DAUGHTER OF FATE

The Life of Elena Mondavi

Pirate, Explorer, Spy, and Witch

By John Wick
 For the woman who helped me find Elena’s voice and see into
her heart.
“WWJD?”
 Dear Diary,
I know my sister will never read this, but I still write it pretending
that one day, she shall. Villanova’s spies are most effective: a fact I have
learned all too well. A fact that earned me a scar. It still aches on cold
nights. But I have hopes. And in this world, hope is the most precious
commodity of all, more valuable than any coins or treasure.
I still remember Catarina as the little girl I could hold in the nook of
my arm. Her eyes unfocused. Her tiny fingers barely able to wrap around
my thumb. I remember her grip and how surprised I was when I felt its
strength. Mother put her in my arms, but it was Father who took her
away, and when he did, I felt a sudden pang in my chest. Then, I could
not explain it. Now, I understand it perfectly.
The day I held Catarina was one of the last days I spent in that house.
I remember standing on the cliff behind the house, the steep fall and blue
waters below. The strong wind. I grew up holding on to the railing with
both hands, too afraid to let go. I had nightmares of the wind catching
my skirts, lifting me up, and pulling me over the edge. Falling down
into the water below, the cold crash, freezing. Losing my breath. Then,
waking breathless. My skin wet. My eyes wide, looking into the pitch
black room, wondering if I had screamed. Looking at my sister asleep, I
saw that I did not. And trying to fall back asleep, terrified of the dream,
lurking in my mind like an assassin, waiting for me to lower my guard.
I remember running through the house when Father was away and
walking with my head bowed when he was not, walking so quietly,
trying not to be heard. Stealing a taste of the cake batter when the cook’s
back was turned. Getting my hand slapped when I was caught. Watch-
ing the vineyard grow. And the oranges. And the dates.
I never considered what was outside the house, away from the island.
I would look at the setting sun and see the ships on the water, but I never
wondered what it would be like to leave. I never wanted to leave. With
my crochet and knitting, the cats and kittens sitting on my lap and
around me, the dogs in the yard chasing my brothers, I never wanted
to leave.
But there was a day I wanted to run away. A very dark day. It
happened nine years before Catarina was born, nine years before I was
taken from the house….
PART ONE

Daughter
8 John Wick
 Daughter of Fate 9

E lena saw the storm coming, black clouds and sheets of rain
on the mainland. Hours before it would arrive, a small ship
preceded it. Ignazio and Felice went down to the docks and brought
back a woman who looked a thousand years old. Her face was
hidden behind a thick, black veil. She looked like she would fall
apart any moment, her limbs held together by cobwebs. They held
both her arms as she walked, and they moved so slowly, as if afraid
they would snap her in half if they moved even an inch faster.
Her mother greeted the old woman halfway up the walk from
the docks, kneeling down. The old woman put a hand on Mother’s
head and her fingers looked like the legs of a pale spider, curling
down on her skull. Elena felt her body shudder.
All four of them walked up to the house. When they entered,
Mother told Elena, “This is Nana Emmanuela.”
Elena smiled, but she looked frightened. She curtseyed as she
had been taught. “My name is Elena Mondavi.”.
The old woman behind the veil said, “I know,” and her voice
sounded like she had gravestones in her throat. Then, Nana Emman-
uela looked at Mother. “Tea,” she said.
Nana Emmanuela spoke like Elena’s father: with certainty and
confidence. Elena had never heard a woman speak like a man before.
Then, Nana gestured toward the living room. Ignazio and Felice
helped her. She sat on the couch, her voice making pained sounds.
She gestured toward Elena.
“Come here,” she said.
Elena stepped into the room, stopping at the door, as she had
been instructed.
10 John Wick

“Come closer,” she said.

Elena moved further into the room, close enough for her to
touch her.
Nana Emmanuela looked at her, up and down, the veil tilting as
her head moved. “How old are you?” she asked.
“Seven,” she said.
Nana Emmanuela nodded. “Very good.” Elena did not know
why that was good, and she was too afraid to ask.
Nana Emmanuela lifted her hands, shivering and pale fingers,
and lifted the veil from her face. Later in life, Elena would not
remember Nana’s face, but she would never forget her eyes. Black
eyes. All black. No color.
She smiled and Elena almost cried.
“You have great potential,” Nana said. “I can see that now.” Her
eyes never blinked as she spoke, only remaining focused on Elena as
she tried not to squirm. “You will make a fine wife.”
Then she smiled and Elena swooned, nearly falling over. Mother
returned, followed by her older brother Ignazio, carrying a platter
of tea. Mother helped Elena from the room while she heard Nana
Emmanuela’s laughter behind her.

***

Sitting in the yard, knitting on her lap, Elena watched her broth-
ers clashing swords.
Ignazio was the older. Tall, slender, and dark-haired, like her
father. His limbs were long and strong and his eyes were bright.
When he smiled, Elena could not help but smile.
Felice was smaller and younger. Not fully grown. His hair was
brown, like Mother’s, and he was fast. Ignazio called him “reckless”
and “foolish.” Ignazio also always won their duels.
 Daughter of Fate 11

Elena watched them, her fingers busy with needles, knitting

a scarf for Felice. Ignazio was already wearing the scarf she made
for him. She watched them as her fingers worked, so used to the
motions, she almost never needed to look down. When she was
younger and just learning, she saw how Mother never needed to
look at her work. And she said to herself, That is when I will be good.
Now, watching her brothers, the thought was far behind her. Speed
was what she craved now. Mother was impressed with how quickly
Elena could knit, but it was not fast enough. The boys only ever
complimented the results.
Sometimes, the fighting between the boys became so heated,
Elena worried. Today was one of those times. Elena could see Felice’s
frustration. After a quick exchange, Ignazio called “Touch!” Felice
threw down his sword on the grass, cursing.
Ignazio stepped forward. “It’s all right,” he said. “You’re
improving.”
“You’ll always be better!” Felice shouted. He kicked the sword.
“Always!”
Ignazio put his hand on Felice’s shoulder, but Felice shrugged
it away. When Ignazio tried again, Felice shoved him and ran back
into the house. Ignazio sighed and went back to the swords.
When he turned his back, Elena put down her knitting and ran
across the lawn. She picked up one of the swords with both hands.
“Fight me!” she shouted at her brother.
Ignazio turned, his brow and hair wet. He smiled. “Mio Dio!” he
shouted. “It is Elena the pirate!”
Elena swung the sword at him and he dodged it. She swung
again, her tiny body trying to manage the blade.
“Elena the pirate, the terror of the seven seas!” Ignazio said.
“Feared by all right and just men!”
“That’s me!” Elena shouted. She swung the sword again and
12 John Wick

Ignazio caught it with his glove. He pulled the sword from her hands
and pointed it back at her.
“Be careful, Captain Elena!” he said. “Justice comes to all pirates
sooner or later!”
“No!” Elena shouted, smiling. “I escape!” And she ran back into
the house, Ignazio laughing after her.

***

Having Nana in the house was worse than when Father was
home. When Father was away, Elena could play with her brothers,
but when he was home, everyone was quiet and obedient. When
Nana was there, everyone was afraid.
Nana could not move on her own, needing others to help her.
More than once, Mother asked Elena to assist Nana Emmanuela
around the house. She trembled when Nana touched her, her skin
like fish pulled from the sea. Her old dress swishing as her legs made
tiny steps.
One day, as they walked through the vineyard, Nana asked her,
“Do you have it?”
Elena was unsure what the old woman meant. “I—I do not
know,” she said.
“The Gift,” Nana asked. “Can you see? Do you have the Sight?”
Elena hesitated in answering her. But she felt Nana’s hand
squeeze hers, her fingernails digging into flesh. “Do you?” she asked
again, her old voice on the edge of cruelty.
Elena nodded. “I do.”
Nana nodded and said, “Tell me what you see.”
Elena told her about the visions. Seeing lights over people’s heads.
About flashes of lights dancing between her mother and father, her
brothers.
 Daughter of Fate 13

Elena had not told anyone. But she knew Nana could tell if she
was lying.
“You have the Sight,” Nana said. “That is good.”
Elena said, “My mother does not have it.”
Nana said, “She does, but she is no good at it.” She made a wet
sound that may have been a giggle. “She makes too many mistakes.”
Elena nodded. “Father…always asks Mother if I have it.”
They turned a corner in the vineyard, moving further away from
the house. “Does she ask you?”
Elena shook her head. “No. Not once.”
“So, you’ve both been hiding it,” Nana said, her hand squeez-
ing tight.
“No,” Elena protested, almost panicked. “She just…”
“You never speak of it,” she said. “She knows. It is the way to
keep secrets. If you never ask the right questions, nobody ever gives
the right answers.” She nodded, softly. “This is a trick your mother
knows well.”
Elena paused her steps, looking up at the woman. She saw her
jaw, just under the veil. Her jowls hanging low. Thin skin hanging
loosely on old bones.
“Who are you?” she asked.
Nana smiled. “I am your father’s grandmother,” she said. “Come
to teach you how to use your Gift.” She squeezed Elena’s hand again.
“Let us walk further. I have more questions to ask you.”
Years passed, and the house changed with her presence. The
room seemed to chill when she entered it. When she spoke, her
voice sounded underwater. And when she cast her eyes upon Elena,
the girl could feel her stomach shivering.
But over that month, Elena learned to refine what Nana called
“the Sight.” The flashes of instinct she had were replaced with some-
thing much more powerful. One morning, she saw her father
14 John Wick

standing with her mother. More than that, she saw something that
looked like a single thread, almost like a bit of spider web dangling
in a thin breeze. It shimmered with many colors.
Elena saw this standing far away from them. Nana stood with her.
“What do you see?” Nana asked.
Elena told her. She described the colors, the thread twisting in a
wind she could not hear nor feel.
“You see the strands,” Nana said. “Very good.”
Elena looked at her. “What is it?”
“The strand?” she said, her voice more than a little amused. “Some
believe they link us together, show us the truth.” She gestured softly
toward Elena’s parents. “You see how the strand appears to be dim?”
Elena nodded. “Yes.”
“The bond between them is weakening,” she said. “Fraying like a
poorly knit frock.”
Elena blinked, feeling her heart sink with dread. “No!” she said.
Nana shrugged. “It happens,” she told her. “Men and women
cling to each other tightly at first, but then, their grip loosens.” She
took a cookie from the tray sitting in front of them. “Then, they try
to reach for something else.”
Elena began crying, and she didn’t understand why.
“Shush,” Nana told her. “Don’t upset your parents.”
Don’t upset your parents. That only made it worse.

***

A week later, Elena wasn’t only seeing the strands, she was learn-
ing to pull them. Her brothers were throwing tablua dice and Nana
said, “Watch them. Watch the strands.”
Elena saw the boys pick up the dice and shake them in closed
fists. And she saw the strands twist as the dice tumbled.
 Daughter of Fate 15

“You can change the roll,” Nana said. “But you must be careful. If
you pull too hard, the strands will cut you.”
Elena took a deep breath, trying to keep her eyes on the strands.
“Use your fingers, if you must,” Nana whispered.
Elena lifted her arms, coiling her fingers around the strands
between her brothers and the dice, feeling them against her flesh
like cold, icy razors.
“Take care,” Nana told her.
As she touched the strands, Elena heard a soft sound in the back
of her thoughts. Almost like singing. A choir. Touching the strands
was like plucking the harp. She felt their edges, like balancing the tip
of a knife on her fingers.
Carefully… carefully… slow… breathing… she pulled a single
finger… forward… feeling the edge biting into her skin…
The dice fell, clattering to the table. One brother cursed and the
other cheered.
Elena blinked, realizing her eyes were wet. “I…did it,” she said.
Nana smiled. “Yes. Yes, you did.”
Elena stared at her brothers, feeling a smile grow on her lips.
Then, she felt something on her hands. She looked down and saw
Nana’s white handkerchief covering her fingers.
And blossoms of blood from her hands under it.

***

Elena sat quietly as many men and women walked about her
father’s house. She sat with Nana and watched.
The woman’s presence was like a shadow now. Ever present and
subtle. Sometimes Elena even forgot she was there. But she was
always there. Just a step behind her. A shadow.
Mother was pregnant again and all her family had come. Uncles,
16 John Wick

aunts, cousins. All of them. People she had never seen before and
people she had seen perhaps only once. But they all knew her name
and they all greeted her like they had known her all her life.
The men were loud and the women were polite. She stood in line
with her siblings when they arrived and bent her knee when Mother
introduced her, bowing her head. She stood until her feet and back
ached. Then, when the greetings were done, she sat in the parlor
quietly with Nana sitting by her side.
“Look at them,” Nana said.
Elena answered, “I am.”
“No,” Nana said. “Look at them.”
Elena took a breath...closed her eyes...then opened them...
Her eyes changed focus. As if she was trying to see through the people.
“Look at them,” Nana said again.
...and Elena looked.
The room full of people, almost standing shoulder-to-shoulder.
And a great web of light between them. All of them. Colors flashing.
The webs linking them together.
“Tell me what you see,” Nana said.
Elena raised a hand but Nana slapped it down, moving with
a speed Elena had become accustomed to, but still caught her off
guard. “Do not point. Only speak.”
Elena’s eyes focused on a man speaking to her father. She saw
the strand linking them, shimmering like a spider web with droplets
of sunlight.
“He owes my father money,” she said.
Nana nodded, “Very good.”
Elena shifted her gaze, looking at the strands. Desire. Authority.
Each its own shimmering color.
Elena saw some of the women watching her. Their eyes trembling.
“Not all of us have the gift,” Nana said. “And those who are not
 Daughter of Fate 17

pretty enough or wealthy enough are simple slaves.”

Elena saw the women. Saw one woman bite her lip as Elena’s
eyes passed over her.
“They will fear you,” Nana said. “Use that fear.”
Elena shut her eyes. Took a breath. When she opened them
again, the world was simple. Just men and women. No strands. She
looked at Nana. “What happens to the ones who aren’t...”
“If a woman does not have the gift, she can still be a wife if she
is rich or pretty enough. But those of us who are daughters of fate,
we are selected first.” She waved her hand. “Others go to the streets
and earn a meager living as whores.” Nana said, “Look again. Tell
me what you see.”
Elena shifted her gaze, focusing on a woman speaking to her
brother, Ignazio. The woman was older...as old as her own mother.
The strand between them was red like wine.
“She wants something from Ignazio,” she said.
Nana nodded. “What is it she wants?”
Elena’s eyes narrowed. “She...” Tighter. “...wants...” Elena gasped
and shut her eyes. Nana laughed quietly.
Elena opened her eyes and looked at Nana. “Some things should
be private.”
“Not to us,” Nana said, a small grin on her lips. “Nothing is secret
from us, dear. That is why you are so desired as a wife.” Nana put
her thin, fragile finger up to her lips. “Because no one can keep a
secret from us.”

***

Elena watched Ignazio walk down the stairs into the parlor. He
was dressed in black and red, his hair cut short, his hand on the
sword hanging from his belt. Elena listened to the clip clip clip of his
18 John Wick

heels on the stairs.

