We reach the gardens of the Magnotto residence by way of a narrow trail branching off from the balcony to descend the bluff side. Behind us, a pair of servants follow bearing trays laden with food and wine, keeping a polite distance. The trail zigzags a bit, but then we turn a corner and the garden reveals itself in all its opulence.

Everything is arranged around a large central fountain made of stone. Four goddess statues stand watch over it, rows of potted flowers and other plants arranged in an orderly fashion around their feet. Between the fountain and the statues are pathways of red brick, one of them leading to a long couch placed next to a stone railing overlooking the bluff, and the city far below us. Torches burn in sconces placed close enough together to illuminate the whole garden, casting flickering shadows across all the foliage. It has the look of a villa in the open countryside, except for that city view.

Cyrus Cato turns to get a glimpse at our reactions to the sight of it all, an eyebrow turning up when he doesn’t catch us gawking. The gardens of the Imperial Palace are much, much nicer than this. Arcadia spent her childhood playing in them, or so I’m told. I didn’t come along until she was a shut-in adolescent.

“Beautiful, is it not?” he asks.

The question appears to startle Arcadia a bit, as if she’s realizing we have a deception to keep up. She smiles at Cyrus and nods. “It’s very nice, yes,” she says.

Cato's raised eyebrow remains for a few moments more before he shakes his head. "Difficult to impress, I see. Let’s carry on, perhaps there’s something here you’ll find interesting."

He gives Arcadia a suggestive smile then, and she smiles back innocently, appearing to miss the intent of it. It makes me laugh a little. Which, of course, gets his attention. He smiles at me next, a searching expression in his eyes. As if the riddle of us entertains him.

"What a fascinating pair you are."

I smirk. “You don’t know the half of it.”

I swear I’ve already said that this evening. Oh well.

He leads us into the garden, and as we pass by one of the statues he raises a hand toward it, with an index finger half-erect. "Do you know who made these? Faustio," he says with a pause, as if expecting to wow us again. "I introduced Belina to him personally."

I see a shade of that ‘politician smile’ on Arcadia’s face, but it’s livelier than usual, still aglow from the excitement earlier. “I’m afraid I don’t know much about famous sculptors,” she says, as we walk along.

“Well what do you know about, Arcadia the Sorceress?”

"I could recite much of recorded history,” says Arcadia. “I could speak of scientific advances, and how they might change our world. Or perhaps I could tell you forbidden secrets of the arcane that would leave you restless at night."

As Arcadia's speech ends, there's a subtle grin on her face, and a solidity to her eyes I can't quite decipher. As if she's attempting to present her words in jest, but in fact they’re actually serious. Cyrus Cato stares at her a moment, a puzzled smile on his face.

“That’s quite the field of interests you have. But I can’t help but wonder, where does such a beauty find all this time to study books? The boys must be beating down your door all day and night.”

We’ve made it across the garden to the couch, where Cyrus turns and eases himself into a seat. He reaches back and drapes an arm over it, pats the seat next to him with his other hand. She smiles and seats herself beside him. Seeing her comply to him like that sends a red-hot needle of jealousy through my chest, but at least it passes quickly.

"I spent most of my time at home away from others,” she says, and the smile she gives him is that goofy one I love. “I suppose I found the books better company than people, ha."

I take a seat at Arcadia’s other side, putting her between myself and Cyrus, and wave over the servant bearing the wine. I feel like I’ll need a little more to get through this. I shouldn’t feel this way, but my body doesn’t seem to care about rationality. She can’t possibly be impressed by his rank, she outranks every official in the empire except her parents. So what does this man have that I don’t have?

My mind finds the answer quickly. And I look away from them, to hide the blush on my face.

Luckily they don’t appear to notice. Cyrus does, however, notice the wine bearer serving me. “Ah, excellent idea,” he says, and once I have a goblet in my hand again, he waves the servant over to pour Arcadia and himself some as well.

