Chapter Text
Pain lanced through Lea's chest. Her heart stuttered. Each step, each thrust of her blade, tightened the Petrification Disease's vice grip around her organs.
Not now! she screamed at her own body. Not when I'm so close!
Arlecchino's sawblades lashed out like striking vipers. She ducked away from one and deflected the other in a dazzling shower of sparks. Her shoulder revolted under the strain. Numbness shot down her arm, her fingers nearly slackening on her sword's hilt, while the cold sweat of nausea skittered up the back of her neck.
She reeled back and coughed a wheezing breath into her gloved hand. Bright red blood flecked with bluish-gray spittle stained the supple white leather. Her eyes began to drift to the trellis at the back of the garden, but she ripped her attention back to the fight. A moment's loss of focus was not one she could afford, even as the strange gray-haired Stalker slammed into Arlecchino's side with the force of rabid dog.
Arlecchino hissed and groaned at the intrusion, but he couldn't ignore the flurry of well-placed blows descending upon him. The Stalker pressed his attack with expressionless persistence, slashing at the weak point at the puppet's knees and elbows. It would have been a good technique for any other automaton, but Arlecchino was too aware to allow such an obvious strategy.
He feinted to draw the Stalker's blade in, then hooked his bladed hand under the Stalker's hilt and twisted. The Stalker's arm bent well past the limit of either its shoulder or elbow joints, though he didn't cry out or even whimper. Arlecchino cackled as he raised his other scythe for the killing blow.
Gritting her teeth and slapping a modicum of sensation back into her sword arm, Lea exploded into action. She whipped the Rose Sword up in a crescent arc, aiming for the middle of the scythe's curve. The combined momentum of their opposing attacks rent the tip of Arlecchino's blade from his body and sent it careening into the snow as useless scrap metal.
She pivoted on a needlepoint, pouring all her strength into a single downward stab straight into his fetid, corrupted heart. It should have struck true. It should have been faster than anyone—or anything—could have reacted, either to block or evade. But where she expected steel, she met only air.
Missing so completely threw her off-balance, and she teetered forward. The jagged edge of a ruined scythe tore through her shoulder. The Stalker returned the favor of her rescue and knocked the blade off before it cut clean through.
She fell to her knees, both from the force of the hit and the searing agony blooming across the wound. Whatever Arlecchino's red aura was, it felt like acid had chewed through her skin and dripped onto the exposed bone. Dark spots swam across her vision as her lungs struggled to keep pace. It hardly mattered. She'd already been fighting blind for a while, the Rose Garden melting into a grim watercolor of red and white through the disease's haze.
Arlecchino hopped back. "Lucky, lucky, Lady Lea," he chuckled to himself.
She hated to admit how right he was. That hit should have cleaved her sword arm from her body, if not for the mysterious Stalker. He stood over her, weapon at the ready, but even his almost machine-like vigor seemed to be waning.
This was it. Their final push. If they couldn't rally now, all would be lost.
Her lungs contracted, and she spewed more blue bile and blood into the crimson pool beneath her. As her own blood mingled with and dispersed into that of the Rose Estate, Lea staggered to her feet and drew up her sword in front of her.
Arlecchino sloshed toward them with the unhurried confidence of a predator with its jaws already clamped around its prey's throat. Maybe that was true. Maybe they had already lost. But Lea wouldn't go down without fighting to her last breath. She owed it to the students of the Estate who died long before their time, to Romeo who might still be alive despite all odds, and to Carlo who she wouldn't fail again.
Never again.
She launched herself into a final assault. Her blade flew from strike to strike, though few made contact with Arlecchino's frame. A deep, guttural growl of frustration bubbled up from inside her. She was the Legendary fucking Stalker, whatever the hell that meant. She could kill one puppet, no matter how deranged or augmented.
A low whine emanated from deep in Arlecchino's core, only barely audible at first but building fast. Another wave of blood-gorged Ergo. She could take it, as could the Stalker. They'd survived his first assault in this new form.
Her heart dropped as she noticed out of the corner of her eye where they were. Arlecchino had let them come at him while he had inched further and further back toward the garden's far edge. Far enough that an attack like that would catch Romeo, limp and defenseless, in its radius.
Never again, she told herself again. She would never allow someone she loved to be hurt ever again.
Almost as though he had read her mind, the gray-haired Stalker wheeled back on his heels in tandem with Lea. They had to pull Arlecchino back to the center of the garden before his core reached critical mass.
Arlecchino wheezed a laugh. Lea's eyes widened. Still mid-step, she couldn't bring her sword up in time to stop the scythe's edge from ripping through her throat.
Her hand shot up instinctively to stem the tide, but the cut was deep and final. She stumbled, then crashed backwards into the snow. The Rose Sword fell to the ground next to her with a pathetic thump.
