The Vessel of Ra

Chapter 2: The Newlyweds

In October the water overflows Venice's canals. It rims Saint Mark's Square and puddles in its depressions, the ocean invading the most sacred pockets of the city. The Venetians built their city on poles, layering sand and stone upon each other until the city stopped sinking and fell down only on rare occasions. From October through early spring, the water taunted the occupying Austrians and other foreigners. What were they doing trying to stay dry on top of a lagoon? The Venetians, on the other hand, knew the secret was not staying dry. Water and land danced around each other, neither the master nor the mistress of the city.

Octavia bathed in the moonlight over the floating waters, standing on the balcony outside her suite in deshabille. No one would see her impropriety at night. Black hair corkscrewed over her shoulders in loose ringlets. She was a white ghost, luminous in moon rays and street lamp reflections, blue veins swirling underneath her translucent skin, marking her as a Binder. For sixteen years, her life was preparing for the Trial with her demon, Khun. She had survived. This very moment was about her recent marriage to a stranger.

Octavia hugged herself. Her father had orchestrated her marriage to Drusus Claudian perfectly. Drusus was much more than she expected as the third son of a prominent branch of the Claudian family. He was a magician in his own right, a powerful weather mage specializing in lightning. With him, Drusus brought prestige and wealth. If he found it socially awkward being married to a Binder, Octavia couldn't tell. If anything, it seemed he defended his new wife too zealously. He allowed nothing to be said against her from those who were not magicians, even though Octavia reminded him they couldn't help themselves. Even magicians picked up the Klaereon tie to the infernal and were uncomfortable.

She laughed. Drusus was a good lover. He treated her like a china vase, so respectful, so considerate. Octavia was no vase, but all the books she'd read about being a good wife convinced her she should keep her darker desires to herself. There were other ways to see to those, which need not concern Drusus.

Octavia hadn't told him about Lucy's Trial yet. Drusus seemed fond of Lucy, and Octavia was nervous about the upcoming conversation.

"Mrs. Claudian." Drusus enveloped her, his velvet-covered arms draping over her shoulders, embracing her in the secure cloak of love. He smelled musky and sweaty, and she nuzzled into him completely. "You are beautiful."

Octavia smiled. She had been complimented by men before. Beauty like spun sugar, like Venetian glass, she had heard the other day. Ethereal; best seen from a distance.

Drusus was beautiful, too. Handsome, with olive skin, a strong nose, dark hair and eyes, and a frame which bespoke a Byronic hero. They would make beautiful children. Her father would be so proud. She was perfect, Caius Klaereon reminded her. The perfectly formed daughter to inherit Solomon's Scroll from him when the time was right.

"Thank you," she murmured.

"Come back to bed." His lips brushed her neck.

"Not yet. It's a beautiful city, isn't it?"

"Better than Firenze?"

"No," she said. "But beautiful."

"Come back to bed." His kisses became more urgent, little heat spots on her neck. She closed her eyes, sinking into his magic.

"We could make love out here," she whispered.

"We'll leave the patio doors open." He nibbled her ear and joy danced inside her. Drunk with the newness of him, she turned and held him tight. Drusus scooped her into his arms and they disappeared into their room, into the quiet shadows that watched Octavia with other eyes.

The sky was an indifferent blue, pale with wispy clouds. Behind Octavia in a pavilion set up to protect her skin from the sun, Calpurnia Julii, Octavia's mother, continued painstaking embroidery on a tapestry depicting the Trial of Erasmus. Calpurnia had not talked to her eldest daughter since Lucy had been moved from the nursery to a separate room, apart from Octavia.