Horses outside. Her father and Felice as well. But he stopped for
a moment, pausing beside her. Looking down, he asked, “What are
you doing?”
Elena sat in front of a piece of paper and pencils. She had squared
off part of the paper and sketched a man in tall boots, black leathers,
a sword dangling from his belt.
“Practicing,” she said.
Ignazio looked at the portrait. A small girl’s hand drawing her
older brother. He smiled, just a little. “You’re very good,” he said.
She felt her blush warm her cheeks. “Nana says I have to make
my own sorte deck.”
Outside, Felice shouted Ignacio’s name. He shouted back, “One
moment!” Then, he turned back to Elena. “Your own deck, eh?”
Elena nodded. “Every strega has one,” she said. “She makes it
herself. And chooses which cards go in it.”
Ignazio picked up the paper and scanned it with his eyes. “And
who is this?” he asked.
“The Knight of Swords,” Elena said, avoiding his eyes.
“Tell me about him,” Ignazio said.
“He’s very honorable. And handsome. And he protects people.”
Felice shouted again: “Any day now!”
Ignazio put the paper down and touched Elena’s head. “Thank
you,” he said. Then he stood and walked toward the door. Elena
watched him leave, heard Felice mocking him. Then she went back
to the card and added a smile to the knight’s face.
 Daughter of Fate 19

2
Fifteen years old now. Her dresses designed to protect her modesty.
Elena sat on the other side of the door, listening to her mother
scream. She tried not to wince or flinch, but instead, focused on her
fingers, needles and twine.
Her mother shouted, “Please! Please!”
Her father was shouting, too, but Elena did not hear it. All she
could hear was her mother.
And then, a deep sound from her mother’s lips. Silence.
And a child, crying.
Her father opened the door and stepped through. Elena looked
up.
“A daughter,” he said.
Elena smiled. “That is good, Papá.”
He frowned at her. “What do you know of good and evil?” Then
he stomped away.
A moment later, the doctor came through the door. His brow
was wet and his moustache drooped over his lips. He wiped his
hands, his fingers and the white linen stained with blood. He looked
up and saw Elena.
“Would you like to see your sister?” he asked.
Elena nodded.
He gestured to the door. “Your mother is eager to see you.”
She stood and put her needles down, walking into the room.
There, she saw her mother holding a tiny baby. Elena felt her eyes
widen, her breath catch. Her heart started beating faster. She rushed
into the room, kneeling at the side of the bed.
Mother looked so weak. Her skin pale, her cheeks hallow. Her
20 John Wick

hair was matted to her forehead. Her lips white.

“Hello, little one,” Mother said. “This is your sister.”
The baby looked fragile. Soft. Her eyes still closed. She cried and
Mother cooed to her.
“Oh, Mamma,” Elena said, feeling tears rush into her eyes. She
couldn’t help the smile bursting on her face.
Mother said, “It is the tradition in our family that the elder
daughter names the new daughter.”
Elena looked up from her sister. “Me?” she asked.
Mother nodded. “It is one of the few liberties we have.”
Elena shook her head. “I...don’t know.”
“You have time,” Mother said.
Elena looked back down at her sister. One of her tears fell from
her chin onto the baby’s hand. Elena kissed it.
“Catarina,” she said. She looked at Mother. “Can we call her
Catarina?”
Mother nodded. “Sí,” she said. “We can.”

***

Elena’s fingers were blue. Stained with ink and paint. She sat in
the courtyard, overlooking the ocean. Before her was a small piece
of paper with the image of seven cups holding water, one of them
spilling. Nana sat beside her, napping. Elena heard her breath, wet
and uneven.
A tug on her sleeve. “Sorella?”
Elena looked down and saw Catarina. She was holding Elena’s
sleeve, trying not to fall. Her black hair curled around her face. Eyes
flashing in the warm sun. She was two years old, walking about.
Elena smiled.
“You are not supposed to be wandering around by yourself,”
 Daughter of Fate 21

Elena said. She picked Catarina up with her stained fingers and held
her. “Where is Fabriza?” she asked. “Where is your nanny?”
As if on cue, Fabriza came running from the house, her face
panicked. “Mio Dios!” she shouted.
Elena nodded. “I have her,” she said.
“Mie scuse!” she said, kneeling. “I was taking the bread from the
oven...”
“I understand, Fabriza,” Elena said. “Catarina is quite clever at
escaping.” She kissed her sister’s cheek. “There have been many times
she seemingly vanished from my sight.”
“Grazie, signorina,” Fabriza said. She extended her hands to take
the child.
“I will watch her,” Elena said. “Make certain the bread does not
burn.”
“Grazie, signorina,” Fabriza said again. Then, she ran off to
the kitchen.
Elena found a chair and sat, putting Catarina on her lap. “How
did you get away from Fabriza?” Elena asked, touching her sis-
ter’s nose.
Catarina just giggled and swatted at Elena’s hand.
Felice came out from the house. He saw his sisters and smiled,
spreading his arms. “Now there is a sight!” he said.
Elena turned Catarina so she could see her brother. “Look who
it is!” she said.
Felice ran forward and grabbed Catarina, tossing her into the air
and catching her. Catarina laughed.
“Be careful,” Elena said.
Felice said, “When have I ever been careful?” And he tossed
Catarina higher, catching her as she fell.
“All right,” Elena said. “I have to finish here.” She stood and
walked back to the easel, picking up her inks.
22 John Wick

“I remember when you were this big,” Felice said. “And I could...”
He threw Catarina into the air. “...I could throw you just like this!”
Elena said, “I remember. You terrified me.”
Felice held Catarina and stepped up to Elena’s easel. “You were
laughing.”
“I was laughing and terrified,” she said.
Felice kissed Elena’s cheek. “That is what you must do when you
are frightened, little raven.” He started walking back into the house,
but shouted over his shoulder. “You must laugh!”
Elena watched him swinging Catarina as he went back into the
house. She turned to the card. Eyed it.
“He is right,” Nana said.
Elena gasped, nearly dropping her ink. She looked at Nana. The
woman’s eyes were still closed.
“Laughing at danger,” she said, “will free your heart from fear and
make the danger fear you.”
Then, she started snoring again.
Elena watched Nana for a long moment, wondering if she would
speak again. Then, she started on the eighth cup.

***

The voyage from her home to the Villanova court took three
days. The carriages travelled with armed guards, including her two
brothers.
On the second morning of the trip, Nana watched as the ser-
vants dressed Elena. They finished and Nana said, “The veil.”
One of the servants nodded and began fitting a veil in Elena’s hair.
“Why do we wear it?” Elena asked.
“Because men are uncomfortable looking into the eyes of a sorte
strega,” she said. “They believe it will bring them bad luck.”
 Daughter of Fate 23

Elena laughed. “That’s not true,” she said.

Nana nodded under her own veil. “Let them believe it,” she said.
Elena looked at herself in the small mirror, the veil over her face.
She could not see her eyes. She saw Nana sitting behind her. She
remembered being younger, the fear of not being able to see Nana’s
face. Not knowing what she was truly thinking or feeling. Then, she
looked back at herself. She could see nothing. Not her eyes, not her
lips. No one would know if she was smiling or frowning. Or who
she watched.
“Maiden and the crone,” Elena said.
She heard Nana’s wet cackle under her veil. “Exactly,” she said.

***

Standing in the courtyard, she saw Ignazio and Felice dressed

in their uniforms. She felt so proud. Ignazio standing regal in the
saddle, his tall boots flashing. His long black hair shining in the
morning sun. Felice rode up next to him, his brown hair flopping
into his blue eyes.
Felice smiled down. “Hello, little raven,” he said.
She blushed at his nickname for her. “Ciao,” she said, her gaze
falling down. Then she remembered the veil. He could not see her
blush or her eyes.
Felice reached down to touch the veil. Elena smacked his hand.
He looked surprised, then laughed.
“Playing at mysterious like Nana?” he said.
“You are wearing your uniform,” she told him. “And so am I.”
He laughed out loud, his head back, laughing at the sky. “My
little raven!” he said.
Elena gave him a curtsey.
“Ignazio and I will guard you and Father and Mother.” He drew
24 John Wick

his sword, the long blade cutting through the chill morning air. “Any
bandits we encounter will regret even being born!”
Ignazio sighed. “You are not a knight from the days of old,” he
said, his voice deeper than his brother’s. “Put your sword away until
you need it.”
Felice laughed and sheathed his sword. “Ignazio has no sense of
adventure,” he said.
Ignazio replied, “And you have no sense of decorum or respect.”
He wasn’t even looking at his brother, keeping his eyes on the road
ahead of them.
Felice laughed at his brother, then he looked down at Elena.
“What do you think, sister? Which of us will prove the better husband
for our brides to be?”
Elena shook her head. “It is not my place to say.”
Felice said, “But you have the gift!” He turned his horse, moving
to stand beside Ignazio. “Look at us now. Tell our future.”
Elena felt a quiver in her belly. She looked away from them both.
“No. I shouldn’t.”
“Come along!” Felice said. “Look and tell us!”
Ignazio said, “Will you be silent for once?” His voice sounded
like her father’s.
Felice laughed. “You just know the truth. I will be the greatest
husband a woman could ever ask for.” He pulled the reins of his
horse. “And you, dear brother, your wife will be looking fondly at
vegetables.”
Ignazio rolled his eyes and pulled his horse away. Felice laughed
at his back. “You know it’s true!” he said. He turned back to Elena.
“Little raven, which of us will be the better husband?”
She kept her eyes pointed at the ground. “I do not know,” she said.
Then she felt herself being snatched up as Felice grabbed her by
the waist and pulled her into the saddle. He kicked the horse and
 Daughter of Fate 25

began riding, fast, along the road.

Elena laughed, almost screamed. The gallop of the horse. The
wind against her face, blowing the veil. Her braided hair blowing
behind her. Felice turned the horse, riding off the road. Trees
whipped by. Elena ducked under a low branch.
“Stop!” she shouted, laughing. Pounding on his chest. “Felice!”
He stopped. And there in the middle of the trees, she hugged
him. “You never do as you are told!” she said.
“Except when you tell me, raven,” he said. Then, at a prance, he
rode them back to the carriage.
Along the way, he said, “I shall have the greatest wife in all of
Vodacce.”
Elena smiled. “Yes,” she said. “I am sure you will.”
She leaned against his chest, feeling his heart beat. Elena remem-
bered when she was frightened by a storm. She was still a small girl,
crying in bed. And Felice was there. He held her then, too. She’d put
her head against his chest and heard his heart. And she fell asleep
that way. Elena was never frightened of storms again.
“But you, little raven,” he said. “What sort of husband shall we
find for you?”
Elena’s eyes blinked and she looked up at him. “Husband?”
she asked.
“Sí,” he said. “We must find you a good husband.”
Elena realized…she had never thought of being a wife. Only a
daughter and a sister.
“Have you eyes for any of the men who visited our father’s home?”
Suddenly, Elena was frightened again. Just like the night in
the storm.
“I…have not,” she said.
“Don’t worry, raven,” he said. “I’m sure Mother and Father will
find you a good one.”
26 John Wick

***

Three servants put the dress on her. Stitched it into place.

She remembered the first time she wore the corset. How it
bound her breath, making her lightheaded. She remembered the
shoes pushing her toes together and when she walked, they pleaded
with her to sit down. She could barely move her arms, the dress
keeping them below her shoulders. And the skirt made sure she took
tiny steps.
Her mother taught her how to breathe in the corset. How to
curtsey in it. And how to walk in the shoes. How to dance in them.
She wore the corset for the first time when she was nine. Now,
she felt awkward without it.
Felice entered the room, a small box in his hand. “You look
beautiful.”
She smiled. “Grazie.”
He offered the box. “A gift for my sister on her eighteenth
birthday.”
Elena felt her cheeks blush. She took the box from his hand.
“Grazie,” she said again.
“Open it,” Felice said. “Go on.”
Elena smiled and opened the box. Inside, a silver necklace with a
charm. A little silver raven.
Elena felt her eyes and throat swell. “Felice,” she said, her
voice catching.
“Let me put it on you,” he said. He stepped behind her. She lifted
her hair and he bound the clasp behind her neck. “There,” he said.
She touched the raven on her breast. “You...” she began, but
could not continue.
“Come,” he said. “Let us go down and see what lovers await us!”
Elena felt her blush deepen under the veil. He took her arm and
 Daughter of Fate 27

they walked out the door into the hallway.

Elena had never seen such a large house before. “How many
rooms?” she asked.
“Thirty,” he said. “And that’s just for the guests.” He pointed at
the ceiling. “Up there, there’s rooms for servants.”
He was dressed in black and green. His sword at his side, his
legs in tight pantaloons. Elena wished she could have been wearing
pantaloons. She was accustomed to the dress now, but still, she had
to take five steps for every one of his. Felice didn’t notice and she
didn’t say anything.
“You look very handsome,” she said.
“My sweet raven,” he said, kissing her forehead.
When they got to the stairs, he slowed his pace so she could
step down. The staircase seemed to go on forever. Elena counted the
steps. They were marble and her heels clicked, making an echo in
the foyer. Up above them, the ceiling was a painted fresco: a scene of
a man alone in a desert, reaching up for the sky.
“Who is that?” she asked.
Felice said, “That’s the First Prophet. His trial in the desert.”
She smiled, remembering the story.
A moment later, they reached the bottom. Elena had already for-
gotten about counting the stairs, the story on her mind. When they
stepped onto the landing, she could hear music. Servants bowed as
they passed by. A pair of them at the end of the corridor stood by
double doors. Elena and Felice stepped up, the servants opened the
doors, and the music burst through like a wave.
The room seemed larger than her parents’ home. Tall glass
windows from the floor to the ceiling, the crescent moon shining
through, stars against the black sky. A small orchestra playing as men
and women danced. Dresses, gowns, uniforms. And swords.
And Elena knew none of them.
28 John Wick

“Where are Mother and Father?” she asked. “Where is Ignazio?”

“I am here,” a familiar voice said. Elena turned and saw her brother,
standing on the other side of the door, leaning against the wall.
She smiled and left Felice’s arm, stepping up to him. “Why are
you here?” she asked.
“He’s hiding!” Felice said. “Hoping nobody notices him.”
Ignazio rolled his eyes and finished the wine in his glass.
“Ignazio,” she said. “Why are you here? In this corner?”
He shook his head. “It isn’t important.”
She touched his arm. “Will you dance with me?” she asked.
Ignazio opened his mouth to answer, but Felice laughed. “Him?
Dance?” Then, a guffaw. “Never.”
Ignazio glared at his brother. Felice took his sister’s arm. “Come,
raven. I will dance with you.” And he led her toward the floor. And
as they walked by Ignazio, Felice did not look at his brother at all.

***

Elena touched her brow with her handkerchief. Two dances with
Felice and she was thirsty. His hands were commanding and confi-
dent, making the dance almost effortless. But he was also quick and
left little room for error.
“I need to rest,” she said to her brother. “Please.”
He bowed and smiled. “Of course, but I won’t find a better
partner here.”
He took two glasses of wine from a passing servant and gave one
to her. “But another partner I will find. For I am not winded as you,
dear sister.”
She laughed and watched him wander away into the party, and
as she did, her eyes found Ignazio, standing by the tall windows,
looking out.
 Daughter of Fate 29

Elena moved through the party toward him, stopping a short

distance away.
“May I join you?” she asked.
Ignazio looked at her and nodded. “If you wish,” he said.
She looked to where his eyes were. Just a night sky, a crescent
moon and stars. She looked up at him. “You do not dance?” she asked.
“I do not dance,” he said. As simply as saying his name.
They stood there by the window for a little while. Sipping her
wine, she asked, “Why do you hide so much?”
He finished off his glass with one large swallow. “Perhaps you
mistake my secrecy for a lack of anything to see.” His eyes were not
on her, but far away. Out the window.
Again, Elena looked where her brother looked, but saw nothing.
Her eyes refocused and she saw the reflection of the room in the
glass, Ignazio and herself. In the reflection, she saw his face. Saw his
mouth, downturned. As if he had never learned to smile.
Then a cloud passed over her. A storm cloud. A presence stepping
up from behind. So potent, Elena could feel it without turning.
“Good evening,” a voice said. It was deep and rich, as if spoken
through a horn. Elena felt her stomach tremble and saw Ignazio’s
eyes refocus on the figure behind her. She turned and saw a tall man
standing far closer than she would ever want such a man standing
next to her. His beard close to his chin, his face nearly perfect. Eyes
as blue as the ocean at midnight, with strands of the silver moon.
Narrow nose, narrow cheeks, narrow jaw. And, Elena realized, the
perfect figure for the King of Coins.
Elena heard the click in her throat as she swallowed.
“Please allow me to introduce myself,” he said. “I am Giovanna
Villanova.”
Elena curtseyed, her knees trembling. “Sí,” she said. “You are.”
Her own response confused her, her mind fishing for anything to say.
30 John Wick

“Ignazio Mondavi,” her brother said, stepping forward, offering

his hand.
Villanova took it. Elena noticed their grips: squeezing tight. Vil-
lanova stood taller than Ignazio, but it wasn’t his height that made
him so... It was something else.
So, she looked.
What she saw was the blackest aura she had ever seen. Her eyes
sank into it, like the sensation of falling to sleep. From that aura, a
dozen black strands, like the limbs of an octopus, each leading to
different men in the room. And women.
Elena shut her eyes, then reopened them and saw Villanova
gazing at her.
“Do you like what you see?” he asked, a knowing smile on his lips.
Elena gasped. “I...” she began, but did not finish.
“Don Villanova,” Ignazio said, drawing attention back to himself.
“I believe my father has business with you.”
Villanova nodded. “Indeed,” he said. “I export your father’s
grain to the Sarmatian Commonwealth. It is a highly profitable
agreement.”
He turned to look at Elena. “And soon, our families will be even
closer.”
Elena trembled.
Villanova told Ignazio, “Your sister is as lovely as I was told.” He
smiled and Elena could only think of wolves. “What a bride she will
make.”
Ignazio was about to agree when someone shouted Villanova’s
name. A man. All of them turned to look.
He stood by a window, dressed in fine leather and velvet, his
head shaved. An angry, red scar across his face. He also wore a ban-
dolier across his chest, full of pistols, and a sword at his side.
“Crochetti,” Villanova said. He walked toward the man. “I do not
 Daughter of Fate 31

believe you were invited.”