He had known they would do that. He had lured them back there because he knew they would prioritize Romeo's safety over their own. It seemed obvious now, lying in a growing pool of her own blood.
Of all her many regrets, she could not find it in her to regret that. If she had fought with the reckless abandon of her youth, she might have emerged victorious. But at what cost? What was she fighting for if Romeo was an acceptable loss? Though she regretted that she had once again failed her apprentice, at least she would die having done everything in her power to save him.
Arlecchino's taunts grew muffled through the rapidly descending veil of death. The black dots dancing before her eyes morphed and grew. With the last of her strength, she turned her head, hoping to see the strange Stalker standing. Then there would be hope that her death hadn't been entirely in vain.
He laid a few feet from her, twitching and writhing in his own death throes. Where Arlecchino's blade had sliced him clean through, his midsection sparked, not bled. A puppet… That certainly explained a few things while raising many other questions. Surely, there was an explanation for why a puppet was fighting another puppet, but Lea couldn't muster the strength to care. He had fought valiantly to save Romeo and that was enough for her.
The world descended into darkness. The leaden heaviness of her limbs fell away into a numb weightlessness. She was slipping away, along with any chance of saving Romeo.
Please, she pleaded with any god or angel or star that would listen. Please save him. I don't want him to suffer ever again. Never again.
Never…
Sound returned first. A lark chirped a cheerful tune somewhere above her. Wind rustled the boughs of a tree laden with leaves. In the distance, someone laughed, carefree and jovial.
Darkness gave way to soft grays, then bright white as dappled light flickered across her eyelids. Her body felt heavy again, no longer floating in the space between life and death, but neither did it feel burdened by the choking pressure of the Petrification Disease. She flexed her fingers and found that, past the numbness, it required almost no effort at all.
Hesitantly, she cracked an eye open, but quickly shut it against the blinding sun. Trying again, she shielded herself with a hand and blinked until the scene came into focus before her.
Colibri Park bustled with activity. Families strolled along the paved paths. Couples floated lazily in gondolas along the pond's glass-like surface, stealing kisses under the bridge where they thought no one else could see them. Children traipsed through the grass and flowers to catch insects or each other.
The sight nearly stole her breath. She hadn't seen Krat like this in so long. Though it was perhaps more accurate to say she hadn't seen anything so clearly since the disease had begun its slow theft of her sight. Between that and the cold snap, the park's greens and pinks and blues seemed positively gaudy.
She sat up, pushing off from the tree she had been napping against. It must have been just past noon, as the sun was still high in the cloudless sky but already leaning west. The sweat beading on her brow and the airy clothing of passersby indicated that it was summer.
One question loomed over the pleasant scene. How did she go from bleeding out in the snow to napping in the summer sun?
She thought, for a moment, that she must be dead. If heaven existed, then this could be it for her. But the roughness of the bark, the warm breeze on her face, it all felt so real. In fact, the longer she sat there, the more real it felt and the less tangible the battle became.
Could that have truly been a dream? Years of misery and tragedy, all concocted by her subconscious mind and played out over the course of a few minutes as she dozed in the shade? It didn't seem possible, and yet here she was. A body unmarred by either Arlecchino's blades or the Petrification Disease. A city healthy and thriving.
The rhythmic thump of footsteps on grass drew her attention behind her. Her hand fell to her hip but found no hilt. Icy panic climbing in her throat, she looked around only to find her sword laying, still sheathed, on top of her coat. On her other side, two other jackets sat in a crumpled heap on the grass.
A figure crested the top of the hill, red-faced and breathing heavily. His flaxen hair shone in the afternoon sun as he jogged toward the shaded copse. Stopping just before Lea, he clasped his hands behind his head and gulped several lungfuls of fresh air.
"First," Romeo wheezed.
Romeo. Alive and well and all in one piece. His cheeks were a bit rounder, hair a little shorter, shoulders less broad, but it was him all the same. She couldn't explain how she was suddenly staring at a younger version of her apprentice, but she had no desire to question it either.
The only thing she wanted was to throw her arms around him, to feel his blood pulsing through his veins rather than staining the Rose Estate's stone. Before she had the chance to stand, another figure trotted up beside Romeo. Lea was glad, then, that she was still sitting because she would have collapsed otherwise.
Huffing and puffing and cursing up a storm, Carlo ground to a halt next to Romeo. He doubled over, supporting himself with his hands on his knees.
"That's not fair," he whined through heaving breaths.
Romeo laughed, a sound that made Lea's heart flutter. "What's not fair? That you have short little legs?"
Carlo shot him a withering look. "No, that you're freakishly tall. Normal people don't stand a chance." He turned an equally sour expression onto Lea. "And were you seriously napping while— Are you alright?"
