Page 80 of Ruling Destiny

—Napoleon Bonaparte

46

I glance around the narrow alleyway.

Going by the dim light and chilled air, I’m guessing we arrived sometime in the late afternoon, early evening hours. But honestly, it could just as easily be early morning as well.

I pull my giorneatighter around me, trying to ward off the cold. “Where are we?” I look to Killian, hoping he knows, because I haven’t a clue.

He squints into the distance. In a voice as tight as his expression, he says, “All I know is we need to memorize this place, because this is where they’ll send the next portal. And without the aid of contacts or masks, it’s our only hope of returning to Gray Wolf.”

“So…you don’t actually know where we are.” I let go of his hand. This is ridiculous. Braxton would know his way around. So why did Arthur send Killian, who’s already lost?

Killian shoots me a look from over his shoulder. “Don’t do that,” he says.

“You’re lost. Admit it.” I cross my arms over my chest, partly to conserve whatever body heat I still have, partly to ensure my hands remain completely inaccessible to him.

“How can I be lost when I just arrived?” Killian rubs his hands together and blows the air out of his cheeks as he shifts his weight between his feet. “Can you at least try to trust me? And if you can’t manage that, then can you at least pretend like you trust me? Tripping is all about playing a part, and it’s time for you to start playing yours.”

He’s not wrong. But that doesn’t mean that I like it.

“I’m not holding your hand,” I say.

Killian frowns. “Well, it’s going to be hard to convince people we’re a couple if you don’t at least try to show some sign of affection toward me.”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong.” I narrow my gaze. “Nobles didn’t marry for love. It was all about politics, position, power, and a sizeable dowry.”

“Maybe so.” He shrugs. “But like it or not, your twenty-first century mindset will only land us in trouble. These women are nothing like you. Their life choices are limited to marriage, domestic service, a nunnery, or to work as a courtesan. And you, Shiv, are now cast in the role of one who chose marriage. Which means you need to start acting like your Renaissance sisters—completely dependent on the men in your life for your very survival.”

Gross.I want to roll my eyes, but I know better. I also know that none of that is Killian’s fault.

“Fine.” I huff. “But I won’t pretend to adore you.”

Killian sighs. “Fair enough.” He starts making his way down the alley.

“Where are you going?” I call.

“Good God.” He turns to face me. “Is the whole Trip going to be like this?” He swipes a hand through his hair, rakes a harsh gaze over me. “Just tell me now, so I can prepare.”

I narrow my eyes, noting the way his jaw clenches, the way the veins in his neck seem to pop, like it’s taking all his will just to keep himself in check. Which only confirms that, if I wanted, I could push him right over the edge with a few well-chosen words.

“Guess we won’t know for sure until you manage to get us successfullyunlost,” I say, watching as he throws his hands up in frustration and storms down the alleyway.

“Hey!” I yell after him. “What am I supposed to do with this thing?” I gesture toward the oversize trunk that made the Trip with us.

“You’re strong.” Killian tosses the words over his shoulder. “You want to exert your independence—figure it out.”

I watch as he continues down the alley, leaving me with an ancient version of a suitcase that weighs more than all the clothing inside. I scowl at the monstrous thing, half tempted to just abandon it, since there’s no way I can lug it on my own.

“Enjoy your anger while you can,” he calls. “Because your mind is about to be blown.”

I sink down onto the trunk. Feeling defeated, deflated, wondering how it’s come to this and how much worse it can get.

So much for Venice. So much for being with Braxton.

At the sound of a loud, sharp whistle, I look up to see a coach at the end of the alley. A moment later, a man leaps from the driver’s seat, heaves the trunk onto his shoulders, and hauls it onto the back of our ride.

“What is this?” I ask, making my way toward Killian. “An ancient Uber?”

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