Crochetti pulled two of the pistols from the bandolier and
pointed them at Villanova. Ignazio grabbed Elena and put her
behind him.
“You ruined me!” Crochetti screamed. Elena peered around
Ignazio’s arm. She saw the man’s hands shaking as he held the pistols.
Crochetti squeezed the trigger of one pistol and Elena had to cover
her ears. The pistol shot wide, hitting a servant. The man spun and
fell to the floor.
Villanova did not miss a step. He continued walking
toward Crochetti.
Crochetti dropped the pistol and fired the one in his left hand,
pulling another with his right. Smoke and fire. The bullet went by
Villanova and struck a mirror, shattering it.
As inevitable as dusk, Villanova maintained his pace.
Crochetti fired again, the bullet striking the floor by Villanova’s
boot. Villanova said, “You have one more shot.”
Crochetti dropped the pistol and aimed the last one at Villanova.
Only three paces away. Villanova stepped right into the barrel of the
pistol, putting it against his chest.
“One shot,” Villanova said, looking down at the man.
Crochetti’s hands shook like leaves in a storm. The pistol shiv-
ering as if it had been left out in the winter night. Crochetti’s eyes
brimmed with tears. He closed them...turned his face away...and
pulled the trigger.
Nothing happened. The hammer struck, the flint on steel...and
nothing happened.
Villanova snatched the pistol from Crochetti’s hand.
“Little man,” Villanova said. Crochetti’s legs bent in two different
directions and he fell to the floor.
Villanova turned back to the party, the pistol in his hand. “I
32 John Wick

apologize for this rude interruption.”

Then he shot Crochetti with his own pistol. Elena screamed. The
man’s body collapsed to the floor in a heap.
Villanova said, “I promise it will never happen again.”
He dropped the pistol. It made a heavy sound on the floor. Then
he walked back to Ignazio and Elena. “Signorina,” he said, bowing
to Elena. “Shall we walk in the garden?”
Elena felt her body trembling. But she nodded. “Sí.”
Ignazio stepped up. “I apologize, Don Villanova, but my sister
seems to have taken ill.”
Villanova looked at Ignazio, then at Elena. “Are you certain,
Mondavi? She seems fit to me.” He took Elena’s arm with a firm grip.
“Signorina,” he asked, “are you feeling well enough for a walk?”
Elena looked at Ignazio, then back at Villanova.
“I am,” she said. “My brother is always so worried about me.”
Villanova stepped her away from Ignazio. “As he should be,” he
said. They walked out of the room toward the garden doors.

***

In the garden, Elena heard soft music. She saw four men playing
instruments, just at the edge of the garden. Villanova said, “I love
music and I want to hear it wherever I go.”
Elena said, “They play very well.”
Villanova asked, “Do you play?”
Elena blushed. “Only a little. I showed more promise when it
came to art.”
They walked a little further toward a large hedge maze. Villanova
asked, “Art? Painting?”
Elena nodded. “I started with pencils. But my father encouraged
the skill.”
 Daughter of Fate 33

“As he should,” Villanova said. And they entered the maze.

Elena’s trembling had stilled, but she still felt the chill of fear in
her heart. She remembered what Nana said about fear. And she kept
on smiling.

***

In the morning, Elena woke early. She washed, dressed, and went
down to the balcony for breakfast. There she found Felice, looking
as if he had not slept at all. He raised a wine cup and saluted his
sister. He sat with a woman Elena did not recognize. She looked
much the same as Felice. Her dress was rumpled, her corset askew,
and the paint on her face a little smudged.
“Buongiorno,” he said. The woman giggled. “This is...” He paused,
looking at the woman.
“Lelia,” the woman said. She laughed.
“I am pleased to meet you,” Elena said, sitting at the table, select-
ing bits of fruit from a place in the center.
“We only met last night,” Felice said, filling Lelia’s cup with wine.
“But we are life long friends,” Lelia said, snuggling Felice.
“Life long,” Felice agreed.
Elena kept her eyes on the fruit, feeling nervous. She did not like
this woman. She didn’t even need to look at her to know it.
Felice asked, “Did you have a good time at the party?”
Elena nodded, looking at her brother for a moment, then avert-
ing her gaze back to her plate of fruit. “I did.”
“I saw you and Villanova walk into the garden maze,” Lelia said.
“What did you two do in there for so long?”
Elena bit into an apple slice and chewed.
Felice suddenly sat up. “What?” he asked.
Lelia said, “He walked her into the garden maze. And they stayed
34 John Wick

there.” She bit Felice’s ear. “For a very. Long. Time.”

Felice pushed himself out of the chair. It fell behind him, clatter-
ing on the balcony floor. “Is this true, Elena?”
Elena looked up at him. “Felice, it--”
“Is it true?” he shouted.
Elena felt panic fill her heart. She had never seen Felice like this.
No, that wasn’t true. She had seen it. Only directed at Ignazio. This
time, it was directed at her.
She didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know what to say. So, she
nodded. Just a little.
Felice grabbed the table and threw it over, shouting out loud.
Lelia was laughing.
“Where was Ignazio?” he shouted at Elena.
Lelia said, “Oh, he was there. Villanova took her right off his
arm.”
“Bastardo!” Felice shouted. He stomped toward the patio door,
his hand reaching for his sword.
“We talked!” Elena shouted.
Felice stopped at the door. He turned. “What did you say?”
“We talked. That was all.” She sat there, in her chair, a grape in
her hand. Her trembling hand. “Felice, I swear. We talked. That was
all.”
Felice stood by the door for a long moment, just staring at Elena.
“That was all,” she said again. “I promise you.”
Felice’s breath was hot, his chest heaving. “Ignazio should not
have allowed it,” he said. “That is something he must answer for.”
He stormed away.
Elena shut her eyes and took a deep breath. Felice believed her.
She had lied to her brother for the first time.
She thought of Ignazio. Of what kind of trouble this woman had
caused. And she knew she had to find her brothers before...
 Daughter of Fate 35

“Villanova can be a very persuasive man,” Lelia said.

Elena opened her eyes, looking at the woman sitting on the
opposite side of where the table used to be.
She said, “I’m sure all you did was talk.” She said it with a smile
on her face.
Elena felt her eyes narrow. And...she looked.
She squeezed the grape between her fingers. The juice rolled
down into her palm. She saw the thread between herself and Lelia
and she wrapped her fingers around it. And she pulled.
Lelia fell forward, right out of the chair, as if it had been kicked
from under her. She landed on her knees. Elena pulled again and the
woman slide right up to Elena, seated in her chair.
And when Elena spoke next, she did not hear her voice. She
heard Nana’s voice, mixed with her own. Like wine and water.
“You know what I am,” Elena said, the words as sharp as blades.
Lelia was shaking, her eyes wide open. “Y-yes,” she said.
“Then you know I can hurt you.” She twisted the strand, blood
oozing between her fingers.
Lelia voice broke. “Y-yes!”
“Never meddle with my family again,” Elena said.
Lelia said, “YES! I PROMISE!”
Elena let go of the strand, put her bloody palm against Lelia’s
face and pushed the woman away. Lelia fell to her back. She scram-
bled with both hands and feet, pushing herself up. And she ran.
Elena sat for a moment. She felt the cold pain on her palm.
Heard the dripping blood. For a moment, she wondered where that
voice came from. Was it hers?
She felt tears in her eyes. She put her hand up to wipe them, but
saw it was covered in blood. She grabbed a napkin from the fallen
table and put it in her palm, squeezing tight. She watched Lelia
running across the grass, lifting her wrinkled skirts to her knees so
36 John Wick

they would not slow her down.

“They will fear you,” Nana said.
Elena stood, spinning around. But no one was there.

***

She found them upstairs in Ignazio’s room. Felice screaming at

him, Ignazio still in his long chemise, seated on the edge of the bed,
trying to awaken.
“You let him walk away with her?” Felice screamed. “What were
you thinking?”
Ignazio rubbed his eyes. “What was I supposed to do, brother?”
Felice said, “Perhaps refuse? Perhaps?”
Ignazio shook his head. “Yes, that seems like a masterful plan.
Refuse Giovanni Villanova in his own home. Brilliant.”
Elena made a small sound. Felice turned. Ignazio looked up.
“I am here,” she said. “And I am well.”
Felice rushed forward and embraced her. “I am sorry,” he said.
“Sorry that our brother is such a coward.”
Ignazio put his head in his hands. “Yes, brother,” he said. “I’m
a coward.”
Felice asked, “Did he hurt you?”
Elena shook her head. “I told you. All we did was talk.”
“Is that all?” he asked.
“I told you before.” Elena spoke past Felice, talking directly to
Ignazio. “He wanted to know about me,” she said. “And our family.”
Felice asked, “He did not try anything?”
Elena scowled at him. “No,” she said. “He has no such inten-
tions.” She sighed. “He wants me to marry his son.”
Felice almost laughed. He let go of Elena and stepped back into
the room. “That whelp?” he scoffed. “Giovanni will have to do the
 Daughter of Fate 37

honors himself on the wedding night.”

Ignazio’s head snapped up. “Felice!” he hissed.
Felice looked up at Elena, his face wrapped in apology. “I’m sorry,
raven,” he said. “I wasn’t thinking.”
Ignazio stood. “You never think,” he said. “You just act.”
“And you never act,” Felice said. “You just let Giovanni Villanova
walk our sister into a hedge maze.”
“He shot a man, Felice,” Elena said. Both of them looked at her.
“Just before it happened. He killed a man. Right in front of everyone.”
Ignazio stepped forward, putting his hand on Felice’s shoulder.
“They would have buried me right next to him,” he said, “if I refused.”
He turned to Elena. “You talked?”
“Yes,” she said.
He nodded. “I trust our sister,” he said to Felice. “Don’t you?”
Felice nodded. “Yes. Yes, I do.”
“Good, then this is over. Let me be so I can prepare for breakfast.”
Elena and Felice left the room, walking back down to the patio.
“Do you think there’s any food left over?” he asked.
“I think there will be enough food to feed three parties,” she said.
And as they walked down, Elena caught her breath. Lying to
Ignacio was harder than lying to Felice.

***

The second night of the party, she wore her favorite green dress.
Father was in the corner of the ballroom, away from the dance
floor. He spoke with other older men, all of them linked by strands
of shimmering gold. Mother was wrapped up in strands the same
hue as her dress, chattering away.
Elena saw Felice dancing with a woman she did not recognize.
She did not see Emanuela. With that thought, she allowed herself
38 John Wick

a small, wicked smile. Ignacio was by the window again, holding a

cup of wine, staring out at the sea and stars.
She made her way over to him, touching his shoulder. He turned
and nodded. “Sister,” he said.
She stood by him, looking out the window. She asked, “What
are you looking for?”
“Looking at.” He pointed up at the sky. “Up there,” he said. “The
stars move, Elena. Did you know that?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“The sailors use them to find their way,” Ignazio said. “I was
reading a pamphlet about it. They call it ‘celestial navigation.’”
Elena said the words out loud. “Celestial navigation.” She smiled.
“It sounds pretty.”
He nodded. “It is a skill I would like to learn.”
“You wish to be a sailor?” she asked.
He smiled at her. “No, far too dangerous with Elena the Pirate
out on the seven seas.”
Elena laughed. So hard, she nearly spilled her drink. “It is good
to see you smile,” she said. “It has been a while.”
He looked back out at the sky. “I will miss you when you go.”
“It won’t be for another year or so,” she said.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “You’ll be gone for a very long time.”
Elena heard the sadness in his voice. It was not a sound she was
used to. She reached out to touch his hand.
“Would you dance w--”
Doors blew open. Elena saw the reflection of the doors as a
rainbow stepped into the room. Elena turned and saw a woman
in what appeared to be seven different dresses, all of them differ-
ent colors. She wore a mask. A feathered mask that covered most
of her face. And her dress was cut high, her naked thighs peeking
through the cut. Elena felt her mouth open and she tried to speak,
 Daughter of Fate 39

but nothing happened.

“Buonasera!” the woman shouted. Even the orchestra stopped, as
if to take a look at her. “Now the party can truly begin!” It was the
most beautiful voice Elena had ever heard.
“Dal Propheta,” Ignazio gasped.
Elena watched as the woman stepped into the room. She scooped
up two glasses of wine from a servant’s tray and drank them both
down as quickly as Ignazio did. Laughing. She did not walk like a
woman. Her pace and stride were not hindered by her dress, cut
almost to her hip. Her heels were as tall as Elena’s finger, putting her
at eye level with every man in the room.
Elena had never seen such a woman. She was beautiful. Immod-
est. The men were almost afraid to look at her, let alone speak to her.
And the women glared at her with pure hatred.
She passed by each man, touching his face. And she said names.
Elena watched as each man blushed. Some even turned away.
Elena turned to her brother and saw his face was as red as the
wine. His eyes wide with anger. Or…was it…
Elena looked.
The light that shined into her eyes made her nearly scream. A
thousand different strands from all over the room where shining, the
whole of them shining brighter than the sun.
She covered her eyes and bowed her head. She felt her brother’s
hand on hers. “Elena, what is wrong?”
“Too bright,” she said. “I…”
The woman’s voice rang out again. Elena heard it, but she was
afraid to look. Afraid to open her eyes again. The light was so bright,
she was afraid she would not be able to see.
“I am here!” the woman said. “All you sour, sad women who want
to know where your husbands go… I am here!”
Elena felt her brother’s hand squeeze on her own and she made
40 John Wick

a small sound. He eased his grip. “I am sorry,” he said. “I… She…”

The woman spoke again. “You did not want to invite me because
you were afraid what you might see! Well, now you’ve seen me. And
you know exactly why you were so afraid!”
“Dannazione,” Ignazio cursed.
Elena opened her eyes. She could see. No strands. Just her
brother. And the men and women behind him, all seemingly para-
lyzed by the woman’s presence.
“Ignazio,” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “Who is
she?”
“Rosina de Falisci,” he said.
“She is beautiful,” Elena said, her eyes fixed on the woman.
“Yes,” Ignazio said. “And she is going to get herself killed.”
Elena felt her heart sink. “Killed?”
Rosina made her way about the room, coming closer to where
they stood. When she saw Elena’s brother, she shouted his name and
ran to him.
“Ignazio!” she said, rushing up to him, pressing herself against
him. She tried to kiss him, but he turned away.
Elena felt her breath catching in her chest. For the first time in
many years, the corset felt as if it would squeeze her heart.
“You deny me?” the woman asked. “Ignazio?”
“Madame,” he said. “I am certain you are mistaking me for
someone else.”
“Not my Ignazio,” she said, caressing his cheek. She leaned close
and whispered something in his ear. Then her brother grabbed her
arms and shoved the woman away.
Rosina fell off her high heels, crashing to the ground, her legs
exposed. She looked up at Ignazio and from behind her mask, Elena
saw her lips tremble. Then, steady.
Rosina pushed herself to her feet. By then, Felice was at her side,
 Daughter of Fate 41

helping her up.