Tears slipped down Lea's face. She sprang up and pulled him into a rib-crushing hug. Despite his groans of protestation and the sweat plastering his shirt to his skin, she buried her face in the crook of his neck and let out a shuddering sob.
Carlo, her dearest Carlo, alive and here in her arms. A cascade of emotions flowed through her all at once. Elation, guilt, relief, and a whole host of other conflicting feelings muddled together into a confusing jumble. The only thing she knew was that she didn't ever want to let him go again. She squeezed him tighter, eliciting a soft oomph. His hands rested hesitantly on her back.
"Hey, who died?" Romeo asked jokingly, though an undercurrent of worry ran through his words.
Lea loosened her grip but didn't back away. Instead, she tucked Carlo's damp dark hair behind his ears and cupped his cheeks. Warmth radiated from his skin, and not just from the exertion. The gentle glow of life filled him fit to bursting. This, to Lea, seemed far more real, more true, than the frigid, waxy corpse she'd held far beneath the earth's surface.
Carlo smiled back at her, crooked and charming but unsure of this bizarre situation.
"No one," she finally replied. "No one died. I'm just happy to see you. Both of you."
"We've only been gone an hour," Carlo said. He shrugged out of her embrace and retrieved a canteen hung on a low branch. "So, are we still practicing disarming today? Because I need a minute."
Already the strangeness of her outburst washed off of him like water off a duck's back. The mutability of youth was enviable. Though, Lea supposed, an unexpected show of affection was more welcome to Carlo than to many others simply due to the deficit of such things from his father. Carlo himself was prone to random acts of kindness and outpourings of emotions for the very same reason.
Lea clapped her hands together. "We can practice swordplay another day. I have a much better idea."
Ten minutes later, they were all basking in the frigid glory of Bellamy's Ice Cream Parlor. It was small shop about a block north of Colibri Park and, in Lea's opinion, one of the city's best kept secrets. Though its proximity to the park provided the shop with a steady stream of customers, the horde of fashionable ladies and gentlemen hadn't yet descended upon it like vultures to carrion. This was due mostly to Bellamy's never having been featured in Rousseau's food column, which dictated trends with an iron fist.
Today, Bellamy's was moderately busy. Two young woman chatted at one of the iron latticework tables outside while a mother wrangled her three children with the help of a nanny puppet inside. Taking advantage of the wait, Romeo and Carlo pressed themselves up against the glass case to let it leach the heat from their bodies and view the various flavors.
Romeo, ever the pragmatist, opted for a scoop of vanilla but, after some gentle ribbing, added fresh strawberries. In sharp contrast, Carlo ordered a decadent chocolate sundae, complete with hot fudge, whipped cream, and a cherry. Lea landed somewhere between them, favoring the freshness of a scoop of orange swirl.
They took their treat outside, shaded by one of the blue and white striped umbrellas mounted on the shop's tables. Carlo wolfed his down with a ferocity only a teenage boy could muster and which turned Lea's stomach to imagine eating that much. How banal, how perfectly ordinary, it felt to sit there listening to the distant click of hooves on cobblestone and worry only that Carlo would be ill tomorrow from overindulgence. The thought made her smile.
When Carlo finished, he dropped his spoon into the glass bowl with a satisfied clink. "So, was this a test or do we actually have the rest of the day off?"
"If this were a test," she drawled, "you would have failed. But no, it wasn't. You're free for the day. Why, do you have plans?"
He scrunched his nose in a way that sent a pang through Lea's heart. God, she had missed him. "Antonia is always asking me to come over, so I thought I'd stop in for tea."
Antonia Cerasani. Another person Lea hadn't seen in quite some time, though not because some horrific fate had befallen her. After Carlo's death, society lost whatever scrap of appeal it still held for Lea. She still attended the odd event here and there—mostly for Romeo's sake, who didn't deserve to be cooped up inside their small apartment on her account—but not since she'd caught the Petrification Disease.
"Why don't we all call on her for dinner? I'm sure she'd love to have us."
"If that's the plan," Romeo said, sitting back in his chair, "then I need a bath first. And a nap, maybe."
"Tired already?" Carlo teased. "We only ran around the entire city."
Romeo rolled his eyes, but his smile betrayed his amusement. "No, I just know how you get at dinner parties. I'll need my rest to haul your drunken self to bed."
"Hey! That was one time!"
"And that house plant will never forget it."
Carlo flicked his cherry stem at Romeo.
"Alright," Lea interjected before they got too rowdy. "We'd better head home then. I need to ring Antonia, and we all need to freshen up a bit before stepping foot near the Cerasani household."
"Yes, Lea," they said in unison. Though they grumbled a bit, they collected their coats and weapons and left the dishes to the busboy. That was another reason Lea preferred Bellamy's over every other ice cream parlor—no puppets.