Cyrus brings the cup to his lips, has a small taste of it, smiling in appreciation of its flavor as he turns his eyes toward Arcadia. “So why go to the trouble of learning all this?” he asks. “Just for the sake of it? Do you have some grander purpose? What is Arcadia the Sorceress all about, hm?”

Arcadia has to pause to consider the question. "I want a life of freedom, and traveling. And to be able to deal with anyone I meet on my own terms. Without arbitrary responsibilities and ceremony. And at some point, find a beautiful, quiet place to settle down and perhaps raise a family."

By the end of her answer, her gaze is off into space, with her eyebrows arched up and a subtle frown on her lips. Seeing it makes my heart a little heavier, because I think I know why she’s looking so forlorn. It’s the part about raising a family. Then I realize that if we are successful in our quest, she’ll surely want to do that. With someone who can father her children. If my heart was heavy a moment ago, now it’s a hunk of lead dropped into my stomach.

But Cyrus, who hasn’t stopped smiling since we came down here, remains quiet for a moment as he studies her expression. Then he shakes his head. “I think you’re wrong about one thing on that list,” he says. “The bit about ending up in a quiet place.”

Arcadia comes back to reality, and turns to face Cyrus, "Oh?"

He grins and nods. “I think destiny has greater things in store for you,” then he gestures at me, flashing his grin my way as well. “For both of you. Don’t ask me why I know, I just feel it.”

Arcadia laughs, "I hope not. Destiny's already been cruel enough to me."

Cyrus Cato’s brows draw together, and he cocks his head to the side. “Cruel? How? You have gifts few women possess. If anything I’d say the gods favor you.”

"Well, I'll say this much. Who you see before you today is the result of my struggle against the wishes of fate."

He’s quiet for a long moment, and his head is still canted to the side, eyes fixed on Arcadia. I can practically see his mind laboring to figure her out. Then he laughs abruptly and shakes his head. “You’re a real enigma, aren’t you?” he says, before turning his attention to me again. “What of you? Is your story as endlessly mysterious?”

“Sorry to disappoint,” I say. “I’m just a K’zar seeking her fortune in the wider world.”

He grins, raises a finger toward me. “You are a bad liar.”

Arcadia smirks at him, then at me, and just a glance at her expression tells me the wine is loosening her up. She stands, walks a pace or two and then twirls around, making her red cape flutter. I feel a gust of wind accompany it, see it pluck a single flower from a nearby bush. The flower turns and spins, as if caught in a vortex, as it floats into Arcadia’s outstretched hand. She turns to us, smiling mischievously as she holds out the flower for us to see.

“Everyone is a mystery, if you look deeply enough,” she says. Then she begins to twirl again, taking the first of a few measured steps of a formal dance. The flower leaves her hand and floats in our direction while she dances, but before it makes over to where we’re sitting, its petals all rip away from the center, as if plucked out by invisible fingers.

“But most people don’t even bother to look. They’re happy being what they’re told to be. Being what they see in the mirror. The notion that there’s more in there… It’s frightening. Like a dark lover. You never knew they were with you, but once you catch a glimpse of them out of the corner of your eye, you either look away in fear or you can never look away.”

Watching her play the mysterious witch makes me smile, not just because it’s a pleasure to observe her body in motion. Because she’s happy and relaxed. She’s having fun. I glance at Cyrus, find him looking about as charmed by her as I am. I feel a sizzle of jealousy when he stands up and takes her hand to dance with her, but a sip of wine helps with it. A little.

“I was about to do that,” I say.

Arcadia's wide eyes are on me suddenly, but her gaze is forced away a moment later. Cyrus places his other hand on the small of Arcadia’s back, making her giggle as he whirls her around, so he can fix me with a grin. “Oh don’t worry,” he says. “You’re next.”

Which calls for another mouthful of wine.

Watching them dance makes me begin to fidget again. I’m tap-tap-tapping my foot against the stone, having a small taste of wine every few moments, doing my best to look unbothered. Arcadia's movements are a little on the clumsy side. I’d assume she is familiar with this type of dancing, but it's probably been a long time. I imagine she was also taught to lead, which might be throwing her off.

