Chapter 22

I can't get Destan's words out of my mind. With nothing to do to help The Order but paint, I am left alone with my thoughts for too many hours of the day.

Freedom. Freedom. Freedom.

The word echos in my head. A reminder of everything I hoped painting would bring me. I'm not free. Not yet. Before his death, Morel was grooming me to become a great painter in my own right. But he is gone too soon, and I am left to fight for my freedom on my own.

When I can't bear to think anymore, I tear open the remainder of Morel's final paintings and prop them up around my bedchamber. I sit on the floor before them and examine them for any hint at what Morel was up to in his final days. They are all strange, a muddle of blues and greens and golds. One painting is dotted with more gold than the others, and it draws my interest. The brightness dances across waves of black and blue...

Like light on the water.

My gaze flits between the other canvases. Are they all studies of water?

The paintings are so unlike Morel's that I don't know how to test my theory. Furthermore, did they have any connection to his desire to find the Fae? I wonder if there is perhaps a message left in the paintings for me. The more I look for something in his work, the more I feel like I'm trying to piece together the broken mind of a madman.

"Florette!"

My name makes me almost jump out of my skin.

Lavernia stands in my doorway, her face pinched with concern. "I didn't mean to scare you. I called your name three times."

I stand and brush the folds from my skirt. "D'ésolé. I was trying to aid your search for the gate. I wondered if Morel left any clues in his work."

Lavernia gives the paintings a wary glance. "Thank you for trying, but I don't know what you thought you could make of these."

"You're right," I say with a dry laugh. "I don't know what I thought,"

"You know who would love to try to analyze these?"

My pulse races. "Don't say it—"

"Destan." Lavernia cackles wickedly.

I threaten her with a glare. "Don't start."

She raises her hands in surrender. "Oh, if I had the time. But you're supposed to be dressed by now." She tosses something small and dark at me. I catch a sheer, black lace mask with green satin ties — a perfect match to my olive green ensemble for the Autumn Equinox masquerade. "Hurry, or we will miss our chance to get a partner for the first dance."

#

The air in the Hall of Mirrors is suffocating. The heat of so many bodies crushed into the space along with the cloying scent of fresh flowers and courtiers' heavy-handed perfumes and colognes makes my head swim. Instantly, my face begins to sweat beneath my mask. Even on Lavernia's arm, I only draw a few glances as we make our way towards the crowd of dancers. A gentleman with a towering white wig and peacock mask is quick to solicit Lavernia's hand for the dance. They head off to find their set and I am left on the periphery of the dance floor with a restless pack of women without partners. Instead of glances of consideration, I get glares.

I don't feel like preening for the attention of the remaining men, so I make my way towards the inviting coolness of an open window. It's tough to move through the crush in voluminous skirts exaggerated by panniers. The ball-goers seem more interested in the passing trays of champagne and hors d'oeuvres and their conversations than a masked girl trying to get by.

I stumble over a foot and nearly tumble into the open space in front of the window. Someone turns, faster than should be humanly possible and grabs my arm to stabilize me. "Watch your—" His words halt and he releases me when our eyes meet.

Even behind a gold mask that covers half his face, I recognize Destan by his blue eyes and the scar on his lip. His eyes widen and his lips part in surprise.

"Désolé," I mutter and we both spin away from the other. I try to make a quick escape, but the crowd pushes in around us and I am met with a wall of silk-clad courtiers.

"Pardon," I say to the backs of the gentlemen in front of me, but they either can't hear me over the clamor of the assembly or they just ignore me.

I turn to see if Destan got away and instead find him occupied by several chittering noblewomen. When Mademoiselle Louise de Cloutier breaks through their ranks, her eyes slide from Destan to me. The grin falls from her face.

I pretend not to recognize her and pivot to face the window, my back to Destan.

"I've been looking for you everywhere," Louise says, her words barbed by exasperation. "You promised me the first dance, but it has already begun."

I focus my eyes on the churning waves of the canal and pretend not to listen. A dusky purple haze melts across the cold evening sky.

"I haven't finished making my first round through the room," Destan replies, his voice soft as velvet and sweet as honey. "There are many of my father's friends here tonight. It would be rude for me to start dancing before I have first acknowledged my acquaintances with a greeting," he purrs.

I've never heard him talk like that. The fulsome seduction of his voice is enough to make my cheeks burn.

"Of course." Louise's reply drips with resigned anticipation, her hurt feeling soothed with saccharine words. "Come find me when you're ready."

Come find me. The innocuous words tease at a memory that makes an excited flutter rise in my chest.

"I will," Destan replies eagerly.

"Don't delay," she warns. "My dance card will fill quickly, which means your window of opportunity is closing."

"Don't worry," Destan says. "Once I've played the role of a dutiful son, nothing is going to keep me from dancing with you tonight."