Lea's apartment, now shared by the three of them, was located south of Colibri. Instead of taking the main roads crammed with people and carriages, they cut through the park again. Lengthening shadows striped the lawn with the afternoon's waning light. Most of the families had either left or were in the process of packing their picnic baskets and carrying groggy children home for a late afternoon respite. Even with fewer people, the park teemed with life in its swaying flowers and buzzing insects.
As soon as Lea unlocked the door, both boys barreled past her to claim the bathtub first. Carlo emerged victorious this time, leaving Romeo to prepare afternoon tea. The kettle began to boil as Lea dialed Antonia's number.
The telephone had been a gift from Sophia, who had insisted on it to keep in touch after Lea had moved out of the Rose Estate. Besides a few calls to her sister, it had, for the most part, remained decorative since domestic telephones were still few and far between. That hadn't stopped Carlo's wistful looks at it as he waited for a call that would never come.
Antonia's cheerful voice crackled through the receiver after the third ring. She was, of course, delighted to host the three of them that evening. Not only did she wish to see them, but they were also perfect to round out her half-assembled party.
By the time Lea hung up, Romeo had finished pouring the tea. They chatted amiably about nothing in particular, Lea happy simply to bask in the rays of his presence, until Carlo emerged in a cloud of steam. Romeo scampered off to bathe, and Carlo replaced him at the table to take own tea. Once Romeo had finished scouring the day's grime off too, they both retired to their cramped bedroom opposite Lea's to preen and fuss over each other.
Lea slipped into the bathroom and filled the tub. Predictably, the water ran ice cold. It had been enough for her when she'd moved in that the building had running water that was often hot. Her apprentices burned through hot water like they'd never see it again. She might have been angry about that, once, but now she rolled her eyes fondly as she climbed into the frigid water.
A few hours after they had arrived home and after copious amounts of bathing, brushing, lacing, and buttoning, they descended the stairs to meet a carriage. Light still lingered in the sky, filtering through the gossamer clouds and glinting off shop windows and passing coaches. The sun likely wouldn't set until they'd already sat down to eat. It was those precious extra hours of light that Lea missed most during Krat's winters.
The city melted away as the carriage conveyed them to the Cerasani summer home. It seemed like years since Lea had been there last, but she reminded herself that the other world—the world of death and disease—had been nothing but a nightmare. Though she couldn't remember exactly when, she was sure she'd visited Antonia recently. Her lapse in memory was nothing but a temporary confusion brought on by the disturbing nature of that dream.
Carlo and Romeo chattered between themselves, fingers intertwined and lips nearly touching. Lea often felt like a spare watching those two. They had something that she'd never been able to find. Not really, anyway. Dalliances were different than the easy yet stalwart devotion present in Carlo's soft gaze and the necklace hanging from Romeo's throat.
As the coach clattered to a stop at the top of the drive, Romeo adjusted his cuffs and smoothed a loose lock of hair back into place. If he had been born Romeo Monad or Romeo Cerasani, the young ladies out for their first season would have clawed each other's eyes out just for a chance to flutter their eyelashes at him. Carlo too had a roguish, impish charm that would have driven girls mad had he shown anything but utter disdain for courtship.
The boys exited first, then offered her a hand down which she appreciated greatly. She was by no means uncoordinated, but the weight of an evening gown's beaded train was quite different from her Stalker gear.
Antonia's automated butler, Polendina, greeted them at the front door and ushered them inside with a mechanical sweep of the arm. The Cerasani household was a grand one. Its foyer dripped with antique elegance from the gilded coats of arms lining the walls to its gleaming marble floors. It was the exact type of place Lea would usually hate, except it was home to one of the kindest people in Krat.
The clicking of heels echoing through the vaulted chamber announced her presence. "Lea, my dear, I haven't seen you in quite some time. I'd grown worried, you know," Antonia said as she approached. The grace of her gait gave the appearance of gliding across the polished floor.
"Well," Lea replied, "I'm not dead yet."
Antonia took her hands. "Oh, not about that. Nothing so grim. I was merely worried you'd forgotten how to use that telephone I know you have installed."
Lea flushed bright crimson. Her apprentices, the traitors, snickered behind her. She attempted to stammer out an explanation, but Antonia simply pressed a kiss to her cheek and breezed past her.
"Ah Romeo, either you're still growing taller or I'm shrinking," she said with a chuckle.
He leaned down to receive the same greeting Lea had. "Lady Antonia, always a pleasure."
Finally, she turned to Carlo. Cupping his cheeks in her hands, she looked him over with nothing but dazzling adoration in her eyes. "My darling boy," she said before kissing him on both sides of his face. "You laugh at your mentor, but I've not heard a peep from you either. You are perfectly capable of calling me too. Unless you've disassembled that telephone as you did my cuckoo clock when you were a boy. Even still, you could write me."
