Heart of Glass - By Sasha Gould Page 0,95

aboard,” he says.

“Where are you taking me?” My thoughts can barely keep up with what’s happening, but one realization slams into me: The wine last night. It was drugged.

Massimo.

“Haven’t you guessed?” Faruk asks. He points towards a large ship, squatting among others farther out beyond the harbor. “Halim is waiting for his concubine.”

47

“What will happen to us?” Faustina sobs. “These brutes are capable of terrible things!” She wraps her shawl more tightly around her bosom. Despite the pain in my head and my parched throat, I give her a reassuring smile. “We’ll be fine,” I tell her, wishing I could believe my own words.

I shift myself awkwardly across the boat, trying to anticipate each lunge and swell of the sea. I stumble, falling like a toddler at my old wet nurse’s feet. She helps me up onto the bench, and we sit side by side, my arm around her shoulders as she turns her face into the crook of my neck.

“What shall we do?” she asks softly. Faruk is gazing out to sea, his eyes fixed on Halim’s ship. All around is water.

“You have to trust me,” I whisper into her hair, “I’ll get us out of here.”

“Here?” Faustina pulls away to reveal a tearstained face, and looks out at the ocean that surrounds us. “It’s hopeless. I can’t even swim!”

Our little boat draws up beside Halim’s ship. Canvas sails are rolled tightly. Cannons bristle from its lower decks. It’s as impressive as I remember, the awning over Halim’s pavilion decorated with golden tassels. Smaller ships are ranged around it. Their shallow keels mean that Halim’s crew can sail in close to Venice’s harbor, should cannons not be enough and they want to use swords too.

Halim appears on the deck. He’s wearing scarlet robes with a sash of gold, and on his head is a blue turban. In one hand he carries a golden staff, and in the other a drooping chrysanthemum. Even from this distance, his dark eyes glimmer. He gives us a deep bow.

“Lower the gangplank,” he orders, straightening up.

Faustina grabs my hands, crushing them in her terrified grip. “They’ll slit our throats!” she murmurs.

One by one, I prise my fingers free. I need her to calm down. “The Turks are civilized people. They’ll do no such thing.” I know she won’t really believe this, so I turn to whisper in her ear. “And Halim has a soft spot for me.”

She gasps, and her mouth opens as if to protest. Even dear old Faustina catches my meaning. “You can’t!” she hisses.

Faruk prods us to stand, and we climb stiffly up the gangplank. It isn’t wide, and as the ship and boat sway in the water, the narrow length of wood shifts so that we move in shuffling steps. This is not the most graceful entrance I’ve ever made. Finally, I jump to the deck and reach down to help Faustina. Beside Halim, clutching a curved sword, is one of the men who guarded his apartments in Venice.

“What an unexpected surprise,” Halim says, looking sharply at Faruk. The older man’s cheeks color.

“A gift from our friends,” he says.

“I’m no gift,” Faustina says, turning her face away.

Faruk laughs cruelly. “I wasn’t talking about you, old crone!” He shoves me rudely in the small of my back, and I stagger forward. My hand slaps across his face before I can stop myself. The snake only grins as he touches his cheek. “You’ll be tamed,” he says. “In time.”

Halim smiles at me, his teeth sparkling white against the mahogany of his skin. He’s still handsome. A handsome monster.

I shake my head in disgust and all thoughts of reasoning with this despicable man vanish. “You murderer. To think I almost kissed you!”

Faustina lets out a small, scandalized gasp but Halim ignores her, arching an eyebrow.

“You make me sound so devious, when you put it like that,” he says. “I assure you, I only ever pursued justice. But I see that my plans have been exposed.” He pauses. Placing his staff in the crook of his arm, he starts to pluck petals from the chrysanthemum, allowing them to flutter down one by one to the wooden planks of the deck. “A shame, because the game isn’t over yet.”

The sun comes out from behind a cloud, and the light sparkles off the sea, forcing me to shield my face with a hand. It’s almost impossible to read the expression on Halim’s face.

He gives a short laugh. “Venice will be mine by nightfall.”

“Roberto is safe,” I