“Rosina,” he said, his voice as kind and gentle as Elena had ever
heard it. The woman smiled at him, accepting his aid.
Ignazio rushed forward, pushing his younger brother away.
“Stolto!” he shouted.
Elena had seen them fence and fight before. But something else
was here. Something…
Closing her eyes to a narrow window, Elena looked.
And she saw exactly what was happening.
Ignazio shouted, “How dare you dishonor our father’s name!” He
shoved Felice back. Felice stumbled, but kept his balance.
“Ignazio!” Elena shouted. But he did not hear.
“Dishonor?” Felice shouted at his brother, still backing away.
“You dishonor her!”
“Felice!” Elena cried. But he did not hear. And as she looked, she
saw a strand slowly weaving between them.
A black strand. The death strand.
“NO!” she shouted. But they didn’t hear.
Ignazio shouted, “She is nothing! A whore!”
The crowd gasped.
For the first time, Felice shoved his brother. “Nothing? She is
Rosina de Falisci! The greatest courtesan in all of Vodacce! And you
call her a whore?”
Nobody was moving. Elena felt as if her legs were made of stone.
The black strand twirled and knotted, growing tighter…thicker.
Ignazio curled his hand into a fist and threw it into his brother’s
jaw.
“Ignazio!” Elena cried out, feeling tears on her cheeks.
The strand connected her brothers, as black as the night outside.
Felice on the floor, his eyes unfocused, his lip bleeding. Ignazio’s
hand on his sword.
42 John Wick

Elena looked at the red strand between her and Ignazio. The
black strand nearly devouring it. The red strand between them
fraying, nearly gone. Elena reached forward to touch it...but she
hesitated. Nana warned her not to touch black strands. “Every
strand you touch,” she said, “links to you.” She remembered Nana’s
warning. “There are always consequences you cannot anticipate.”
She curled her fingers around it. Felt its icy sharpness in her grip.
Just then, Elena heard a voice. A familiar voice. It sounded like
her mother. It whispered to her.
Don’t pull the strand.
She turned to see where it came from, but saw nothing. Only
men watching the two brothers. And they were smiling.
She turned back. Saw Ignazio and Felice. The black strand had
nearly devoured both of them. Her heart was pounding. She couldn’t
breathe. She looked at Ignazio…
… and pulled.
Ignazio stopped. Turned. Looked at her.
“My brother,” she said, her eyes so wet, she could barely see.
She saw Ignazio’s eyes, full of fire and rage, suddenly turn to
confusion.
“Please,” Elena said, her voice breaking. “Dance with me.”
Ignazio’s lips opened. And then smiled.
Behind him, Felice stood, dagger in hand. And he plunged the
blade into his brother’s back.
Elena screamed. Watching the black strand devour all of Ignazio’s
strands. His body held still on Felice’s blade.
His body fell forward, to his knees. Rosina ran forward, catching
Ignazio’s body as it fell.
Elena looked at Felice. Saw his Arcana change. Darken. Ignazio’s
blood dripping from the knife in his hand.
She saw Rosina screaming, holding Ignazio’s body. “Il dottore!”
 Daughter of Fate 43

she screamed. Over and over again, her face wet and red.
Elena felt her legs melt.
And then, she felt nothing.
44 John Wick

3
Upstairs, in the rooms Giovanni had given him, Ignazio lay bleeding
to death. Elena held his hand.
A mirabilis from the church arrived, carrying medical tools. He
was an old man, but his blue eyes were sharp and clear. His hands
did not tremble. He spoke with an accent Elena did not recognize.
He put Ignazio to sleep with a rag over his mouth that smelled
so wretched, Elena was almost sick. Then he went about curing
Ignazio’s wound.
“Where are you from?” she asked the miribilis.
“Castille,” he told her.
“Which province of Vodacce is that?”
He looked at her, a confused light in his eyes. “It is very far away.
Now, please, be quiet while I work.”
Elena said nothing more, only watched.
At first, he cut the wound deeper. Elena did not understand why.
She wanted to ask, but remembered his request. The blood and the
sight of opening her brother’s skin almost made her pass out again.
But she squeezed Ignazio’s hand. Somehow, that kept her awake.
He stretched out Ignazio’s skin and put tools in the wound.
“Much damage,” the mirabilis said. “This will take most of the night.”
And it did. Sometimes, she had to turn away. But Elena never
stopped holding Ignazio’s hand.
The moon was deep in the horizon when the doctor finished.
Elena’s father had already fallen asleep. Her mother was in a panic.
The mirabilis gave her medications to help her sleep as well. When
he asked Elena, she shook her head. “No,” she said. “I will stay with
him.”
 Daughter of Fate 45

The mirabilis nodded. “Very well,” he said. “If he wakes, I will be

in a room down the hall.”
Elena nodded. She watched Ignazio, hearing the door open
behind her, then close.
She tightened her grip. “Ignazio,” she whispered. “Please forgive
me.”
“What did you do?” a feminine voice asked. It came from the
corner, by a large painting. Elena saw the painting had been pushed
away, a corridor beyond it. And standing beside it was a woman.
The woman. Rosina de Falisci.
She was in the same dress, but her hair had fallen around
her face. Her eyes were black and smeared, her skin pale. At first,
Elena thought she was a ghost. But as Rosina came closer, that fear
slipped away.
“Why are you here?” Elena asked. “How did you get into the
room?”
Rosina gestured behind her. “A discretionary door known to
those of my profession,” she said. Elena looked beyond her at the
painting again. It was as she said: a door disguised as a painting.
“Why would anyone disguise a door as a painting?” Elena asked.
“To preserve your brother’s honor,” Rosina said. She knelt down
on the other side of Ignazio and took his other hand.
“You…” Elena began, but stopped. Rosina did not look at her,
only at Ignazio’s still face. “You are a courtesan.”
Rosina nodded, still fixed on Ignazio. She said nothing.
The question Elena asked next hesitated on her tongue for a long
while. Then, finally, she asked, “What is a courtesan?”
Rosina looked up from Ignazio, turning to Elena. “You don’t
know, do you?”
Elena shook her head gently. “No.”
“Do they teach you nothing?” Rosina asked.
46 John Wick

“I can needlepoint,” Elena said.

“Can you read?”
Elena shook her head. “It’s impolite.”
Rosina almost chuckled, the corner of her mouth rising. “Impo-
lite.” She looked back at Ignazio. Then, she looked back. “You are
the sister,” she said. “Elena.”
Elena nodded. “Yes.”
Rosina took a deep breath. Elena saw a tear escape the woman’s
eye. Rosina said, “A courtesan is a woman skilled in entertaining a
man.”
“With song and music?” Elena said.
Rosina’s smile blossomed. “Yes,” she said. “But not just song and
music.”
“When I try to sing, my mother tells me I’m flat,” Elena said.
Rosina looked back at Ignazio, lifting his hand to hold it in both
of hers. “A little training can cure that.”
“Who is your husband?” Elena asked.
Rosina’s chest heaved. Her breath caught in her throat and she
bit her lip. One hand reached out, touching Ignazio’s brow. “I do not
have a husband,” she said.
“I’m sorry that you are a widow,” Elena said. “I did not mean to
make you sad.”
Rosina looked at Elena, a deep sorrow in her eyes. “I am not a
widow,” she said. “I have never married.”
Elena shook her head, confused. “Why not?”
“Because I do not have the gift,” she said. “Women who do not
have the gift have three choices. The church, the washing well, or…”
She paused. “Becoming a courtesan.”
Elena asked, “Can I be a courtesan?”
Rosina smiled, tears rolling down her cheeks. “No, my love.
Because you have the gift.”
 Daughter of Fate 47

Elena shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

“They haven’t taught you anything, have they?” Rosina asked.
“Ignorant and obedient.”
Elena frowned. She didn’t fully understand what Rosina said, but
she was pretty certain it wasn’t a compliment.
“This is the way of the world,” Rosina said. “In Vodacce, women
are property. We are not people, we are property. We are owned. Men
decide what we will be based on our gifts. If you can see fate, you
become an obedient wife. You aren’t allowed to learn how to read
or write or even how to think.” Her voice was delicate, breaking on
every other word. “You are invaluable. Still property, but invaluable.”
She said, “But if you do not have the gift, you are disposable.
And dismissed.” She sighed, clutching Ignazio’s hand. “I was pretty.
And I could sing. So, I became a courtesan.” She looked down at his
face. “One of the best…until…”
She broke completely, her voice dissolving into sobs. She touched
Ignazio’s face and whispered his name.
Elena wanted to say something to comfort her, but did not know
what to say. Her lips opened. “You are very pretty.”
Rosina looked at Elena, a sad smile on her face. “You’re very
kind,” she said. “Ignazio was so proud of you. He talked about you
all the time. Said how smart you were.” She reached forward and
touched Elena’s cheek.
“Remember this, Elena,” she said. “In Vodacce, if you are a
woman, you have two fates. You are either a tool…or a toy.”
Elena blinked, tried to say something, but failed.
Outside, footsteps. Rosina looked up, her face in a panic. She
kissed Ignazio’s still lips. Then, she stood, backing up toward the
painting. When she reached it, she whispered.
“Elena…”
Elena leaned forward to hear her.
48 John Wick

“Never fall in love.”

She shut the painting behind her just as men entered the room.
 Daughter of Fate 49

4
Ignazio sat in his chair on the patio, watching the autumn sun set.
Elena stepped up behind him, carrying a small basket. The towels in
the basket were hot, steaming.
He looked up at her, his face pale and thin.
“Hello, Ignazio,” she said. He didn’t say anything.
She knelt down beside him, cool evening wind on her skin. “It is
a beautiful sunset, isn’t it?” she asked.
Ignazio did not reply. His eyes focused on the horizon.
She took a hot towel from the basket, holding it carefully. “These
are still a little too hot.” Elena let it cool for a moment before she
lifted his gown and laid it on his naked leg. “Father says the ships
should be arriving any day now. From the East. Bringing the dates
you love.”
He said nothing. His lips unmoving.
She laid another towel on his leg. It was thin. Barely any muscle.
He had lost so much in so little time.
She finished washing his legs and put the wet towels away. Slowly,
she dried them.
She felt pressure behind her eyes. She sniffed. “Mother says I will
meet my fiancé tomorrow.” Elena touched his hand. “Ignazio,” she
said. But he didn’t reply.
She took a deep breath and said the words she said every day
since the autumn. “You don’t have to say anything. It’s all right.”
When she was finished, she stood and walked back into the
house.

***
50 John Wick

Elena was not allowed in the library. The one room her father
forbid her to enter. And when the guests arrived, the two men
went with her father into that room. The women joined Elena and
her mother on the veranda. The sun was still in the mid-morning
sky and the ocean’s wind cooled their skin as the hour raised up
toward noon.
The woman looked the same age as Elena’s mother. Her name
was Valentina. Her dress had diamonds woven into the fabric. She
wore a veil when she entered the house, but removed it as soon as
the men left the room. Her skin was alabaster and flawless. Her eyes
were dark and deep. And when she entered the room, she looked
at Elena. Her hands folded in front of her, she looked like a doll.
Distant eyes. Perfect skin. Menacing and inhuman.
“She will look at you,” Elena’s mother had told her earlier. “When
she does, stand still and say nothing.”
Elena stood still, as motionless as she could. And when Valentina
was done, she nodded. “Bene,” she said. Then they all sat and drank
tea. Elena noticed Valentina did not touch her mother’s cookies.
Later, a servant arrived, announcing the men would be joining
them shortly. All the women returned the veils to their faces. Elena’s
was the most transparent.
The men emerged from the library and joined them on the
veranda: the father and the son, together. But Elena saw the father
before she saw the son. He eclipsed the doorway. Not with his size,
but his presence. Elena did not need to look to see him. The veranda
belonged to him the moment he entered.
Giovanni Villanova was taller than her father. He looked exactly
the same as the last time she saw him. Elena looked at his eyes and
saw nothing. Saw nothing. She felt her body shiver when those eyes
fell on her. Like she was lesser than him. The way a wolf looks at prey.
The cup in Elena’s hands shook. And he noticed it. His glance from
 Daughter of Fate 51

her to her trembling fingers.

And he smiled.
She remembered the time in the garden maze. His smile. His
voice. His questions. And his promise.
The boy followed as if he wore a leash.
The father stepped forward and Elena stood, requiring both
hands on the table to keep her balance. Her mother took Elena’s
hand and helped her around the table.
“Signore Villanova,” her mother said.
Using her mother’s hand for balance, Elena curtseyed, lowering
her eyes.
“I am as equally enchanted as the first time we met,” he said,
taking her hand. His lips touched her gloved fingers. His voice, like
a predatory growl. “Piacere di conoscerti.”
His hands were strong. Fingers long. Like his limbs. Elena said,
“Benevenuto, signore.”
Villanova let go of her hand. Elena felt him release his grip and
took a breath. He turned, gesturing to the boy behind him.
“My son,” he said. “Demetrio.”
The boy stepped forward. He was younger than Elena, his eyes
inattentive. He stepped forward and took her hand, bowing to kiss it.
“Incantanto,” he said, as if he were saying it to someone who
wasn’t in the room. Or as if he were thinking of someone else while
he said it.
Elena curtseyed again and smiled.
Both of them sat at the table. Elena heard the sound of Signore
Villanova’s sword, hanging from his hip, as it hit the metal chair.
The men talked more. Talk of trade and the news of the day.
Rumors from the mainland. The women remained silent.
As the men talked, Elena watched, but did not look. She heard
Villanova’s words and sensed a subdued malice behind everything he
52 John Wick

said. He’d even made his greeting to her sound like a veiled threat.
Elena’s father said, “We should toast.” He stood, holding up a
glass of wine. “To the bond this marriage will bring to both our
families.”
And as soon as he said those words, Elena felt a shift. As if the
sun had gone behind a cloud.
Villanova sat quietly for a moment. A very long moment. Too
long. He did not stand. Did not reach for his glass. Elena’s father
stood alone. Finally, he said, “The purpose of this marriage is not
to unite our families,” Villanova said. “It is to salvage what is left of
yours.”
Elena saw her father standing alone. He opened his mouth to
speak, but said nothing.
“You are a man with two sons: a cripple and an outlaw,” Villanova
said. “This is not unity. This is not an equal exchange. Your farms
will be mine. Your contracts will be mine. That is what this marriage
does, Mondavi. Do not mistake it for anything else.”
Elena saw her father’s fingers squeezing the glass. Elena feared he
might shatter it in his grip. Then his eyes turned sharp and he said,
“My crippled son is twice the man yours is, Villanova.”
Villanova stood fast, kicking the chair out from behind him.
Elena gasped, her mother screamed. Villanova moved so quickly.
His chest against her father’s chest, looking down at him.
Her father said, “I know what the strega say about my daughter.”
He grinned. “Trade routes aren’t the only thing you’re getting.”
He pointed at Valentina. “You think I didn’t know what your
wife was doing when she looked at my daughter? Wanted to see it
herself, didn’t she?”
Elena felt confused. She looked at her mother, but her mother
only looked at her own shoes. Elena looked at Valentina. The woman
sipped her tea, gazing into the cup.
 Daughter of Fate 53

“Wanted to see my daughter’s Arcana, didn’t she?” her father said.

Villanova stood over her father like a storm. Black clouds rum-
bling. Lightning ready to strike. He had his hand on the pommel of
his sword. Elena’s father didn’t carry a sword. He’d always relied on
Ignazio.
“Well, now she’s seen it. And she knows. And you know.” Elena’s
father’s fingers clenched into fists. He looked so small next to Vil-
lanova. Before, he had always seemed so large. Only now did she
realize how small he was.
“And you know,” he said again. “Shall we continue our conversa-
tion? Or do I need to get a servant to fetch my sword?”
That was the longest moment. Right there. Between her father’s
last words and Villanova’s next.
Finally, Villanova smiled. “Why would I want to murder my
son’s future father-in-law?” he asked, his fingers moving from the
pommel of his sword to his belt.
They remained like that for another few panicked heartbeats.
Until, finally, her father stepped away. Not back, but away. Both
men returned to their chairs.
There was little talk after that between the men. The women
said nothing.

