Benji laughed. “Flossie, my love, grant mercy.”
“Mercy!” She plucked the kitten from Benji’s lap and set it on the ground, where it immediately sank its claws into his trousers and started to climb back up. “Not likely. You’re not the one left chasing this poultry-mad she-devil off your pillow every night. Listening to her wail near to dawn this morning because of that damned barking dog!”
Ruby tensed.
At her side, Archer came to attention—easily, gracefully, the way he did everything. “What dog, Floss?” he asked. His voice was casual.
“I don’t know. Some mad thing down in the harbor. Barking and barking to raise the dead.”
“I heard it too,” Benji said. “Went down to check if it was trapped somewhere, but I couldn’t find hide nor hair of it. Must’ve been on one of the ships. Wanted free, poor lamb.”
Ruby’s heart beat hard.
A dog trapped on one of the ships? Could it have been Zenobia?
“When did the barking stop?” she asked breathlessly. “Is the ship still there?”
She was betraying her urgency, she realized. Everyone in the room would know that this was important to her—that she cared far more than she ought about a little dog. If whoever had tried to assassinate the princess had watchers in the tavern, their gaze would inevitably turn to Ruby.
But Archer did not seem to mind her outburst. His fingers brushed her hand beneath the table, drawing her to her feet, bringing her with him as he moved toward Benji.
“Before dawn, I think,” Floss said. Her eyes met Ruby’s. “A few hours before dawn.”
“Strange,” Archer said. “You don’t often hear a dog on a ship. Cats, maybe.”
“I heard it too,” put in another man, a stout fellow in a neat suit who blushed when he spoke. “Down in the harbor near midnight.”
“Oh, did you now?” said Benji, laughing again. “And what were you doing down by the docks at midnight, Mr. Polkinghorne?” He glanced conspiratorially at Archer. “’Tis always the quiet ones who surprise you.”
“Don’t tease the reverend, Benji,” Floss said stoutly. Her eyes softened as she turned to the blushing vicar. “Did you discern the ship, Mr. Polkinghorne?”
“That bore the dog? To be sure. A big black sloop by the name ofVulcano.”
The rest of their party had crowded up behind them, and at this, Signor Neri drew in a sharp breath.
Archer turned. “You know it?”
“Madonna mia,” the signore said. He swallowed. Pressed his hands together. “I know the name, yes. Verdura’s ship.”
Ruby felt a pulse of terror, stronger than anything that had come before.
She had believed the princess’s story of pirates and assassins, and yet it had seemed distant. The princess had been whole and safe; she had not troubled to hide herself unduly, with her fine frocks and her air of command. The Duca di Verdura had seemed a distant ghostly almost-threat, while the princess had been flesh and blood and vivid life.
But this—this was confirmation beyond all doubt. Verdura had taken the princess. Had taken, somehow, Tamsin as well.
What desperation was this? To attack the princess on her ship and then—when that failed—steal her straight off the docks?
He had taken Princess Serafina. He had taken Tam.
Ruby was at the door before she realized she had moved. She turned back in sudden hesitation, but Archer was already beside her, letting her lead, tossing a parting mention of bills to be paid to Floss as he kept pace with Ruby.
“Go,” Floss said. “I know you’re good for it.”
They raced down to the wharf. Ruby’s heart was in her throat as they scanned the ships, hoping even as she knew it was useless.A few hours before dawn, Floss had said, but it was full afternoon now. The sun had long since burned off the mist that rose over the water, and there was no black sloop in the harbor.
They trod the docks, and Ruby’s eyes devoured every ship, every name.
NoVulcano. Tamsin and Serafina were gone.