"We'll see," Louise says. A challenge.

What are you waiting for? Come find me in the deep. The second cryptic message. I press against the cold stone of the windowsill as the words come back to me. I had forgotten them in the chaos of the Queen's dinner party and its dramatic aftermath.

And the first note: I need you. Come quickly.

Could they really have been meant for me? The notes. The paintings. Had Morel left them for me? A path to find him? Or were the notes a ruse? The paintings the final cries of a madman searching for something that couldn't be found?

If he had truly traveled to Alsaecia, it seems unlikely he would have gone without leaving a trail for me to follow. In retrospect, he had relied heavily on me to help him fulfill his commissions. Not that he would ever admit it, but I want to believe he needed me as I needed him.

An icy breeze brings me back to reality. I could very well be making something out of nothing... but Morel had disappeared into the canal, his body never recovered. Come find me in the deep.

"Morel is alive," I whisper the words to see if saying them out loud makes my theory sound less implausible.

"What?" a deep voice whispers behind me.

I turn and find Destan looming behind me. "What are you still doing here?"

"Your pulse is rapid. Your breathing is shallow. Why are you alarmed?"

"I have to go," I pick up my skirts and shove my way between the two noblemen who block my path. One swears when I bump his elbow and champagne sloshed down his front. I don't pause to apologize. I have a theory to test, and if I'm correct, I've already wasted far too much time.

#

The satin of my ballgown does little to protect me from the chill of the late September air, but I remove my mask at the first opportunity. The pathways towards the Grand Canal are dark with only a sliver of moon to light the grounds. I don't pass a single soul on the terraces. No one has strayed from the merriment of the masquerade yet. It's too early in the evening.

I pause at Apollo's Fountain to make sure I haven't been followed, but the sight of a dark figure hurrying down the sprawling lawn of the Tapis Vert makes my legs tremble. I stop and pretend to examine the statue of Apollo and his chariot while I wait to see what the person will do.

When they don't veer from their path towards me, I start to panic. Who could have followed me? If Morel's discovery of the gate was part of his undoing, I try to remind myself of the improbability of one of the Fae discovering what I know. When I recognize Destan's stiff, purposeful stride, the air rushes from my lungs in a sigh of relief.

"Why are you following me?" I shout across the distance between us. "You're supposed to be dancing with Mademoiselle Louise."

Destan's step quickens. He has removed his mask as well. "Because I suspect you're about to do something very reckless," he growls.

I turn and continue on my path to the canal. "Reckless? No. Insane? Maybe. Very cold? Yes indeed." I throw a glare at him over my shoulder. "I don't need you here for this."

Destan doesn't look amused. "I'll be the judge of that. What did you mean when you said Morel is alive?"

"I didn't think you were still listening when I said that," I say. "You're ruining your chances with Louise, you know."

Destan catches up to me with ease and he pulls me to a stop. "My courtship will survive." He's not going to leave me alone. Not when his instinct to protect me has been triggered. "What are you doing out here?"

I groan in frustration when I realize I'm going to have to explain to him my insane theory. "There was a second anonymous note — the night of the Queen's dinner party. 'What are you waiting for? Come find me in the deep.' I forgot about it until tonight. I was examining the whole lot of Morel's final paintings. The dark blues and greens. One of them was flecked with gold, and it reminded me of—"

"Water." Destan's eyes flick to the canal. He covers the lower half of his face with a hand, hiding whatever expression he doesn't want me to see.

"I think Morel is trying to help me find my way to him."

"That's impossi—" Destan's voice trails off as a thought comes to him. "Unless..."

"What?" My voice rises with excitement. Does he actually think it's possible?

Destan lowers his hand and folds his arms across his chest. "I attributed it to confusion, but when I pulled you from the canal, you were all turned around under the water. You thought I was pulling you down instead of pulling you up. Why was that?"

"I—" The memory is foggy and laced with terror. "I was trying to swim towards the light of the moon. When you grabbed me and pulled me towards the surface, the moon got smaller. You didn't see it?"

Destan watches me curiously. His mouth twitches like he wants to smile. "No. I was a little preoccupied saving your life."

"I can see through the glamour. Maybe I sensed the gate? Maybe that was what was drawing me to the bottom of the canal."

I watch Destan's face his reaction, but he hides his thoughts too well. "If that's true, then the gate is certainly well hidden."

"I guess there's only one way to find out." I turn my back to him and feel for the pins that hold my gown together.

"What are you doing?" he asks.

"I love this dress; I don't want to ruin it." I make quick work of the pins in the gown and stomacher and I pull my arms from the sleeves.

"Florette!" Destan cries as the gown falls to my feet.

"I'm going to see what's at the bottom of the canal," I reply with a glance over my shoulder.

