am so sorry, my lady,” Artemis cooed, almost sarcastically. “Did I offend? Would you like me to start at the beginning?”
“Yes,” she said firmly, trying to hold her ground.
“Once upon a time,” he started, triggering a round of giggles in Adipe and her guards.
“I am serious.”
“I can tell.”
“Artemis,” Adipe interjected, “don’t patronize her.”
“You ruin my fun, Adipe. See, Avira, I’ve known who you were since you set foot on this ship. I assigned you to the kitchen because Diego, my oldest friend, was the only one I trusted to keep an eye on you.”
“Diego knows?” Avira thought back through every one of their exchanges. He hadn’t shown a single sign of knowing her real identity, not even when drunk. Perhaps the intoxication was all an act too.
“Of course, Diego knew, as did my bodyguard, Malvolio.”
“What about Matteo?”
“You’ll have to ask your father about that. He came looking for you days after you showed up. Sweet boy, don’t you think?”
It took Avira a moment to piece together the complete puzzle. Her father must have hired Matteo. He didn’t care for her at all; he was a henchman. The tears were falling now, making slow rivers down each cheek.