***

Elena and Demetrio walked along the beach, the rest of the party
behind them at a discrete distance. They did not hold hands. They
did not touch. They did little speaking. She watched him looking
out at the sea. When she asked him questions, he glanced at her, but
his eyes turned back to the blue waters.
“You wish to be a sailor?” Elena asked.
He nodded. “Sí,” he said. That was all.
54 John Wick

“I suppose your father has other plans for you,” Elena said.
He nodded again, but didn’t say anything.
They walked a little further, silence between them.
Elena said, “My brother pretends I’m a pirate.” She smiled. “I
suppose that means the two of us would be enemies.”
“Sí,” he said again.
Elena watched him closely. Then, she looked at him.
Very dim light. The strongest strand was to his father. A weaker
strand to something across the water. Elena remembered the cour-
tesan’s words.
Disposable.
“I am very good at needlepoint,” she said. “And I have been paint-
ing since I was very young.”
He didn’t reply.
“I would like to paint your portrait,” she said.
He turned to look at her, a sad smile on his lips. “Thank you for
trying,” he said. “But we are both pawns in a great game of chess.”
Then, he looked back at the sea.
Elena felt the sadness in his voice. It struck her like a hammer
to the chest. She looked back at the families following them. The
men and women in two groups, walking slowly, watching them. Her
mother’s face painted with concern.
Elena said, “I don’t play chess. Can you teach me?”
Demetrio looked back at her with the same smile. “Sí,” he said.
“And I look forward to sitting for your portrait.”
Elena smiled. She reached out to take his hand. He did not resist.

***

When the sun reached the horizon, turning the sky purple and
gold, Elena walked out onto the patio with a basket of hot towels.
 Daughter of Fate 55

Her brother was in his chair, the chair with wheels.

She knelt down beside him. “I met the man I’m to marry,” she
said, raising his gown, placing the hot towel on his leg. “His name
is Demetrio.”
Ignazio didn’t say anything, his eyes fixed on the horizon.
“We walked along the beach,” she said. “The rest of them fol-
lowed us at a distance.” Rubbing down his thighs, then his shins. “I
tried talking to him, but he doesn’t know anything about the things
I know about.”
She lifted his ankle, rubbing the bottom of his feet.
“He likes chess.” She put one towel away and took out another,
the smell of the medicine on her fingers and palms. “And he seems
gentle.”
Elena paused for a moment. She looked up at her brother, at his
empty eyes looking beyond her.
“You will walk again,” she said. “I know you will.”
She took a deep breath and said the words she said every day
since the autumn. “You don’t have to say anything. It’s all right.”
When she was finished, she stood and walked back into the
house.
But then, behind her, she heard her brother say her name.
Elena paused. She turned. “Ignazio?” she asked.
His eyes brimming with tears.
“Dance with me,” he said.
Elena dropped the basket and hugged him. Kissed him.
She took his hands, standing in front of his chair, and slowly
danced. And when tears found his eyes, they found hers.
56 John Wick

5
Elena sat at the small table, Ignazio on the other side. She dealt the
cards. He took them with his left hand while his right lay under the
table.
“How are you coming along with your own deck?” he asked,
looking at his cards.
Elena smiled. “Very well,” she said. “I think I have decided on
the Arcana.”
On the table before each of them sat dates and raisins. Elena
looked at her cards. Then, peering over them with a grin, she took
two of her raisins and put them in the center of the table.
Ignazio raised an eyebrow. “A cautious bet, sister,” he said. He
put a date on the table next to her raisins.
Elena tried to keep her lips from smiling, remembering her
brother’s advice about giving away so much with her face. But
playing primero with Ignazio was too much fun.
“I’m glad you are almost finished,” he said. “I liked what you did
with the coin suit.” He dropped one card from his hand, pushing it
toward Elena.
She put Ignazio’s card aside and dealt him another. Then, she put
two of her own cards down and dealt herself two more.
“We won’t need to use this old deck anymore,” he said, picking up
his new card. “The cards are too soft.”
Elena felt the cards between her fingers. They were old. Very
old. They belonged to Nana. When she was sick, she gave the deck
to Elena.
“Make your own,” Nana said, her voice wet and rough. “A strega
always makes her own deck.”
 Daughter of Fate 57

For years, Elena practiced, her fingers stained with ink and
colored oils. Practicing for when she would paint her own deck. And
as she finished each card, she showed them to Ignazio.
She pushed two more raisins to the center of the table. Ignazio
shook his head. “I do not think so,” he said. He pushed out
another date.
Elena smiled. “Fluxus,” she said, showing her hand full of cups.
Ignazio looked at his cards and sighed. “You win,” he said. He
put down his cards, face up. “Supremus,” he said, showing the 7, 8
and 9, all swords.
Elena giggled and moved the fruit to her side of the table.
“Are you looking at my cards?” he asked.
She shook her head as she collected the deck together. “No,”
she said.
He smiled. “I mean, are you looking at my cards?”
Elena said, “I can’t do that.” She put the deck together carefully,
then began counting them out into piles on the table for shuffling.
“I think you’re more than lucky,” he said. “I think something is
going on.”
She dealt out all the cards, then put them back into a deck. Then,
she smeared them over the table, mixing them again. “I think you’re
letting me win by choosing bad hands.”
Ignazio shook his head. “No, dear sister, I promise you. I am not.”
He laughed a little. “In fact, it’s rather funny how good you are at
this. I used to have quite a reputation for primero.”
“Where?” Elena asked, squaring up the deck.
Ignazio stopped. He looked across the table. Elena was focused
on the cards.
“In Falisci,” he said. “In the brothels.” He watched Elena carefully.
Her eyes remained focused on the cards.
“Oh,” she said. She looked up from the cards, smiling. “Are you
58 John Wick

ready for another hand?”

Ignazio nodded. “Yes,” he said. With his left hand, he tapped the
center of the table. “Put your bet in.” He pushed in one raisin.
He watched Elena deal the cards. Her fingers moving over each
one with confidence. She didn’t even need to look. The cards slid in
front of him, with perfect placement.
“You deal like an expert,” he said.
She finished the deal, picking up her hand. “I practice,” she said.
“Nana said it was important to practice.”
Ignazio looked at his cards, his hand showing very little promise.
He looked at Elena. Her eyes were lit up with excitement. “Finito,”
he said, laying his cards down.
Elena looked up, a sadness washing over her previously happy
aura. “Oh,” she said. “Are you sure?”
He nodded. “Very sure,” he said. “Elena, let us talk about bluffing.”
 Daughter of Fate 59

6
Nana was on the downstairs porch, snoring. Elena sat nearby at
her easel, nearly finished with the final card of her deck. Nana sat
slumped in a chair, her cane held limply in her hand.
Elena liked afternoons like this. The sea wind was fresh and cool,
the sun warm on her skin. She did not need to wear the veil. Her
father was away, Ignacio sitting upstairs, looking over the books.
Somewhere in the house, Catarina was playing.
Elena’s wedding was only weeks away. Last night, when she tried
on the dress, Nana had scowled. “You are showing too much,” she’d
said, gesturing at the dress.
Elena’s mother had shaken her head. “Nonsense,” she’d said,
fixing a sleeve.
Nana had insisted, “She is not a trollop out on display.”
Elena had looked down. The dress covered most of her body,
showing only a little. “I don’t understand, Nana.”
Nana had murmured something under her breath and wandered
away, leaning heavily on her cane.
Elena’s mother had assured her, “Do not worry about her. You
look beautiful.”
Elena felt the wind pick up and she held the card to the easel.
She looked at Nana, the wind blowing her dress around her ankles
and wrists. Then, the wind died down and she went back to work.
“Your wedding dress makes you look like a courtesan,” Nana
grumbled from her chair.
Elena smiled. “Nonsense,” she said. “I’ve seen how a courtesan
dresses.”
Nana grumbled again. Then, she said, “You are lucky Villanova
60 John Wick

will marry you now. After what happened to your brothers.”

Elena said, “He doesn’t want me for my brothers.” The tone in
her voice was sharp.
Nana laughed. “Oh, look who is confident now.” She pointed
her cane at Elena. “Go to one party and suddenly, you are the wisest
woman in the world.”
“I am not the wisest woman in the world,” Elena said. “I am just
not the same girl you found when you came here, Nana.”
When Nana spoke next, her voice was low. As if she were choking.
She said, “You have to stop him.”
Elena stopped and turned. “What did you say, Nana?”
“Villanova,” she said. “Tied you to a chair.”
Elena looked at Nana. The old woman’s eyes were almost white
with cataracts, as white as her teeth. A little drool on her lip.
“What are you talking about?” Elena asked.
“Black strands,” she said. “A secret name. Real she are hay.”
Elena stood, “Nana? What...”
Nana spoke again, but it wasn’t with her voice. It was a man’s
voice. “While your sister watches.”
The old woman made a wet sound in her throat. Then, her body
spasmed, like a fish on the end of a hook. Elena jumped from her
easel and ran to her, shouting.
“Nana!”
The old woman fell from her chair into Elena’s arms. Her arms
and legs stiff. Her lips spitting up.
Elena looked back at the house. “Help!” she screamed. “Please!”
Then, she felt Nana’s hand on her cheek. She looked back at the
old woman. She was suddenly very still. A smile on her wet lips.
“Elena,” she said. Then, her hand fell and Elena felt Nana’s last
breath on her face.
 Daughter of Fate 61

***

Elena had never been to the family cemetery. She had heard of
it many times, but did not know where it was, nor did she have any
desire to visit. Now she stood before a marble building, the gate and
doors locked. Nana’s coffin carried by servants and her father.
She stood beside her sister, holding Catarina’s hand. Her mother
stood beside them both. Elena’s mother staggered a little and Elena
remembered smelling wine on her breath.
The servants and her father put Nana’s casket in the mausoleum
and then closed the door behind them. He made the Prophets’ Cross
and put his hand on the closed door. Then, they all walked back to
the house.
Later in the afternoon, Elena sat with Catarina. She had finished
her deck and Catarina was asking about the cards.
“What is this one?” Catarina asked.
“It is the Magician,” Elena said. “His Arcana is very powerful. It
means someone with a great will.”
Catarina looked up from the cards. “What is my Arcana?”
she asked.
Elena remembered asking Nana that question and the way Nana
did not answer it. She looked at Catarina and saw her Arcana.
“Everyone has two,” she said. “A virtue and a hubris.” Elena
went through her deck and selected two cards. She laid the first one
between them, facing Catarina.
“This is your virtue,” she said. “It is called The Prophet.”
Catarina smiled and clapped. “I know him!” she said. “What
does it mean?”
“It means you are very good at telling lies from truth,” Elena said.
She laid the second card across the first. “This is your hubris,” she
said. “It is called The Beggar.”
62 John Wick

Catarina frowned. “I don’t like that one.”

“It is still a part of you,” Elena said, smiling. “And it means you try
to get things that belong to others instead of earning them yourself.”
“No I don’t!” Catarina said, her frown deepening.
“And where are all my dolls?” Elena asked, her voice teasing.
“You don’t need them anymore!” Catarina said, crossing her arms.
Elena smiled and nodded. “You are right. I don’t.” But then she
said, “Although, I will be keeping Concettina.”
“Fine!” Catarina said. “She’s only the best one!”
Elena shuffled the two cards back into the pack. Catarina said,
“Is this how Nana trained you?”
That question caught Elena off guard. Her fingers trembled a
little, holding the cards. “Yes,” she said. “This is how Nana taught
me.”
“Can you teach me?” Catarina asked.
Elena shook her head. “No,” she said. “That duty will fall to
Mother.”
“You are better at it than she is,” Catarina said.
Elena scowled. “Who told you that?”
“Nana did,” Catarina said. “She said you were a very powerful
strega.”
Elena took a breath. “She did?”
“Uh huh,” Catarina said. “She said you were even better than she
was.”
Elena looked at her cards, at her trembling fingers. She set them
down, picking up a handkerchief.
“I’m sorry,” Catarina said. “I did not want to make you sad.”
“You didn’t,” Elena said, wiping her eyes.
“I thought she was scary,” Catarina said, her voice tentative,
almost a whisper.
Elena laughed. “So did I.”
 Daughter of Fate 63

“But she always said nice things about you.”

Elena put her handkerchief away. She said, “Nana always said
nice things about you, too.”
“No she didn’t!” Catarina said, waving her hand at Elena.
“How do you know?” Elena asked.
Catarina raised her arms. “I’m the magician!” she said. “I can tell
when people lie!”
Elena laughed out loud. Both of them did.
Then, Catarina asked again, “Will you teach me?”
Elena nodded. “Until I leave for my wedding.”
Catarina reached across the table and picked up the deck. “Start
now!” she said.
Elena remembered her first day with Nana. How terrified she
was of the old woman. And she looked at Catarina. Almost the same
age she was when she began. How Nana must have seen her. What
she must have thought of her.
“All right,” she said. “Let’s begin.”
PART TWO

Pirate
 Daughter of Fate 67

O ne week before her marriage, Elena spent the day practicing

with the sorte deck. The cards were slick in her hands. Brand
new. Hand painted. She still had the stain on her fingers from finish-
ing the final card the day before. The court cards were easy enough,
but the Arcana proved difficult. Choosing between the many dif-
ferent cards, choosing which twenty would be in her deck. Which
stories her deck could tell. She had seen other women and their
cards and she wanted her deck to be unique. She spent a week ago-
nizing over each one. But she was finished and the sorte deck was
hers. Truly hers. Painted by her, chosen by her.
When she went to bed, her hands were sore from the shuffling.
Her fingers ached, her shoulders ached, too. She was sleepy and had
no trouble fading off. Tomorrow, she would leave for Villanova’s
island and soon be married to his son.
Her eyes flickered. She felt the heavy drop of sleep. And...

...when she opened her eyes, her tongue was thick and her head
sore. She was under a blanket and the whole world was tilting, back
and forth. The world was dark.
She tried to sit up, but bumped her head on something above
her, making the pain in her skull even worse. Her hands reached
for the blanket and discovered it was not a blanket, but something
else. Canvas. She pushed it aside and the sun shone down into her
eyes, blinding her, setting the pain in her head on fire. She covered
her eyes and let the light seep through her eyelids before opening
them again.
She was in a boat. Water all around her. No land. And just
68 John Wick

beyond, a great ship on fire.

The flames roared up into the sky. Black smoke billowing out
from the flames. The ship was tilted up, its front end sinking into
the water.
And the fire burned. Even under the water. The fire burned. Like
a ghostly light, refusing to perish. Elena saw fish under the water
swimming toward the light, then catching on fire, smoldering like
stars under the waves.
Dreaming, she thought. I must be...
She looked back at the small boat. Only room for her and one
other. That was the man on the other side of the boat, bleeding from
his belly. His hand covered the wound, but he looked like the corpse
of her grandmother, lying back in her coffin. His skin was white as
the sheet covering her. His eyes sunken and dark.
“You’re awake,” he said. A sad smile on his lips. “Good. Just in
time.”
Elena had nowhere to run. She did not know how to swim. She
just blinked and tried to swallow.
“I am...” he began, but stopped. Then, he said, “I am dying. And
there are things you should know.”
His words rushed over her. “Take me home,” she said.
He shook his head. “No chance of that. But you should know
why you are here. Let me tell you before...” He winced, clutching
the wound. Then, he refocused on her. “I was told you knew of this...
that I would be coming.” He smiled. “Obviously, that isn’t the case.”
Elena looked out of the boat. She was surrounded by the sea. No
sight of land. “Take me home,” she said again.
He said, “I’m sorry.” With his free hand, he reached under his
heavy coat. Elena looked at it, seeing it seemed to be made entirely
of pockets.
From under the coat, he withdrew a letter. The envelope was
 Daughter of Fate 69

stained with his blood. “This...will explain everything,” he said. “It

is written in code...and I’m afraid I cannot tell you how to break it.”
He held the envelope out to Elena, but she did not take it. “I...
do not read,” she said.
His eyes looked confused. “Sorry?” he asked.
“I do not read,” she said. “I never learned.”
The man nodded again. “No matter. Have someone read it to
you.” His hand remained where it was, trembling.
She reached forward and took the letter. “Why do you not read
it to me?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No time left. I can barely see as it is.” Then,
he said, “I’m sorry for all this. I truly am.”
Elena didn’t know what to say, so she just held the letter and
watched him.
“We’re in a trade route,” he said. “Someone should pick you up.
Before then, stay under the canvas there. And drink only a little
water every day.” He gestured at a leather pouch at his feet. “There’s
no food,” he said. “I’m sorry about that, too.”
“No food?” she asked, feeling the panic starting in her belly.
“What will I eat?”
“You can live without food for seven days,” he said. “But water...
make sure to drink a little of it once a day.” He gestured at the sea
around. “Do not drink the ocean water. It will make you sick.”
“Did anyone else...” she started to ask, but stopped. Then, she
asked, “Where are my parents? Where is my brother? Where is my
sister?”
“My name is Richard,” he said. “Richard Cant.” His eyes were
fading. “If you ever meet Ysault...” His voice was fading, too. Almost
mumbling. His eyes almost closed.
“Tell her...”
Then, his eyes shut.
70 John Wick

His body listed. Then, slumped down. She heard the sound of
his sword on the wood.
And she screamed.

