Elsa tried to step aside, not wanting to intrude on their reunion, but Alek drew her in and they all huddled close, talking much longer than they should for Jumi’s sake. Three generations of scriptologists, mentors and students to one another but also something more. Family. Elsa had more of it than she’d once thought.
Later, when it was time for Jumi to rest, Elsa drew Alek aside to speak with him privately. “Will you stay with her? She needs time to recover, whether she likes it or not. And she won’t like it—you know how difficult she can be.”
Alek gave her a wry look. “How difficult she can be?”
“She needs someone to look after her,” Elsa persisted.
“And who’s going to look after you?” he said.
She wanted to snap, I can look after myself, but that would hardly be the reassurance he needed. Instead, she settled for saying, “There’s Porzia and Faraz. I believe I can still count on them, even with…” She swallowed the words, Leo gone. “In any case, my work’s not done. We must retrieve the editbook.”
Alek frowned, and for a moment she thought he’d argue with her. Perhaps insist that the Order take over the battle with Garibaldi after her spectacular failure. But he voiced no words of criticism, only nodded. “Very well. I’ll stay.”
She nodded. “And I’ll go.”
*
Elsa took the shortcut up the steep hill, weaving her way around rocks and trees. She didn’t want to be seen on the main path, didn’t want the villagers making a production out of her departure. After weeks of fearing she might never return to her world, it would be hard enough to leave Veldana without a reminder of the people staying behind. Her people—she saw now that they truly were.
At the Edgemist, Elsa paused to check her supplies: doorbook and laboratory book, revolver in its holster, stability glove, portal device. The instruments of her craft. She suspected she would need them all.
She set the dials and flipped the switch. The portal irised open before her—cold as betrayal, black as uncertainty, edged in swirling chaos. The portal, so like the future that lay beyond it.
Elsa stepped through.
EPILOGUE
Leo balanced on the narrow platform between cars, his knees slightly bent to buffer against the rocking and swaying of the train. Behind him, the access door creaked, but he didn’t turn to see who it was.
“There you are,” Aris said, his voice raised to be heard over the noise of the train’s passage.
Leo shut his eyes and focused on the feel of the wind whipping by, the clattering of wheels over the rails. He’d grown so accustomed to Elsa’s doorbook that now it felt almost like a luxury to travel the slow way through reality.
“That was quite a performance,” Aris continued, seemingly unbothered by Leo’s lack of response. “I wouldn’t have guessed you had it in you.”
Sourly, Leo wondered if he meant the performance he’d given Father, or the earlier one—the one for Elsa. Now Leo turned, wanting to gauge his brother’s response as he said, “At least one of us got what he wanted.”
Aris regarded him mildly, though there was a flicker of calculation buried deep under that expression of innocence. “You’re the one who made the deal: the editbook for Elsa’s freedom. Isn’t that what you wanted? We both know Father would have pursued her if she’d escaped with the book.”
“I did what I had to do. There were no good choices.” He’d only wanted to protect her, even if that meant protecting her from her own sense of responsibility. Now the memory of the moment he’d betrayed Elsa was like a sore tooth—painful, but he couldn’t stop prodding it. Her shocked expression played over and over in his mind. Leo swallowed, his throat tight. “You’re the one satisfied with this outcome, not me.”
Aris looked away, and for once there seemed to be a vulnerability about his smile. “I won’t pretend to be unhappy to have you back, brother. Do you fault me for being pleased at our reunion?”
Leo knew what he’d done was unforgivable. His life in Pisa was gone now. Faraz and Porzia, Burak and the rest of the children—his surrogate siblings. Gia and Rosalinda, who had both been mothers to him in their own ways. Elsa. He could never go back to them.
Aris put a gentle hand on his arm. “It’s cold out here. Come inside with me, little brother.”
“In a minute.”
Aris nodded, acquiescing, and left Leo alone again with his thoughts. It was cold, but Leo welcomed the numbness of the wind against his face. He wished it could numb him all the way through to the ache buried in his chest.
He had stolen the editbook; he had robbed Elsa of her chosen agency as the protector of Earth. So it was his burden, now, to prevent the editbook from ever being used. Yes, he would have to stop Ricciotti. Somehow.
Leo took a deep breath, pulled open the access door, and stepped inside the train car like Heracles entering the underworld. It was time to face his family—once the source of all his joy, and of more grief than his heart could hold.
Time to face his father.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
The political conflicts presented in this book are based on real nineteenth-century conflicts, but this fictional history diverges significantly from the true events of Italian unification. In real life, Archimedes mirrors were never successfully deployed for military use. So Giuseppe Garibaldi—an actual Sardinian general—landed his ships without incident in Marsala in 1860 and then led a famously successful campaign against the Kingdom of Two Sicilies. His battles in the south were supported by the highly dissatisfied local populace, including the real-life Carbonari rebels.
Garibaldi was passionately devoted to the idea of a unified Italy, and he went on to pursue multiple campaigns in other regions. By 1871, the modern borders of what we now know as Italy were established. Garibaldi did have a son named Ricciotti, but he led an ordinary life, always in the shadow of a famous father. In this alternate history, I’ve posited that Giuseppe’s untimely death would not only have delayed unification by several decades, but also have a profound effect on his son.
Any similarities to real life are because Italian history is awesome; any inaccuracies are my own.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
First and foremost I have to thank my literary agent, Jennifer Azantian, for her unwavering enthusiasm and hard work bringing this project to fruition. I’m deeply grateful to the whole team at Imprint, but especially to my editor, Rhoda Belleza, and my publisher, Erin Stein, for helping to bring forth the best possible version of this manuscript. Thanks also to Natalie C. Sousa and the rest of the design team for transforming my words into such a beautiful physical object.
The support and critiques of my beta readers got me through the early drafts, so thanks to: Dan Campbell, Gwen Phua, Cynthia Tedore, Erin McKinney, and Athena DeGangi. More generally, I learned so much about the craft and business of writing from the Codex online writers’ group and from my Triangle area critique buddies, Dan, Kim, and Natania. I wouldn’t be where I am today without y’all.
Lastly, a shout-out to the local cafés of Durham, NC—especially Guglhupf and Mad Hatter—who kept me fed and caffeinated while I wrote this novel.