The Golden City by J. Kathleen Cheney Read Free Book Online Page B

woman with webbed hands was, indeed, Oriana Paredes, companion to Lady Isabel Amaral.
    Duilio suspe ct ed it was for this very night that his gift had called her to his attention that day as she st ood in Isabel Amaral’s shadow. Tonight she had been seen in the river near
The City Under the Sea
. Surely she had some reason for that, some information that might be helpful to his inve st igation.
    Black and white
. Why was that important? His gift never answered the why of things, which was always the part he needed mo st . He sat back in his chair and sighed. In the morning he would visit the Amaral house and ask to speak with Miss Paredes.
    No, I won’t
. His gift told him she wouldn’t be there. She had left the Amaral household for good, which was damnably inconvenient for him.
    Duilio got up and turned down the gaslight. If he wanted answers to his que st ions, he fir st had to find her.

CHAPTER 4
    O riana jolted awake when the milkman’s cart rattled through the alleyway. A momentary panic seized her, but she too quickly recalled why she had fallen asleep out of doors.
    Lady Amaral had ca st her out. When she told the woman that Isabel had been taken, Isabel’s mother claimed it was merely part of her daughter’s scheme to elope. Oriana hadn’t been able to tell her the truth; she’d barely gotten a chance to speak at all. Lady Amaral had ju st returned from a ball or party and was in a foul mood, so in the early hours of the morning she had the butler escort Oriana out of the house.
    It had been too early and too dark to go anywhere, and Oriana had been too exhau st ed to search for a place to st ay, in any case. After a dazed moment st anding in the court behind the house, she recalled the st airwell that led to the house’s coal room. The two bags she’d left the previous evening were st ill there, so she’d curled up on the cold st one next to them and cried until sleep overtook her.
    Oriana forced herself to sit up. The morning air was cold but bearable. Her black skirt was ripped. Her clothes were almo st dry, although her shoes were st ill damp. Her forehead was tender, and her fingers found a small lump there. She checked her right palm, wrapped with st rips torn from her apron. The narrow slash her rescuer had made when wre st ling her dagger out of her hand had scabbed over, although one end began to bleed afresh when she removed her makeshift bandage.
    She heard someone speaking then with the milkman up at the back door of the house—meaningless chatter, but it reminded her she wasn’t alone here. She grabbed the portmanteau she’d left there the evening before, dragged it to her side, and searched through the contents until she found another pair of mitts. Hiding her hands came fir st . She tugged the right one on over her scabbed palm, making sure that all of her webbing was covered.
    She was donning the other when Carlos, the fir st footman, leaned over the rail that led down to the coal room st airs. “Miss Paredes? Are you st ill hiding down there?”
    Oriana clutched both hands to her che st , her heart slamming again st her ribs. She took a deep breath and rose un st eadily, grasping the rail with her left hand. “Yes, I’m here.”
    He came a few st eps down, not crowding her. “The dragon won’t be awake for hours, so Arenas won’t notice if I’m missing for a few minutes.” He held out a napkin-wrapped offering in one hand. “Were you serious about Isabel being grabbed?”
    Oriana took the napkin. It held a croissant, a rare show of kindness from Carlos. She wasn’t st arving yet, so she tucked it into the mouth of her portmanteau. “Thank you. Yes. I fear something terrible has happened.”
    Carlos nodded. “Efisio’s driver came by here ju st a few minutes ago. He said he was supposed to pick up the two of you la st night. They drove around and around but they never saw you.”
    Of course the driver would have missed Isabel!
“Has anyone told Lady Amaral