Arcadia and Cyrus continue to circle each other, and it's graceful despite the errors. He whispers a few things he thinks I can’t hear, about how gifted a dancer she is, how she’s the loveliest young thing he’s ever seen, and etc. They make Arcadia laugh softly. It’s important for me to remember not to crush yet another goblet.

Then Cyrus pulls Arcadia close against his body and shifts her over his thigh, so she's forced to lean back, looking up at the sky. Her eyes go wide as he dips down. moving in toward her lips. I feel my stomach turn to lead, and my blood to ice, as I watch in horror.

But at the last moment, Arcadia's hand lands on his chest attempting to push him away, the gold and silver ring on her finger glinting in the torchlight, "Okay! I think I'm done."

Cyrus smiles seductively down at her. “But my dear Sorceress, we’ve only begun to dance.”

He puts his own hand over the one Arcadia placed on his chest, gives it a bit of a squeeze. He tries to move it off him, so as to close in for the kill again, but Arcadia doesn’t let him. Her wide-eyed look becomes a frown as they begin to struggle, and I’m on my feet and closing in before I even hear my forgotten goblet clatter against the stones.

She’s upright now, and he has her by her arms. I know he’ll overpower her in a moment, but before he can, she steels herself and fixes him with an icy glare.

“Enough!”

Her shout sends a raging gust of wind out from her body in every direction. The air whips our clothing and hair violently. My eyes close reflexively in surprise, but I force them open to find Cyrus staggering back, struggling to weather the torrent. Hundreds of leaves and flower petals blast away from us, any that were not strong enough to withstand the assault. I see a look of shock on Cyrus' face. As the wind dies a second later, I hear the faint clink of something metallic bouncing on the stone.

I tap Cyrus Cato on the shoulder. He turns around, catches my fist on his jaw. It breaks with a loud, wet pop as his unconscious body crumples to the stone.

With him out of the way, I look to Arcadia to see if she's alright. Except I don’t see her. I see a boy that looks like her.

Fuck. The ring came off.

Arcadia’s eyes are wide, her face pale as a sheet. She bolts to the ground, scrambling across it as her shaking hands search for the ring, until she finds it and slips it back onto her finger. The transformation is less flashy than before, her body shifting like water into her proper form. Her eyes look up at me for a brief moment, horror-struck, before she quickly averts her gaze downward.

The sound of porcelain shattering behind me gets my attention. I wheel around to see the servants, having dropped their trays, running back up the trail to the house.

"Guards!” the one in the lead shouts. “These two attacked the Praefecti!"

“Shit,” I turn back to Arcadia. “We need to leave. Now!’

Arcadia doesn’t hear me. She’s still on her knees, staring blankly at the stones, all the color in her face drained out. A few strides take me to the stone balcony so I can lean over it and see how badly it would hurt if we jumped.

It would hurt. A lot.

I can already hear the clanking of mail in the distance. I look to the right, see a gang of Magnotto household guards running down the trail toward us. Behind me, Arcadia is still catatonic.

“Arcadia!” I cry out.

She blinks, glances at the approaching guards, then at me. Our eyes meet, and when they do her gaze hardens.

She begins whispering frantically in her arcane language as she steps over to the fountain's water, and reaches in to begin stirring it with her hand. The entire thing becomes a whirlpool within moments, and it begins to steam. The steam blends with the cooler air of the garden, and thickens into a dense fog even my eyes have a hard time with. The only thing I can see through it is the scattered light of torches and candles going out one by one.

The guards would have been on us by now, if they could see. I feel one stumble past me in the dark mist, calling out for his fellows. Ahead of me I make out the vague outline of Arcadia, still knelt over the fountain. I stride toward her, reach out and take her by the hand.

She lets me pull her to her feet without resisting, and I lead her toward the balcony, one careful step at a time, pausing to let another guard pass without detecting us. I’m holding out my free hand, waving it ahead of me until I feel cold stone under my palm.

Then I swallow. Take a deep breath. Close my eyes, fold Arcadia safely into my embrace. And jump.

It hurts a lot. But I can take it.