***

She didn’t know how much time passed before she was able to
think, but the sun was low in the sky, turning the horizon crimson
as the blood on his tabard. She had screamed so loudly and for so
long, her throat ached. She looked at the water flask by his feet...
and hesitated.
His body was so still. He was not sleeping. No soft lift of the
chest or sound of breathing. Nothing. No movement at all.
The letter sat between them, untouched since she dropped it.
Elena sat, unmoving. The waves lifting and lowering the boat.
She looked up at the sail above her, half-full of wind, carrying her
to...she didn’t know where.
She realized she had no idea where she was or how she got here.
The last memory she had was leaving home...the small boat...but not
this small boat...and...
Her head hurt. She touched the pain and felt a large knot under
her skin. When she took her hand away, there was blood on her
fingers.
She tried to piece together what happened. Was there a ship? Yes,
there was a ship. And another. It seemed even the act of remember-
ing hurt her head.
Elena remembered…fire. Sailors leaping from ship-to-ship. The
killing. The dying.
And then...waking on this boat...with...
She looked at the flaming wreckage on the horizon. The ship was
so far away, but she could see the masts and the flames.
 Daughter of Fate 71

My family...
She looked at him again. Richard. As if she expected him to move.
And then...she started to cry.
Elena wept until her eyes were sore. By then, the night com-
pletely filled the sky and the moon peered down on her. And her
thirst was greater than her fear.
She stretched across the boat, reaching for the water flask, when
the whole world tilted to the left. She scrambled, panicking and
screaming, realizing what was about to happen, leaning to the
right. The boat righted itself, and she was not thrown into the water.
Neither was Richard. But his body had thrown itself over, his face
now turned away from her.
Elena remained still for a while longer before trying for the water
flask again. She kept her legs close together, her hips firmly set on
the wood, as she slowly reached forward. Her fingers found the flask,
and as delicately as before, she brought her body back to an upright
position.
Almost gasping, she opened the flask and drank, before remem-
bering Richard’s warning. She stopped quickly, nearly spitting some
of the water out. She put the cork back in the flask and set it down.
The bottom of the boat had water. Almost up to her first knuckle.
She shivered, realizing how cold the world had become.
The stars were above her. She looked around, unable to tell where
the sea began and the sky ended. As if she were floating in a literal
sea of stars. And as she looked, she remembered. Remembered
her training.
Her eyes refocused, her mind settling down. Looking beyond
what she could see. Looking for the strands.
Out here, there was only one. A single strand from her chest to
something on the other side of the moon and stars. She reached out
and touched it, feeling its sharp edges, delicately moving her fingers
72 John Wick

around them.
It was faint. Faint and dying. Nearly gone. But it was the only
strand she could find. Barely a whisper.
She took a deep breath...laid her fingers on the strand...the razor
cold edges cutting into her fingers...
...and she pulled.
 Daughter of Fate 73

2
Again, Elena opened her eyes and saw a man leaning over her. His
face was rough and one eye was milky white. His whiskers were
uneven, his head was shaved.
He said something she did not understand at the time, but later,
she would learn he said, “She’s alive!”
Elena startled, trying to push away from him, but there was
no movement in the tiny boat. He stood up, smiling. “It’s all right,
missy,” he said. “I’ve got no plans on harming you.”
She didn’t understand what he was saying, her heart panicking.
She thought of throwing herself off the side of the boat, turned to
do so, and saw the ship.
They had hooked her boat with a crane and lifted it up. She slept
through all of that. She looked at the men and women staring at
her, her mind reeling and confused. So many strangers at once. All
around her. And no familiar faces.
For the first time in her life, she was alone.
She screamed. Fell to her knees. Put her head in her hands
and screamed.
How long she was there, she didn’t know. But eventually, her
voice failed, and her raw throat only pushed air with no sound.
That’s when she heard the voice.
“Mi capisci?” it asked. Do you understand me?
And Elena did.
She looked up. She had to blink, her eyes were so itchy and thick.
There was a woman kneeling next to her. Her hair was black like
Elena’s, her olive skin the same, her eyes blue. She could have been a
cousin. And she was smiling.
74 John Wick

“Do you understand me?” she asked again. Elena nodded.

Her smile grew wide. “Bon,” she said. She took one of Elena’s
hands and put it in hers. “My name is Veronica,” she said. “Veronica
Buonarroti.”
“Elena,” she managed to stumble her own name over her trem-
bling tongue.
Veronica said her name back to her. Somehow, it slowed Elena’s
pounding heart. “Do you know where you are?” Veronica asked.
Elena shook her head.
Veronica squeezed her hand. “It’s all right,” she said. “You’re safe.
No one is going to hurt you on this ship.”
Elena looked around at the others, unable to say anything else.
She saw men and women, all of them different. Like a mismatched
patchwork quilt. Dark hair, light hair, dark skin, light skin. Small
men, large women. All different, but all of them wore a crimson sash,
bound around their waists, tied around their arms, wrapped around
their heads. All of them.
“You must be starved,” Veronica said. “Let’s get you something
to eat and drink.”
Elena nodded, suddenly remembering just how hungry and
thirsty she was.
Veronica lifted Elena to her feet. She almost stumbled and fell,
but Veronica and another man caught her. Elena looked at him. He
was tall and blonde, his skin tanned from the sun. His eyes as blue
as the sea. His beard was trimmed and his hands were strong on her
shoulders. He said something to her, but she didn’t understand it.
She looked over the decks, saw the glow of the burning ship
under the waves. Fire under the waves. In the back of her panicked
mind, Elena thought, How could that be?
She saw the other sailors looking over the rail, whispering to
each other.
 Daughter of Fate 75

“They’re dead,” she said. “All of them.”

“Who?” Veronica asked.
Elena blinked, the sun shining bright over his shoulder. The glow
of the burning ship under the waves and the shining sun were the
last things she saw.

***

When she awoke, she was in a dim room with a single, small
window shining sunlight through. Veronica was there. She was
seated beside her, a book in her hands. Veronica smiled and put the
book down. She took a cup from a nearby table and put it toward
her. “Here,” she said.
Elena took the cup and put it against her lips, drinking deeply.
The water was warm and tasted good. She finished the water and
sighed. “Yes,” she said.
They ate. Fish and wine. Hard bread that Veronica told her
was called “hard tack” and she taught Elena how to dip it into the
wine to soften it. The fish tasted better than anything she had ever
tasted before.
They talked very little. Elena ate quickly. Veronica warned her
not to eat too quickly. She said, “Your stomach might reject it.” Elena
tried eating slower, chewing each bite, relishing the taste while her
hunger demanded speed.
When she finished, Elena sat still for a long moment, waiting in
the silence. Finally, Veronica asked, “Elena, how did you get in that
boat?”
Elena shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“What do you remember?”
Elena’s gaze was set on the empty plate in front of her. Outside
the door, she heard the men working. What surprised her was she
76 John Wick

also heard them singing. She couldn’t understand the words, but the
melody sounded familiar. Something she had heard before, but the
pace was quicker and livelier.
She looked up at Veronica. “I remember…going to bed. Making
ready to leave in the morning.”
“Is that all?” Veronica asked. Her eyes had an honest concern.
Elena nodded. “Yes,” she said.
Veronica’s lips pursed and her brow furrowed. She reached beside
her into a bag and took out the letter Richard gave her. “Do you
know what this is?” she asked.
Elena shook her head. “No. Richard gave that to me when…
he…” She felt tears in her eyes as her throat failed.
Veronica reached forward and took her hand. “It’s all right,” she
said. Then, she said it again. “It’s all right.”
“My family is dead!” Elena shouted. “They were on the ship...”
“We saw,” Veronica said. “The burning ship?”
Elena nodded.
“There were no other survivors,” Veronica said. She touched
Elena’s hand. “I’m very sorry.”
“Ignazio!” she said, her voice breaking. “Mama...and Papa.”
Veronica squeezed her hand. “Do you have any other family?”
she asked. “Back in Vodacce?”
Elena thought of Villanova. Her heart shivered. She shook her
head. “No,” she said. “No.”
“Where were you going?” Veronica asked. “Where was the ship
taking you?”
Elena looked up, her vision blurry from the tears. “My wedding,”
she said.
Veronica took a deep breath.
“Sorte Strega,” Veronica said. Fate witch.
Elena nodded. “Yes. I can see the strands.”
 Daughter of Fate 77

“That makes you very valuable,” Veronica said.

Elena blinked, feeling a tear crawl down her cheek. For the first
time, she looked at Veronica. Her strands. The glow around her.
Her Arcana.
Veronica smiled. “You’re looking at me, aren’t you?”
That caught Elena off guard. She closed her eyes and turned away.
Veronica touched Elena’s shoulder. “It’s all right,” she said, her
voice kind, but amused. “It wasn’t the first time.”
Elena turned back. Veronica’s face was weathered by the sun, but
she was still very beautiful. And her hands were strong. Looking
at Veronica reminded her of looking at the courtesan in Ignazio’s
private chamber. And then…
“You don’t have the gift,” Elena said, almost without realizing she
spoke aloud.
Veronica shook her head. “No,” she said. “A great disappoint-
ment to my parents.”
Elena didn’t understand. How could she not have the gift?
How could…
A bell sounded. Voices shouted. Veronica turned and looked at
the door.
“I have to go,” she said. “Stay here.” She let go of Elena’s hand
and set it gently on the table. “And whatever you do…don’t open
the door.”
She rose. Elena did, too. She wanted to follow. But Veronica
reached the door and opened it, looking back at her.
“Don’t. Open. The door.” Veronica shut it behind her.
Elena heard more shouting and more bells. She sat down and
she waited.
78 John Wick

3
Veronica shut the door behind her, locking it. She looked out at the
deck of the ship.
Officers giving orders. Sailors moving. She saw the blond man
who helped Elena. He stood near the rail, spyglass in hand, looking
to the northeast. She joined him.
“What is it, Griffin?” she asked.
“ATC hunter,” he said. “They’ll be within range any moment.”
He gave the spyglass to Veronica and she peered at the ship.
“What’s the Atabean Trading Company doing out here?” she asked.
“Looking for pirates,” Griffin said, smiling.
She gave him the spyglass. “Looks like they found some. You
recognize the ship?”
He nodded. “Aye,” he said. “Our old friend.”
Veronica asked, “How did she come up behind us?”
“Fog,” Griffin said. “Damn morning fog.”
“You think they’re the ones who took out Elena’s ship?”
He nodded. “Perhaps. If we get a look at their log, we’ll know
for certain.”
“Well,” Veronica said, a smile creeping on her lips. “Let’s give our
old friend a warm welcome.”
He returned her smile. “Tell Deaf Henry to run out the guns,”
Griffin said.
“Aye, Captain.” She turned back to the crew. “Run out the guns!”
she shouted. “Get their sails before they get close!”
The command went across the deck, then down below. And
down below, the call went to a thick, heavy man with a dent in his
head and only one ear. He smiled when he heard it. “Too far for
 Daughter of Fate 79

chain shot!” he shouted. “Grape shot, then! Aim high!”

Working in teams, the gunners packed the cannons with grape
shot. Henry walked by each one, touching the iron. Bouncing Annie.
Jenny’s Angry Kiss. Queen Elaine’s Final Retort. And he whispered to
them as he passed them by.
Up above, Griffin shouted at the sailors.
“You see them, don’t you, me beauties?”
The sailors shouted, “AYE!”
“You know what they want, don’t you?”
“AYE!”
“Say it, me beauties.”
The sailors shouted, “LIBERTY!”
“That’s right!” Griffin shouted, his voice carrying across the deck.
“We have something they don’t have. And it isn’t gold. It isn’t jewelry
or linens. It isn’t even our pretty faces!”
The crew cheered and laughed.
“They want the thing that we have and they don’t! They want our
liberty!”
Veronica watched as fire lit in the sailors’ eyes, ignited by Griffin’s
words. He marched up and down the decks, shouting at the men.
“They’re going to fight like conscripted soldiers. Mercenaries.
Motivated by coins. But we won’t fight like that, will we?”
“NO!” the sailors shouted.
Griffin’s voice raised up. “TELL ME WHAT YOU ARE!”
And the crew shouted, “FREE!”
And Griffin shouted back at them, “THEN FIGHT LIKE IT!
AND LET THE DEVIL JONAH TAKE ANY WHO DON’T!”
The crew moved quicker, more eager. Their faces transformed.
Someone shouted, “THREE CHEERS FOR CAP’N GRIFFIN!” and
the crew did just that.
Veronica stepped up, standing beside him as he watched the
80 John Wick

ATC ship get closer.

“Moments like this, I remember why I love you,” she said.
He looked at her. “Kiss for good luck?”
She winked. “You get the kiss when we win.” Then, she walked
back to the wheel, shouting over her shoulder, “Incentive!”
Glasswall Willy shouted down from the tops, “They’re prepping
cannons, sir!”
Veronica stood by the wheel. It was going to be close, which ship
would fire first. She stood beside the pilot as she managed the wheel.
“Get us behind them, Llywellyn,” Veronica said.
The brown-haired woman clutched the wheel, turning it hard to
starboard. “She’s a fast ship,” Llywellyn said. “Best hope Deaf Henry
can take down some of them sails.”
As if on cue, the cannons fired from below, making the whole
ship shudder. Grape shot hit the sheets of the ATC ship, ripping
the canvas.
Veronica smiled. “Good ol’ Henry,” she said.
Llywellyn whistled through her teeth. “That’s our boy!”
she shouted.
Veronica looked through her spyglass, peering at the other ship.
“Some damage,” she said. “But not enough.”
“Maybe enough to even up the speed,” Llywellyn said.
Just then, smoke from the other ship, followed by a crack.
Griffin turned and shouted at the crew, “Brace!” then fell flat to
the deck.
Veronica and Llywellyn dropped. A moment later, explosions
and splinters as hot iron crashed into the Morning Star. Men and
women screaming. Veronica saw one shot carry a man clear over
the rail.
She stood, smoke all around her. “They’ve got range on us,”
she said. “Must have outfitted her with new guns.” She turned to
 Daughter of Fate 81

Llywellyn. “New strategy.”

Griffin was already shouting. Up above, Long Tall Harry, the
captain of the tops, was ordering men to change the sheets.
Llywellyn was on her feet again, a finger in her ear. “What’s the
order?” she asked.
Veronica grasped the rail, glaring at the enemy ship. “We’re
charging.”
Llywellyn grasped the wheel and spun it, turning the rudder
down below, moving the ship toward the ATC cruiser.

