Victoria had walked nearly all the way to the Passetto when she stopped. Had she closed the door to the storage chamber, where the shard was secreted?
She didn’t remember.
Just because the door was open didn’t mean that anyone would find the piece of obelisk…but it made her nervous to leave such important things unattended and open.
It just wasn’t safe.
She hesitated only a moment before turning to make the trip back to the little run-down building, moving at a more rapid pace than when she’d been walking away from it. If any of the few shopkeepers or pilgrims Victoria passed noticed a slender figure wrapped in a dark cloak walking back the way it had just come, they gave her no second look.
Urgency built in her chest. The shard might not be safe, and she couldn’t allow it to fall into anyone else’s hands if Akvan and Beauregard and Regalado were after it.
Perhaps she’d move it to a different place in the chamber. A locked chest? Or…
By this time Victoria was moving through the hidden passage behind the confessional in Santo Quirinus. She carefully stepped over the middle stair and moved silently along the short hall hung with icons, then pressed the intricate stonework that would reveal the spiral staircase.
The floor glided open without a sound, and Victoria hurried down the curling steps, driven to get to the storage chamber to check on the shard. Make certain it was safely in its dark corner.
Tomorrow she would tell Wayren about this, but—
Someone was standing at the fountain.
Dipping his fingers into the sparkling holy water, there in the dim light, looking down into the pool. Only one sconce lit the area, as it had when she’d left perhaps twenty minutes earlier, but she recognized him. Even from the back.
Impossible.
Yet…perhaps not.
He must have sensed her presence, for he turned, an uncharacteristic look of shock on his handsome face.
Victoria refused to allow him to see that he’d caught her off guard as well. Instead she stepped closer, noticing the way he clamped a wet hand over his bunched-up white shirt.
“And here I was planning to tear the city apart looking for you, when all I had to do was wait for you to show up. What are you doing here, Sebastian?”
Thirteen
In Which Our Heroine Divests a Gentleman of an Article of Clothing
A chagrined expression flashed over Sebastian’s face for an instant, then was masked. He stepped away from the fountain, his wet hand making a print on his light shirt. She noticed a dark coat hanging over a nearby chair.
“You returned much sooner than I anticipated,” he said, recovering quickly to summon a teasing smile. “I should perhaps have waited a bit longer before coming down here…but I can’t say that I’m terribly disappointed to have you alone at last. After all, last night in the dungeon with Maximilian was hardly—”“Give me an answer, Sebastian. ” Victoria’s heart was pounding, panic replacing bald shock as she realized what this must mean. Her mouth had dried; she felt it shrivel like a pea in the sun. Her fingers were shaking, and nausea curled in her belly. How could it be? “Tell me you didn’t bring your gr
andfather,” she said in a voice that didn’t belong to her, even as she tried to assimilate what Sebastian’s presence meant. He couldn’t have done.
The Consilium, the safe, secret sanctuary, had been found.
No. Not under her watch. Not after almost two millennia of secrecy.
No.
Victoria felt fear and anger—emotions she’d struggled to keep out of her mind—envelop her, clouding clear thought as she started to dash past Sebastian, desperate to get to the secret storage chamber—and to Wayren’s library—before they could be despoiled.
His teasing smile faded. “I’m here alone. ” His voice, urgent and low, stopped her. “I wouldn’t—”
The panic eased enough for her voice to be steady when she snapped, “You wouldn’t what? Infiltrate our sanctuary? How did you find out about this place? How?”
But no, of course Beauregard wasn’t here, she realized belatedly, her mind beginning to function again. She would have sensed him the moment she came into Santo Quirinus. That, at least, was good.
Sebastian was staring at her, his eyes shadowed by the dim light glowing behind tawny curls that made him look so absurdly holy. He seemed to be studying her, waiting for her to speak.