It was Carlo's turn to blush. "Antonia! I put it back together," he protested.
"Yes, eventually." She slid her hands down to clasp him at the elbow. "Shall we? I'd hate to keep my other guests waiting."
Lea threaded her arm through Romeo's, who smiled and squeezed her hand. She wasn't sure if he was comforting her or himself. This sort of event, with its casual extravagance, set him on edge. No matter how well the Rose Estate cared for him or how many dinner parties he attended, the specter of hunger would always haunt him. Lea understood, but it still pained her to see it in him.
Four other guests waited in the drawing room. A man and a young woman shared the divan. They must have been siblings, as they shared the same olive skin, glossy black hair, and sloping nose. Another young man, probably around Carlo and Romeo's age, stood with a drink in hand, examining a landscape painting. The last guest sat with her back to the door, but Lea recognized her husky voice and the faint scent of ink.
As they entered, the man on the couch stood and said, "Leave it to Lady Cerasani to fill out a party with the Legendary Stalker herself."
Lea clenched her jaw. "You have me at a disadvantage."
"The Honorable Mr. Taddeo Savelli," Antonia said from behind her, "and his darling sister, Mariella. I've known their father quite some time."
Behind Taddeo, Mariella rose to her feet. Her sumptuous yellow gown swirled around her ankles, its golden beads softly rattling. She looked of an age to make her formal debut into society, and Lea had no doubt it would be a successful one.
"Forgive my brother, he often speaks without thinking." Her voice was smooth and cool with a glimmer of mirth.
"It's alright. He's hardly the first to call me that." Nor would he be the last, regardless of how Lea felt about her acquired moniker.
"Well, I have no doubt," Antonia continued, "that you all know Lea, but let me introduce her apprentices, Romeo and Carlo, who is also my godson. Romeo, Carlo, these are the Savellis—as I said—Ms. Esme Tulard, and Lord Bastien de la Roche."
Esme twisted in her chair to look them over. A snide comment formed on her lips, but Carlo beat her to it.
"Bastien de la Roche? Bas? I haven't seen you in ages."
The young man smiled. "I wasn't sure you'd remember. We were both so little back then."
Carlo slipped out of Antonia's grasp to cross the room. He caught Romeo's arm as he passed, and Lea acquiesced.
"Romeo, you have to meet him. Bas was my playmate before I was sent to the Rose Estate. His family owns a literal gold mine. Isn't that the richest thing you've ever heard?"
The boys jabbered on about schooling and weapons and a great many other things in rapid succession. Eventually, Ms. Mariella wandered over to join them, to escape her brother if nothing else.
Lea blinked back tears as she listened to the four of them talk and laugh. Romeo's deep, mellow voice balanced Carlo's erratic cadence in a perfect duet. The thought of them separated, mutilated, dead was almost too much to bear. It didn't matter if that other time had just been a nightmare concocted from her deepest fears. She would protect them both, here in this world, so they could continue to be as carefree as they were in that moment.
Esme tapped the back of her chair with her hand fan. "You know, Lea, I've read all sorts of torrid rumors about you and those boys."
Lea balled her fists so tightly she could feel her nails digging into her palms through her satin gloves. "Oh? And do you believe everything your company publishes?"
She laughed, a low, breathy sound. The string of pearls in her hair swayed with the movement. "Not my company, darling. We deal in literature, not salacious gossip. But to answer your question, no, I don't believe them. You're far too boring for a scandalous affair."
Lea rolled her eyes. "You should ask Lord Valentinus about how scandalous he thinks I am. Or Geppetto for that matter. That man wants to wring my neck, I swear."
"The price of forging your own path," she said as she snapped her fan open. "Some people would kill to have your bravery."
Lea didn't respond. She didn't have to. They both knew Esme was referring to herself. Back when they were both much younger, before Lea was the Legendary Stalker, they had both dreamed of joining the Tower. Then Esme's brothers perished at sea, leaving her the sole successor of the family name and business. Her parents didn't entertain any notions of becoming a Stalker after that, nor did Esme have the desire to forsake her family altogether.
Lea had no such compunctions.
Antonia clapped her hands together, gently but firmly drawing everyone's attention back to her. "Now that we're all acquainted, let us go through. Polendina has informed me dinner is ready."
They sauntered into the dining room like a pack of ravenous yet well-behaved wolves. Lea was seated at one of the table's ends, with Carlo to her left and Taddeo to her right. While Carlo was safely tucked away between her and Antonia, Romeo was stranded on the other side of the table between Ms. Tulard and Ms. Savelli. He shot a pleading look at Lea and Carlo, but even they were powerless in the face of Antonia's carefully crafted seating charts.