***

Sitting in the small cabin, Elena scanned the chamber. No room

in her father’s house was as small as this. A hammock folded up and
hung on the wall. A miniature desk. A tiny bookshelf. That caught
her eye. She stood and walked over, but as she did, the ship lurched
to the side and she nearly fell over. She stuck her arm out and caught
herself, keeping her footing.
She heard more shouting above her. The bell stopped. Then the
shouting stopped as well. The sudden swell of silence roused her
curiosity. She saw a tiny, circular window and stepped toward it. The
glass was thick and difficult to see through. She lifted the bolt and
opened it.
She saw another ship, nearly out of view. The angle of the window
made it difficult to see. It seemed larger than any ship she had seen
before, but she didn’t know if that was because of how close it was.
Still, the silence.
She saw smoke from the other ship. She wondered if it was on
fire. A moment later, she heard a crack of thunder.
Elena heard a single shout from above her and saw movement.
And then, the whole world exploded.
82 John Wick

She was knocked off her feet as the floor lifted. She heard another
shout, this time below her. And another thunder clap. The sound
was so loud, she clasped her hands over her ears. There was a pain
in her head. And in her ears, a high-pitched wail, like the scream of
a ghost.
Voices again. Some shouting, others screaming. Pain. She’d never
heard anything like it before. Except when Mother gave birth to her
sister. That was the sound of pain. And she heard it all around her,
men and women.
Another crack of thunder. The same shout. Even with her ears
ringing, the second time she heard it, she was able to catch the sound
of the word.
“Brace!”
The ship rocked again and she flew from the floor into the wall,
crashing into the books. The small bookshelf fell off the wall, hitting
her shoulder, and then the desk flipped on top of her, sending
burning pain down along her arm into her fingertips. Her scream
was from both pain and frustration. She had no idea what was hap-
pening to her, where she was or why she was there. She lay under the
books, unsure what to do. She tasted tears and blood in her mouth.
More explosions. More thunder. She smelled smoke and fire.
She thought of home. Fires in the winter. Cooking and kitchens.
She just lay there with her hands over her ears.
Finally, she decided to do something. Anything. She couldn’t lie
there forever. She put her hands under her chest and pushed, lifting
against the weight of the desk. Eventually, she skittered her way out,
tearing her dress as she did, a gash on her leg where it ripped, blood
oozing through the open wound.
Elena looked at her leg for a long moment, just looking at the
blood, her back against the side of the ship. She heard the sounds of
metal on metal. Screams. All those sounds behind that closed door.
 Daughter of Fate 83

She remembered her father screaming at her mother. Behind a

closed door. Feeling that she should do something. Say something.
Beg her father to stop. Flashing back and forth between home and
here. Home and here. The two doors.
This one burst open and a man stood in it. He wore a blue
uniform and held a bloody sword in his hand. On his cheek was a
scar.
He spoke to her. She did not understand the language, but she
understood his intent. She had seen it on Villanova’s face. It was the
intent of violence.
“Go away!” she shouted.
He grinned. “Vodacce, eh?” he said. She understood that. And
somehow, the man became more threatening.
“Smuggling girls out of Vodacce,” he said. “Is there anything
these pirata won’t stoop to?”
Pirata. He called her a pirate. Ignazio’s face rushed up to her. The
emotions pounding in her breast.
The man in the blue uniform rushed forward, reaching down
with his free hand, grabbing her by the hair, lifting Elena to her feet.
The pain forced a scream.
“You’ll bring a reward,” he said to her. “Fleeing your family. I’m
sure your father doesn’t approve.”
She screamed. “My family is dead!”
“They murdered your family as well?” the man in the blue
uniform asked. “Butchers and betrayers, one and all.”
His fingers curled tight around Elena’s hair. “What is your name,
girl?” he asked.
Before she could answer, another voice did.
“Il suo nome é Elena.”
He turned to the doorway. Elena looked as well.
Veronica stood there, a bloody sword in her hand, a rip in her
84 John Wick

chemise and a bloody gash below the tear.

“She’s not going with you,” Veronica said. “She’s staying with us.”
The blue man shoved Elena to the ground. “I believe she’d prefer
to go with me.”
Veronica said, “She doesn’t know what she wants.” Elena saw
Veronica step forward through the doorway, into the cabin. “She
doesn’t know anything.”
Elena looked at the blue man’s back as he stepped forward, his
tall boots clicking on the wood. “The ATC says kidnapping is a
capital crime,” he said. “I’ll add that to your charges. Along with the
murder of the girl’s family.”
Veronica’s pace didn’t slow. She was marching right up to him.
“I’d make a comment about the irony of an officer of the Atabean
Trading Company threatening me with a charge of kidnapping, but
I don’t think you really know what irony is… Do you?”
Elena looked at the sword in his hand and wondered if Veronica
wanted to die. She wanted to shout out, “He has a sword!” but her
throat refused. She was trembling. He was going to kill her. He had
a sword! What could she do?
“Pirate,” he said. “You’re going to learn that a clever wit is no
defense against Castillian steel.”
Elena screamed as he raised his sword and thrust it forward.
But Veronica parried.
Elena blinked. Her mouth wide open.
Veronica parried.
And Elena realized that Veronica had a sword as well. That is, she
saw Veronica had a sword. But she didn’t understand that Veronica
had a sword. And Veronica knew how to use it.
“Castillian steel,” Veronica said, laughing. “The heart of a coward
beats cowardly blood.” Her hand moved and her own blade swung
at his chest. Elena heard the swords clash. “No matter the blade,”
 Daughter of Fate 85

she said, attacking again, so forceful, he had to take a step back. “No
matter the blade…the hand is the real weapon.”
Elena watched Veronica fighting. Fighting him. She was fighting
him.
She was fighting him and winning.
Veronica moved like a dancer, every step an elegant, poetic step.
On the tips of her feet, she moved forward, turned and struck at him
again, this time catching the tip of her sword on his cheek.
The blue man staggered back, catching himself against the wall.
His free hand went to his cheek and touched the wound. When he
saw the blood, his eyes turned nearly as red as the cut.
“Cagna maledetta!” he cursed. Then, he sprung into an assault.
Veronica stepped back, parrying his blade. Elena had watched her
brothers practice with swords, but this was different. He screamed,
spittle spraying from his lips. His strikes were pure rage. Not intent
to hit, but to kill.
Veronica sidestepped him, parrying as he stumbled forward. He
fell to his hands and knees while Veronica stood still, looking down
at him.
“Tsk, tsk,” she teased. “Behavior unbecoming of an officer.”
And then the side of the cabin exploded. Shards of wood and
billows of smoke engulfed Veronica. Dust and wood flew over her.
Elena covered her face, blinded.
After a moment, she opened her eyes. She was coughing out the
dust. She saw only a blur. A large, blue blur. He was standing. She
blinked again and saw clearer.
The blue man stood over Veronica. Her face was toward the floor,
body covered in broken wood and dust. He laughed. Her sword lay
just beyond her fingers. She wasn’t moving.
“The Creator punishes the weak and rewards the just,” he said.
Elena had heard those words so many times. Her father, reading
86 John Wick

from the Book of the Prophets. He kicked Veronica, his foot lodging
into her belly. Elena heard her gasp and moan as her body jolted.
“For those who seek Him shall find Him,” he said, delivering
another kick. “And those who abandon Him shall be abandoned.”
Veronica’s body nearly lifted off the floor from the impact. He
turned from her then, grabbing his own sword from under the
rubble. Then he faced her.
“This is where you die, pirate,” he said. “You’re too much trouble
to bring in alive.”
He raised his blade and readied his thrust--
--and his sword struck the wood, missing her body.
The blue man quickly turned to face Elena. He saw her hands
raised, fingers twisting invisible strands.
“Strega,” he said. “For that, I’ll kill you next.” He tried to pull his
sword from the wood, but then Veronica moved.
Her sword was in her hands. She thrust the blade up and it went
through his belly and his mouth spit up blood. Elena could barely
watch, the view obscured by fingers half-hiding her eyes.
The blue man looked at Veronica, his glare full of hate and
venom. His mouth twisted, forming words through the blood. “I’ll
see you in Hell, pirate.”
Veronica smiled. “Better practice before I get there.” She kicked
his belly and he slid off her blade, out the open hole in the hull and
into the ocean below.
Finally, she fell back down, sitting with the blade across her
knees. She took a deep breath. Then, she looked at Elena.
“You did that?” she asked.
Elena nodded. “Yes.” Her fingers stung, but were uncut. Years
of practice.
Veronica stood, nodded at her. “He’s not the only one,” she said.
“There are more.” She gestured out the door.
 Daughter of Fate 87

“You fought him,” Elena said. “You fought him and won.”
Veronica smiled at her. “Never seen a woman fight a man before,
have you?” she asked.
Elena just shook her head.
“Poke your head out that door,” she said. “You’ll see a lot more.”
She ran out the door, sword in hand, shouting a loud whoop!
Elena watched her leave, her heart beating tight in her chest.
Then, she stood. And from just behind the doorway, she watched.
88 John Wick

4
The deck of the ship was covered in bodies, both sailors with red
sashes and those in blue uniforms. Elena stepped where there were
no bodies, trying to avoid the blood. But that was nearly impossible.
Sailors in red sashes bandaging themselves. Those in blue on their
knees, guards watching over them. Veronica saw Elena watching and
she walked across the deck. “You’re all right?” Veronica asked. “Does
anything hurt?”
Elena shook her head. Veronica touched Elena’s brow, just above
her right eye. It stung. “You have a gash here,” she said. “Probably
from the shot in the cabin. There was a lot of shrapnel.” Then she
noticed Elena’s leg. “We need to look at that, as well.”
Griffin was talking to the sailors in blue. She did not understand
Griffin’s words. She asked Veronica, who translated for her.
“You call us dogs,” he said to the sailors in blue. “Criminals with
no honor. But I say we follow a code that tells me we don’t kill you.
We don’t send you off to the slave farms of the Atabean Sea.” He
paced along the line of them, one hand on his sword and the other
on a pistol tucked into his crimson sash.
“We’re going to do none of those things,” he said. “Even though
you’d do every one of those things to us.”
He stopped by a woman in a beautiful coat. She glared at him
the same way the man had glared at Veronica.
“You’d brand us and send us to prison,” he said, very close to her,
smiling as he did it. “Wouldn’t you, Eileen?”
She nodded. “Aye, I would,” she said.
“And have,” he said.
She smiled. “And have.”
 Daughter of Fate 89

“No, we’re not going to do anything so rude.” He walked along

the line again. “What we are going to do is put you on an island not
far from here. We’ll leave you food and fresh water, enough to last
you until you get picked up.”
He paused, a wide smile on his lips. “But we’re keeping your
ship.”
The crimson sashes all cheered when he said that. Then, in the
midst of their cheers, he shouted, “And we’ll be selling it back to the
ATC when we get to La Bucca!”
The cheers doubled then. He raised his hands and the crimson
sashes calmed down. “And they’ll pay us handsome for our salvage.
After all,” he said, looking everyone over. “We kept it from sinking,
didn’t we?”
They all cheered a mighty, “Aye!” when he said that. Veronica
especially so. She was laughing so hard, her cheeks were red, and
Elena couldn’t help but smile.
Griffin put his hands on his hips. “Set sail for Esa Pequeña Isla!”
The crimson sashes cheered and started moving about the deck of
the ship. Sashes with muskets, spears, and swords moved the blue
suits down below decks.
Elena looked at Veronica. “What’s happening?”
“Just what you heard,” she said, looking down at her. “We’re
going to put them on an island.”
“Will they…?” Elena started, but Veronica shushed her.
“We know the place well,” she said. “We’ve dispatched hundreds
of ATC there.”
“What is ay tee see?” she asked.
Veronica said, “The Atabean Trading Company.” She leaned in
closer, looking above Elena’s brow. “Not nice folks at all.” Her eyes
squinted. “You need stitches,” she said. “We should get you to the
doctor.”
90 John Wick

Elena knew what that meant. Her brothers, practicing sword

fighting, needed stitches on numerous occasions. She even knew
how to perform the task. But hearing that she would need them… It
made her feel as if she had joined her brothers in some way.
Veronica took her below decks. Elena saw the men and women
there, huddled together tightly. Hammocks swinging as they walked
through. The sailors all saluted Veronica as she passed by. “Ma’am,”
they said.
“As you were,” she told them.
They reached the doctor at the end of the ship. He was tall and
slender, his face gaunt, his skin ashen. Hair as white as snow pulled
tight behind his head in a short tail, a sharp widow’s peak. When he
looked at her, his eyes were focused through small glasses tipped on
the edge of a long, thin nose.
His hands were covered in blood. On one table, a young boy
lay still. She looked at him and saw his leg was missing from the
knee down.
“Dio mio!” Elena gasped, hands over her lips.
The doctor looked at her, then at Veronica. He spoke to Veronica
first. It was a guttural, clipped tongue. Then, he looked at Elena.
“Vodacce,” he said, his accent thick. Then, he spoke very slowly.
“Do you understand me?”
Elena could not look away from the boy. She nodded, her voice
almost a mumble. “Sí, signore,” she said.
“Gut,” he said. “My name is Doctor Knochenmus,” he said. Elena
had never heard anyone speak the way he spoke. His Vodacce was
perfect, but the sounds he made…
“Sit here on the table,” he said. “Do not worry about the boy.
He cannot feel anything.” He turned to one of the other men in
the room and spoke. The other man gave him a bowl of steaming
water that smelled odd. Knochenmus washed his hands in the bowl,
 Daughter of Fate 91

cleaning away the blood. As he did, he looked at Elena’s brow.

“Einfach,” he said. Elena looked at him, confused. Knochenmus
spoke in Vodacce. “Easy,” he said. “Give me a moment.”
Elena felt his fingers on her skin, the tips of them as rough as
leather. She had done this many times for her brothers, holding the
needle, piercing the skin. But she had never—
She started to tremble.
Elena felt Veronica’s hands on her arms. “It will be all right,” she
said.
“Ja,” Knochenmus said. “Talk to Veronica. Do not look at me.”
His hands turned Elena’s face toward her. She was smiling.
“Who is the blond man?” Elena asked, and she looked.
“That’s our Captain,” Veronica said. “Taliesin Griffin.”
Elena heard her say his name and she saw a strand from Veronica
glow as she said it. Elena knew what that meant.
Elena felt the tip of the needle on her skin. “Hold,” the doctor
said. She breathed deep and bit her lip, focusing on the strands.
“You have a knot on your head,” Knochenmus said. “A day old,
perhaps. Maybe longer.”
Elena said, “Yes. I don’t, I mean, I don’t know how.”
“Memory loss?” Knochenmus said.
“I don’t remember,” Elena told him.
Knochenmus said, “The swelling will go down in time. But the
lost memories may not return.”
Elena frowned. Veronica put a hand on her shoulder.
“What part of Vodacce are you from?” Veronica asked her.
“S-south,” she said. “The islands.”
“A merchant’s daughter,” Veronica said. That was when the needle
pierced Elena’s skin. She felt the pressure, felt her skin pop.
“Hold!” the doctor said, this time with urgency.
“Sí,” Elena said. “My fath-er is a m-merchant.”
92 John Wick

“Born with the gift?” Veronica asked.

Her breath stopped. She didn’t know how to answer.
“You’re looking at my strands right now, aren’t you?”
Elena panicked. She closed her eyes tight. Then, opened them
again. She didn’t know why she was so afraid. But Veronica’s ques-
tion and her voice. They made her… made her stomach jump.
“I did not have it,” Veronica said. “But my mother did.” Then her
eyes faded. “And my daughter.”
Knochenmus paused. Out of the corner of her eye, Elena saw
him turn to look at Veronica. She scowled at him.
He said, “Es tut mir Leid.” Then he went back to work. Veronica
turned to look at Elena.
“My father thought I would influence her unfairly,” she said.
“And I was not married at the time.” She sighed, smiling. The sigh
was nothing but sadness. “Such a disgrace to his honor.”
“I…” Elena started speaking, but did not know what to say.
Veronica shook her head. “It’s been many years. She’d be about
half your age.” She held Elena’s hand tight. “I would like to see her.
But it will never happen.”
“Fertig,” Knochenmus said, leaning away.
Veronica smiled. “He said he’s finished,” she said. She looked at
Elena closely. “It will be a small scar. Just above your eyebrow.”
Elena took a deep breath. “Thank you,” she told her. She looked
at the doctor. “Thank you,” she said.
“Danke,” he said. Then, in Vodacce, “It means ‘Thank you.’ Say it.”
Elena paused, her lips trembling.“Dunke,” she said.
“Close enough,” Knochenmus said. His grin made his face
look like a skull. A happy skull. Elena smiled. Knochenmus began
washing his hands. “You’ve learned your first Eisen word,” he said.
Elena asked, “Who is Eisen?”
Knochenmus laughed. He looked at Elena’s leg. “That needs
 Daughter of Fate 93

cleaning and a bandage,” he said, pointing at the gash on her leg.

“But nothing else.” Then, he turned away.
“I can do that,” Veronica said to him. She turned to Elena. “Come
along,” she said. “Let’s get you a change of clothes.”