"No—stop." He grabs my wrist to stop me from untying the matching over petticoat and whirls me around to face him. "Someone will see you—"

"When have you seen the gardens this empty? Everyone is at the masquerade. There can't be any harm in at last checking to see what we can find."

Destan glances up and down the bank of the canal. "This is the definition of reckless." He releases my wrist.

"Then stand here and keep watch." I quickly loosen the knot on my petticoat and wiggle my hips out of the skirt.

Destan's throat bobs with an anxious swallow and he keeps his eyes locked firmly with mine. "I don't like this."

"Then turn around if you don't want to watch me undress." My panniers join the massive pile of satin on the ground, but Destan doesn't flinch.

In just my shift, stays, and under petticoat, I feel confident I can swim freely. I remove my shoes and inch toward the shallows as I pull the pins from my hair.

"Wait," Destan says with resignation. He sighs and runs a hand over his jaw. "We're not going to find anything if we have to search the whole canal. Let's start where I pulled you out of the water."

"You're coming with me?"

"Yes. Someone has to make sure you don't drown again."

I grin. "Your services are greatly appreciated."

He shakes his head at me, the muscles in his jaw pulsing. "If we think we've found the gate we're not going through it tonight. We don't want to raise any alarms in Alsaecia until we know who The Order wants to send."

"Understood," I say.

"Follow me. I pulled you out closer to the intersection of the canals. We also have to find someplace to put these." Destan picks up my gown and I slip my shoes back on.

We stray from the bank of the canal to one of the narrow gardeners' paths between the colonnades of trees, a hidden vein beneath the garden façade so servants can move about unseen by the king.

"Here," Destan says when we come across a small tool shed.

I hang my dress and petticoat on the handle of a shovel while Destan shucks his blue satin Frac coat and vest. He hangs the garments beside mine and we return to the canal's dark waters. I leave my shoes in the grass and step into the water. My foot sinks deeper than I expect and I stumble a little as icy water licks my calves and reaches past the hem of my under petticoat.

Destan follows after me with a splash. He quickly passes me as he wades deeper into the canal. The frigid temperature doesn't seem to slow him. When the water finally reaches to his chest, he ducks his head under then resurfaces to turn and face me. "Are you regretting this?" he calls out to me.

I trudge through the water, my skirts dragging at my legs while I'm still upright. "N-no," I object, but my teeth chatter as the cold water hits my stomach.

Destan's smirk says he suspects otherwise.

If Morel is really calling out for me, I can't fail. I reach my arms overhead and dive headfirst into the deep. When my head breaks the surface I pull myself through the water with long strokes.

Destan's smirk is replaced with surprise. "This way," he says and he swims further into the deepest part of the canal. I'm certain he can swim faster, but he stays close to my side.

He stops to tread water in the wide expanse where the Grand Canal's arms reach out towards the Trianon and the Ménagerie. "It was here," he says.

"How deep is it here?"

"Deep." He examines me with an unreadable expression. "Do you want to go back?"

I shake my head.

He moves closer to me, close enough to take my hand. He laces his fingers with mine, locking us together. "Take a deep breath and release it slowly to sink. If you start to struggle, I'm pulling us up."

My pulse starts to race as I think about the crushing darkness that lurks beneath my toes, how easy it was to get lost beneath the surface.

"Relax," Destan says. "If you panic, you could hurt yourself."

I nod, but my pulse throbs in my ears.

"I'm not going to let anything happen to you." His hand tightens on mine and the conviction in his voice stills my heart and my breathing slows.

I take a breath as deep as my lungs allow and stop treading water. My head sinks below the surface and the cold closes me in. I force my eyes open and I can barely make out Destan's form beside me. Above me, the water ripples in dark hues of blue and green, just like in one of Morel's paintings. I reel in my excitement and release the breath I'm holding.

As we start to sink deeper, Destan's weight pulls him down faster. He pulls me along with him as the light of the sliver of tonight's moon struggles to reach us. Just when we reach a depth where I can't even see Destan's hand on mine, a light blooms beneath my feet. Something glows and ripples like a light above the surface of the water, only it's below us. As we get closer, I can make out the light source. It's a moon, bright and full. Not the moon of our realm. It warms the water and illuminates Destan beside me and the murky bottom of the canal around us. A large gilded frame surrounds the moon and a pane of glass reflects Destan and I in the moon's light.

It's small enough to take back to the surface with us! I want to shout at Destan. I squeeze his hand and he squeezes mine back. His eyes are wide with awe as he examines the mirror.

I reach out my free hand towards my reflection and my reflection reaches back. I don't dare touch the glass, but something shifts in the water around us. Destan moves to grab my hand away, but my reflection is faster. Her hand — my hand reaches through the mirror and closes around my wrist. As she pulls me toward the portal, it feels like a sluice gate opens and the mirror swallows in the water and everything around it. The current catches me and pulls Destan and I into the realm below.