As it turned out, he needn't have worried. The evening was a relatively informal one. Conversation spanned the table, rather than remain confined within the bounds of one's partners to each side. Wine flowed, courses came and went, and finally the meal began to wind down.
"I suppose," Antonia said, "we should retire. We're only getting in the way here."
"Hold on," Lea interjected. "I have a better idea than playing bridge or sipping whiskey. Why don't you play for us?" She looked at Carlo who blinked back at her.
"Where did that come from?"
Lea downed the dregs of her wine. "It's been awhile since I've heard you play. I thought you might indulge me."
She had no idea how true that actually was. It might have only seemed like forever for her because of that damn dream. She'd lived a whole life from which Carlo, and any hope of hearing him play again, had long been absent. For all she knew, they could have played together last week here in reality. It was unlikely, though, since their apartment above the tailor shop was far too small to jam a piano into. If Carlo wanted to play, he had to visit Antonia or the Rose Estate, both of which he was unlikely to do on any given day.
"I think that's a wonderful idea," Antonia chimed in. "A bit of dancing helps settle a large meal, and I never get to hear you play anymore."
Carlo cocked his head as though debating his options, but a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Alright, if it's what the people want, I have no choice."
They filed out of the dining room, leaving the staff to clear away the dishes, and made their way to the salon where Antonia kept her grand piano. During the day, sunlight streamed through the wide windows. At night, the same windows became dark mirrors in the light of the incandescent bulbs. Anything could be beyond the room's walls and she wouldn't know it unless she pressed her face to the glass and shielded her eyes. A chill shot down her spine. She wasn't scared of most things, but she didn't enjoy the thought of being watched.
Carlo plopped down on the piano bench, stretching his neck and shaking out his wrists. He played a few scales, whether to check if the instrument was tuned or to reacquaint himself with the keys, Lea did not know.
No sheet music laid on the stand, nor did he look for any. He didn't need it. When he wasn't improvising new melodies, Carlo possessed the uncanny ability to replicate any piece he'd heard near perfectly. It was a sign of true genius in Lea's opinion, though he hardly ever used it for anything besides making the other students shriek with laughter over lewd parodies of popular songs.
He launched into a quick rhythm, fit more for a two-step than a traditional waltz or quadrille. Mariella clapped in delight, and Bastien swept her onto the floor. Taddeo tutted his disapproval but changed his tune when Esme offered him her own hand.
"Oh, no need to be polite," Antonia said with a pat on Romeo's shoulder. "Dance with your mentor, and come find me when there's a waltz." With that, she found a seat on one of the couches against the wall.
Romeo turned to Lea and held out his hand. She hesitated. Sweat prickled her palms, and her mouth ran dry. Images of his hands dangling from the Rose Estate's ceiling, pale and bloody, sprung unbidden into her mind. They'd been so cold when she'd pressed them to her forehead. When she'd begged for forgiveness and mourned her failures and resolved to rip out that damn puppet's heart all at once.
She thought she might be sick right there on Antonia's imported tile floor, but she forced the bile down with a smile and took his hand. He led her out, and they fell into step with the other couples.
"Are you alright?" Romeo asked her after a few turns. His voice was low enough that no one besides Lea could hear him over the music.
"Of course I am. Why do you ask?"
His brows knitted together in a worried frown. Lea hated when he did that.
She and Carlo had tempers like gunpowder. They flared up quickly, bright and hot, but died down just as fast. Romeo, on the other hand, was quiet and inscrutable. She'd never seen him truly angry, or she hadn't known it if she had. Instead, he would fix her with a look somewhere between hurt and disappointment, and she would feel like a foolish little girl again.
"I'll be fine," she conceded under his stare.
"You seemed quite shaken at the park. You hugged Carlo like he'd just returned from war, not a jog around town."
He spun her out and released her into the center of the floor. The loss of contact felt like suffocation, like the Petrification Disease squeezing the air from her lungs. She hurried by the other dancers, though no one seemed to mind how wildly off-beat she was. They came back together on the opposite side of the floor, and she clutched at him. Her heart slowed as she felt his pulse thrum beneath her fingers.
"I imagined something awful had befallen both of you and it frightened me, that's all. It's silly. It shouldn't have affected me as much as it has."
"It's not silly," he said softly. "If you ever want to talk about—"
"Romeo," she cut him off. "You don't need to worry. It's my job to worry about and protect you." She smirked at him. "I am the Legendary Stalker, after all. I can handle it."
His frown melted into a grin. "You hate that name."
"Yes, well, it is a bit gaudy, isn't it? That's probably why the Honorable Mr. Savelli relishes in saying it. He's probably got embroidered drawers too."
They both snickered like schoolchildren.
"That's nothing compared to Lord Gold Mine over there. Any one of his rings could pay the entire Malum District's rent for a month."
Lea hummed. "Am I detecting a hint of jealousy, my dear apprentice?"
He colored crimson. "No, I—That's not what I meant!"
"I don't think you have anything to fear," she cooed. "Carlo isn't the type to marry for money."
Lea laughed as Romeo stammered out an explanation. Again she felt that this was right. This was how it was meant to be, dancing with Romeo and listening to Carlo hammer away at the keys, instead of chasing after their corpses.
The impromptu party lasted well into the night. Lea had danced several two-steps and a few waltz before the siblings announced their intention to retire for the night. Carlo attempted to protest—saying he'd only made it through a small portion of his repertoire—but interrupted himself with a yawn that told Lea it was time for them to head home too.
Just after midnight, they exited the front door as the driver pulled the carriage around. Antonia pulled Lea into a hug and kissed Carlo on the forehead while insisting that they should visit more often. Once Carlo had promised to at least write every so often, she bid them a good night and went back inside.
Esme stepped forward then, out of the shadow of the great house and next to Lea. Her black and white beaded dress was swathed in a plum-colored shawl, which she wrapped tighter around her shoulders to ward off the night's chill.
"It was nice seeing you again," she said to Lea.
Romeo had already climbed into the coach, pulling Carlo after him. Lea couldn't see them inside the darkened cab, but the sound of them murmuring back and forth calmed her.
"You too. I can't remember the last time we talked."
Esme smiled sadly. "I do. Rarely a day goes by without me thinking of it." She dug the toe of her boot into the drive's gravel. "You don't need me to tell you this, but take care of those boys. They're lucky to have you."
"I intend to," Lea said. Her voice was as hard and sharp as steel.
"Woe to anyone who crosses you, Lea Florence Monad." She leaned forward and planted a chaste kiss on Lea's cheek.
Lea's chest tightened. Not with fear, but with longing. If things had turned out differently, that kiss might have been like the one they shared so long ago in the darkened gardens of the Rose Estate. That one was quick and fumbling but sweet with the scent of Esme's honeysuckle perfume. Perhaps if Esme's brothers had survived, she'd be climbing into the carriage alongside Lea, so that Lea could breathe in that heady aroma all night. But Lea couldn't change the past, could she? What was done, was done.
The distant snap of a twig brought her out of her reverie. It had been a little ways off, just past the treeline bordering Antonia's property. It could have been any number of nocturnal creature, hunting for its next meal while the rest of the world slumbered. She could have believed that—wanted to, in fact—if it weren't for the nagging feeling of being watched.
Lea gazed into the darkness. Leaf-laden branches shifted in the breeze. With the light streaming from the house's windows behind her, her eyes could not fully adjust to the darkness, and all she could make out were flitting amorphous shadows. Even if she couldn't see it, something was out there. It stared back at her as surely as she stared at it.
"Lea, come on!" Carlo called from the carriage. He had poked his head out around the side and was resting an arm on the open door. "Romeo is complaining about it being past his bedtime like he's a grandpa."
Romeo muttered something Lea couldn't hear. Carlo obviously could because he retreated back inside with an offended gasp.
Lea took one last look at the treeline, but the forest remained the same enigmatic void. The feeling had lessened, though not entirely vanished. Perhaps whatever, or whoever, it was had fled upon scrutiny.
Her mind snagged on a vision of Arlecchino, blades slick with blood, watching and waiting for his revenge. She pushed that away. It wasn't possible. She had destroyed that wretched puppet years ago, and no one in their right mind would actually want to rebuild that murderous fiend.
She climbed the carriage's steps and slammed the door behind her.
Dawn broke, painting golds and pinks and oranges across her bedroom wall, and Lea awoke to the same world. A part of her had expected this to be a dream or hallucination, a desperate fantasy concocted by her dying brain as she bled out in the Rose Garden, that would fade the next time she closed her eyes. But she was still here, and more importantly, so were the boys.
Romeo shuffled around the small kitchen to fix breakfast. He closed each cabinet door softly so as not to wake her and Carlo who were nowhere near the morning people he was. Lea smiled and rolled over, basking in the sounds of a completely ordinary morning.
The next few days were almost blissful. They trained in the mornings and afternoons, with an extended break at midday to escape the worst of the summer heat. The only black spot on those sun-drenched days was that same chill she'd felt outside of Antonia's house.
At first, she had tried to brush it off as a lingering symptom of her strange nightmare. The vision was still fresh in her mind, and so her mind conjured a threat where there were none. As the days wore on, its presence became more difficult to ignore. Harder still when she realized that Carlo, not she, was the object of their observation.
That revelation had come about when Lea had decided to confront the watcher once and for all, only to find the feeling gone once she had dismissed her charges. She'd tried to spend time with each of them one-on-one then, to narrow down who the true target was. Once she had, she made sure Carlo was never alone.
On the fifth day, after their evening training session, Lea dismissed Carlo and Romeo, saying she had several errands to run and not to wait up for her. They exchanged sly glances between them, which they somehow believed she would not see, and Lea knew they would be heading home and staying there for the rest of the night. Why, she refused to think about as their senior and mentor, but she could take advantage just this once.
Romeo and Carlo left the park one way while Lea headed in the other direction. When she reached the edge, she looped around to head south. The rooftops offered a clearer perspective and a path unobstructed by curious passersby, aside from the occasional surprised pigeon.
Her plan was to tail her apprentices at a distance where she might notice anyone else doing the same. The first step was to locate Carlo and Romeo again, which, to her dismay as a teacher, proved an easy task from her vantage point. They visited a stand selling fried fish, then a small pastry shop where Carlo purchased numerous confections—Lea envied the iron stomach of a teenager—before they began the trek home.
With the identity of the watcher still a mystery, she was at a disadvantage. Every man, woman, and puppet was a potential suspect, so she had to somehow keep an eye on everyone in the vicinity while scanning for others hiding in the shadows. Not for the first time, Lea was thankful that she hadn't taken up residence in one of the busier neighborhoods. The crowds thinned as the boys approached the apartment, making it more apparent if someone was indeed following them.
They turned a corner. Lea hopped over the narrow gap between tenement buildings. A flash of movement in the alleyway beneath caught her eye. Perching on the cornice, she peered down into the shadowy corridor.
They wore a black jacket and a mask like many of the Stalkers employed by the Tower tied around their gray hair. From her perspective, Lea couldn't make out what animal their mask represented. She didn't know every active Stalker personally, but a person's chosen—or assigned—animal could say a lot about which faction they belonged to and how dangerous they were. If they were a Sweeper looking to make some money, they could be scared off easily with a bit of rough handling. If they were a Bastard, however, she'd be paying a visit to either the Rose Estate or the Workshop Union.
She climbed down the side of the building to a lower ledge and positioned herself directly above the mysterious Stalker. Her sword barely made a sound as she slid it out of its scabbard. Gravity would do most of the work at this height, if she had wanted to plunge her blade through their throat and be done with it. Luckily for them, she had some questions for them.
She kicked off the windowsill and crashed down on their back, planting a boot directly between their shoulder blades. The Stalker buckled like a sack of potatoes and hit the ground with a dull clang. Without pausing, Lea hooked their right arm by the elbow and pulled, using the momentum to flip them off their stomach and onto their back.
The mask that stared back at her sent a different sort of chill down her spine. The spindly, creeping kind that turned her stomach and froze her blood. The vibrant blue butterfly atop a white base had been a gift from her to her sister, Sophia. She'd never worn it, of course, and it had decorated her bedroom wall ever since. Not only was this stranger following Carlo, they had violated Sophia's privacy too.
She jammed the Rose Sword against their throat and spat, "Who are you?"
A faint whining began to build, a sound she recognized as an electrical charge. The Stalker's left arm, the one not pinned beneath them, shook with the gathering current. Her right leg lashed out at the Legion arm's wrist. There was often an emergency release lever located in the mechanism's forearm, used to prevent damage to the prosthetic and wielder in case of malfunctions. Sure enough, her heel connected with the switch and the charge dissipated harmlessly into the air.
She grabbed the Stalker's lapels and slammed them into the ground, pressing her blade ever closer. "Do you take me for a fool? Who are you?" she demanded again. "Why are you following my apprentice? And what have you done to Sophia?" The words sounded desperate even to her, but she was powerless to stop them tumbling out.
They didn't react, didn't move. They just looked at her placidly through the unblinking eyes of the stolen mask.
White-hot anger flashed through her. How dare they threaten her loved ones? How dare they ruin everything she thought she had lost once before? Seizing the bottom edge of the mask, she yanked it up and off their face.
With one look, her anger melted into shock. She had expected to see a stranger, someone horrible and unknown and therefore easy to deal with however necessary. She hadn't expected Carlo.
But he wasn't Carlo, was he? Carlo didn't have long gray hair and freckles and eyes as blue as crystallized Ergo. He had his face, though. A bit rounder and softer, but unmistakeably Carlo's. It didn't seem possible—it wasn't possible—until something clicked in Lea's mind.
The dream. The fight. She hadn't faced Arlecchino alone. The Stalker whose face she hadn't seen clearly due to the Petrification Disease razing her eyesight. He had had gray hair, hadn't he? The Stalker who seemed so familiar, yet she couldn't put a finger on why. The Stalker who was very much real and not a figment of her lurid imagination.
The mask fell from her trembling fingers and clacked against the stone. She stood and backed away, drawing up her sword between them as though it would protect her. As though it would make any of it as false as she wished so desperately it had been.
She exhaled a shaky breath and whispered, "It's you."