***

Veronica handed Elena a set of folded clothes. Elena looked

at them.
“Pantaloni?” she asked, holding up the canvas trousers.
Veronica nodded. “Go ahead,” she said. Let me back in when
you’re done.” She left the room and closed the door behind her.
Elena looked at the clothes, a little confused. After a moment,
she figured out the trousers and the smock. She undressed, carefully
folding the dress she wore. When she was done, she called Veronica
back into the room.
Elena looked down her torso and legs, covered in thick canvas
sailor’s slops. A rope belt around her waist, canvas shoes on her feet.
“Pantaloni,” she said, tugging at the wide leggings. She looked up
at Veronica. “I’ve never worn pantaloni before.”
Veronica smiled. “Much easier to move around than in a dress,
don’t you think?”
Elena noticed Veronica was also wearing them. For the first time,
Veronica wasn’t in skirts. She was wearing what all the men were
wearing. A simple camica, cut short trousers.
“Oh,” Veronica said. “One last thing.” She walked to the other
side of the small cabin and fetched a woven hat. She put it on Elena’s
head, squeezing it down. “You’ll need it. Lots of sun out there.”
Elena blushed, looking at herself again. “It isn’t very modest,”
she said.
“No time for modesty on board,” Veronica said.
94 John Wick

Elena looked in the small mirror on the wall. With her hair tied
up under the hat, she looked like a boy. She looked like a younger
version of Ignazio.
Ignazio...
She turned to Veronica. “Are you certain?” she asked.
Veronica nodded. “There’s no way anyone survived that.”
“I did,” Elena said. “And so did--” She stopped, looked down.
Veronica said, “How you survived...I don’t know. But we
searched and we didn’t find any more dinghies.”
Elena said, “My family is dead.” Then, she covered her mouth,
her eyes filling with tears. As if saying it out loud made it true for the
first time. She felt Veronica’s presence in the room, but everything
else felt unreal. As if made of clouds. Then, Veronica’s hands on
her shoulders.
“The sea is a dangerous thing,” she said. “You are lucky you’re
alive.”
“My father made that journey many times,” Elena said, her body
shaking. “Why now? Why when his family was on board?”
And as soon as she said it, Elena knew why. Said it out loud.
“Villanova.”
Elena felt Veronica’s hands on her shoulders tremble. “What do
you mean?” she asked.
“Villanova,” Elena said again. “He wanted my family’s land.
Wanted my father’s crops and trade agreements.” She paused, turned
to look at Veronica. “And he wanted me.”
“I don’t understand,” Veronica said. “He wanted you?”
Elena nodded. “He arranged for me to marry his son,” she said.
“But this is easier. The whole family killed means he can move in and
take everything.” Elena’s trembling lip turned into a scowl. “Put us
all on the same ship. Burn us all in the same fire.” She thought of
Catarina, frightened and not knowing what was happening.
 Daughter of Fate 95

“That sounds like Villanova,” Veronica said.

Elena turned, looking at Veronica. “You know him?”
Veronica nodded, smiling. “Everyone in Vodacce knows who
Giovanni Villanova is.” She walked to her small desk. “He’s the most
powerful man in Vodacce. Of course I know who she is.”
Elena wondered at Veronica saying “she” while talking about Vil-
lanova, but she didn’t say anything.
Veronica paused, then said, “Elena. What happened to your
family... It’s awful. Do you want to go back?”
Elena shook her head. “No,” she said. “There’s nothing for me
there.” She remembered Ignazio teasing her. Elena the Pirate. Now,
the only place she had to go...
Veronica nodded. “Come on. You should meet the crew.”

***

They stepped out of the small room onto the deck. The sun was
high and the crew was working. Sailors in the rigging, sailors on
deck. Some tying ropes, others with buckets, swabbing the deck.
When Veronica whistled, they all stopped to look.
“This is Elena!” she shouted out. She spoke in Numanari, a lan-
guage most sailors understood. “Our new crew member.”
The crew roared a welcome and Elena felt her cheeks blushing.
Then they went back to work.
Veronica smiled and patted Elena on the shoulder. “Welcome
aboard.”
Elena shook her head. “What do I do?”
“Glad you asked.” Veronica called, “Stoffer!”
One of the sailors swabbing the deck stopped, got to his feet, and
rushed over, touching the hat on his head. “Ma’am?” he asked.
Veronica said, “Elena’s starting at the bottom. Show her what to
 96 John Wick

do and teach her how to do it.”

“Right,” Stoffer said.
Veronica stepped away and Stoffer stepped up. He was a young
man, a little older than her, his skin dark. Elena knew that meant he
came from somewhere over the water, but nothing else. He wore his
sash over his head and Elena saw no hair poking out. His eyes were
as dark as his skin. When he spoke, his voice was deep, almost deep
enough to swallow his words.
“Tu loqueris Numanari?” he asked.
Elena blinked, embarrassment blushing on her face. “I…I don’t
understand.”
“Si parla Vodacce?”
She smiled and nodded, feeling the heat on her face dissipate.
“Sí, signore.”
He nodded. “Very good. Let me tell you why we swab the deck.”
 Daughter of Fate 97

5
Veronica sat at the desk in her cabin, the light of the morning sun
shining through. Elena was looking at the bookshelf. It was a tiny
thing, only seven books. Elena reached out to touch one of them
with the caution you’d use to touch fire.
“Go on,” Veronica said. “They won’t hurt you.”
Elena touched one. Then breathed out loud.
She took the book from the shelf. Opened it. Looked at the
words inside.
“You can’t read,” Veronica said.
With her back to Veronica, Elena nodded, her eyes on the book.
“Yes.”
Veronica said, “Put that one back. Bring me the one on the left.”
Elena did as she was told. She stepped over to the table and put
Veronica’s book there.
Veronica picked it up. “This is Ends and Means. It is a book the
men of Vodacce read.” She opened it. “All of them.”
Elena didn’t know what to do, so she stood still. Waiting.
Veronica looked up from the book. “Do you want to learn?”
Elena nodded. “I do.”
Veronica pointed at the chair. “Then sit, and I’ll teach you.”
Elena sat at the table. Her hands fidgeted.
“You can read the strands of fate,” Veronica said. “Words should
be easy.”
That made Elena smile.
Veronica said, “This book was written in the language of Vodacce.”
She pointed at the letters. “I will teach you this first. But then, you’ll
learn Numanari.”
98 John Wick

“What is that?” Elena asked.

“It’s another language. Very similar to ours. The sailors all speak it.
It’s the language the Church teaches, so all Théah can speak.”
Elena nodded. “It is good all Théah can speak.”
Veronica smiled. “Yes, it is.”
She showed Elena the letter “t.”

***

Her hands were soft and unused to salt water and ropes. Her soft
hands gained blisters that popped and oozed. Her blisters turned
into callouses. She was doing the work of a servant, spending her
days swabbing the deck. She worked four hours straight, then went
below to rest. When she lay back in her hammock, every inch of her
body ached. Four hours rest, the the bell rang and it was back on
the deck.
Her first day in the rigging, she met Long Tall Harry Stavrosson,
the captain of the tops. Harry’s father was Vesten, his mother from
Avalon, and he was taller and thinner than any person Elena had ever
met. When she watched him move, he seemed to dislocate each joint
in his body, then put it back in place without pain or argument. And
when he climbed the rigging, he moved like a spider crawling across
a web, with an inhuman grace that invited awe.
Harry spoke only a little Vodacce, but it was enough to begin
teaching Elena how to speak Numanari. The similarities in the two
languages helped. After a week, the two of them had a kind of pidgin
speak they shared. Many of the knots the sailors used were similar to
knots she already knew from needlework and she picked up rigging
quickly.
When it came time to go up into the rigging, Harry said, “One
hand for you and one hand for the ship.” His long blonde hair was
 Daughter of Fate 99

tied into a knot behind his head. When he smiled, his thin beard
stretched across his face. “That’s the most important rule. Never
forget it.” He tied a knot around her belt with a length of rope then
tied the other end around his own belt. He winked at her. “If you go,
I go. So make sure you don’t fall.”
Elena asked, “Shouldn’t I start...um...slower?”
Harry shook his head. “Nah. Best to get right up there and feel
the wind.”
He taught her how to climb the mast, how to maintain her grip,
how to hook her feet in the ropes. And as she went higher, she felt
the mast swaying. The further she went up, the more certain she
felt the mast would snap at any moment. And when she was sure
they were near the top, she looked up...and saw they were only half
way there.
“Test time,” Harry said to her. “Look down.”
Elena turned her head toward the deck...and she gasped.
The sailors below looked like dolls. The ship looked like a toy. A
toy she could reach out and grab. She felt herself smile and Harry
said, “Good.”
She looked up at him, climbing on the other side of the mast.
“Good?” she asked.
“If you had panicked, we would have had a problem.” Then, he
winked and said, “Wait ‘till we get to the top.”
When they reached the top crossbeam, Elena knew the mast
would crack at any moment. She heard the wood creaking and felt
her body almost swinging from side to side. Her knuckles were
white as she hung on.
“Tie yourself in,” Harry said. Before they started climbing, he
show her how to lash herself to the yard arm. Running along the
underside of the beam was a single rope: the place to put her feet.
“Now,” Harry said. “We’re going out there to bring up the sails.”
100 John Wick

Elena nodded. “All right,” she said.

“One hand for you and--,” he said.
Elena finished it. “One hand for the ship.”
“Ready?” he asked.
Elena shut her eyes. Took a deep breath. She thought back to the
grass, play fighting with her brother. His smile, his voice.
“I’m Elena the Pirate, Ignazio,” she whispered. Then, she opened
her eyes and gave Harry a nod.
And together, they moved out onto the yard arm, high above the
deck and the waves, held up by nothing but two lengths of rope, the
wind tugging at each of them, trying to pull them into the sea.

***

Her hair was five months longer, the callouses on her hands five
months older. She was in the tops, teaching Higgins—a boy as green
as grass—how to tie a carrick bend knot, when she heard her name
called. “Be right back,” she said in Numanari. She grabbed a tow
line and swung down to the deck, hitting the wood with bent knees.
Veronica was there, wearing the hat she bought when they were
in San Sorcier. Elena rushed up, touching the woven hat Veronica
had given her so many months ago. “Ma’am,” she said.
Veronica smiled. “Very good, Ms. Mondavi,” she said. “You’ve
taken well to the tops.”
She was using Numanari and Elena responded in kind. “Thank
you, ma’am. As you say.”
Veronica whistled and the large man from Ifri Elena knew as
“St. George” brought two cutlasses forward. He was the ship’s sword
master and the master of the marines. He moved with a dangerous
precision, his black skin covered with scarred patterns Elena did not
 Daughter of Fate 101

recognize but had heard were words.

“Thank you, St. George,” Veronica said. She told Elena, “Take
one.”
Elena saluted again and took one of the blades. She tested the
weight of the weapon, swinging it with her wrist. But Veronica did
not take the other. Instead, she stepped back.
“St. George,” she said.
St. George took the other cutlass in his right hand and stepped
forward. “Aye, ma’am.”
Elena felt her stomach tremble. But she lifted her chin and fur-
rowed her brow, focusing on the man in front of her.
St. George wasn’t a tall man, but he was strong. His arms were
thick and long, giving him reach. And he was the best swordsman
on the ship. The rest of the crew spoke of him with a reverence she
had only ever heard used for the Prophets.
His grey eyes ran straight through her with an iron gaze. When
he said, “Ready,” she replied in turn.
Then he attacked.
A quick cut, aimed high. She parried, anticipating a follow
up down low. She was right and parried that as well. He stepped
forward. She stepped back, just as she was taught, shuffling her feet,
keeping on her toes.
St. George swung low and she parried again. His blade bounced
off hers, moving with speed she had seen him use but never had to
counter herself. She barely parried his slice at her breast.
“What is the Code?” he asked, pointing the cutlass at her throat,
stepping forward.
Elena knocked the blade away, trying for a thrust. “In the
moment of truth, fly your true colors.” St. George parried her thrust
and gave her a riposte. She sidestepped, letting the blade go by.
She thrust again, this time at his side. “If asked,” she said, “admit
102 John Wick

you’re a pirate, for if you deny the Code, the Code will deny you.” St.
George spun and parried the thrust, a small smile on his lips.
“Don’t be using your curses on me, girl,” he said. “This is a test of
yer blade…not yer Vodacce witch powers.”
Elena nodded, grateful for the moment of rest. “Aye, sir,” she said.
“Next!” he said, thrusting toward her leg.
Elena parried, but had to step out of the way of the blade as well,
his long reach taking her off guard. “Never refuse a request of parley,”
she said, “we be brothers and sisters of the sea.”
His cutlass swung high. “Next!” he shouted.
Elena ducked, swinging her blade low. “Don’t sail when the sun
is red,” she said, his blade clashing with hers, parrying her blow. St.
George tried stomping on her cutlass but she pulled it away in the
nick of time.
“Next!” he shouted. Elena noticed other sailors watching. But she
refocused, keeping her eyes on St. George.
“Don’t anger the denizens of the sea,” she said, taking a step out of
his reach. “The sea is their home and you are a visitor.”
He charged forward, swinging the sword down toward her head.
She raised her blade, putting her left hand behind it to counter his
strength. The swords clashed and he leaned down, bending her back.
Elena put a foot behind her. He was so strong. His face next to hers.
“Next!” he shouted again, pushing down.
“Give…” she said, feeling her body bending under his strength.
“Give the first take…to Mother Ocean…the source of all…bounty.”
He twisted the blade and kicked his knee into her side. Elena fell
back, feeling her blade break free of her grasp. It spun away, scatter-
ing across the deck.
St. George stared at her, his cutlass at her throat. “Next,” he said.
Not shouting this time, his voice as cold as the deep water.
Elena blinked, taking a step back. He followed, pressing the edge
 Daughter of Fate 103

of the blade against her skin.

“Next!” he said.
She looked at Veronica. St. George shouted, “Don’t look at her!
Look at me!”
Elena turned back to face him, stepping back again.
“If…” she started, then stopped. Fear racing through her heart.
“If…”
“Tell me the Code!” he said, his pace quickening. “Tell me or I’ll
take that pretty head off your neck!”
Elena took one more step and felt her back hit the rail of the ship.
“Tell me!” St. George shouted.
“If a man fall over,” she said, her voice almost an echo, “you must
pay to the sea to take him back.”
His blade was on her throat. His grey eyes burning into her.
“Next,” he said, fingers clenching the pommel.
“Never save a sailor what’s been marooned,” she said, “lest you
bring his bad luck on board.”
“And what’s the final law of the Code?” he asked.
Elena started speaking, but her voice failed. Her lips and throat
were dry. When she spoke, it began as a squeak, but then her
voice recovered.
“We all get a say,” she said. “And we all get a share.”
“Why’s that?” he asked.
Elena’s lips trembled as she said, “Because we’re brothers and
sisters.”
St. George’s cruel lips widened into a smile. He took the blade
away from her throat. “That we are, Ms. Mondavi.”
The crew cheered. As he removed his blade from her throat, she
realized she’d been holding her breath. She inhaled deeply, her knees
barely holding her body up.
Veronica stepped forward. “Well done.”
104 John Wick

St. George said, “She’s still too slow. Should be faster for such a
wee girl.” He tapped a finger on her forehead. “Too far in your own
head,” he said. “Stop thinking and let yer body tell you what to do.
Trust your body, not your mind.”
Elena nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“You shouldn’t be thinking of yer next move, you should be
making it.”
She nodded again. “Yes, sir.”
Veronica shouted at the crew. “Back to work, you all! We’re still
ten days from San Cristobal and I want to make sure we get there in
time for Carnivale!”
The crew cheered and went back to their duties. Elena picked her
sword up from the deck and gave it back to Veronica.
“A test,” Elena said.
“Aye,” Veronica said. “A test. We do that on this ship. Test the
crew. Keep them on their toes.”
“Would you have let him kill me?” Elena asked.
Veronica shook her head. “No. But I would have let him give you
a scar.” She rolled up her sleeve and held out her arm. “Like this one.”
Elena saw a long white gash down the front of her arm. Elena
asked, “St. George gave that to you?”
Veronica nodded. “First year I was on board. Before I even made
bosun.”
“Why?”
Veronica smiled. “I’ll tell you that story another time.” She rolled
her sleeve back down. “Get back to work,” she said. “Your watch is
still up in the tops.”
Elena touched the brim of her hat. “Aye, ma’am.” She ran to
the mast.
Veronica shouted after her, “When we’re in San Cristobal, you
should get a new hat!”
 Daughter of Fate 105

Elena grabbed a line and turned. “It’s my lucky hat!” she said.
“Besides, I keep it to remind me of the woman who gave it to me.”
Veronica watched Elena climb the rigging, a slow, proud grin on
her lips.

***

The tip of the sword slashed so close to her face, she could feel
the edge nearly cut her skin. Elena took a step back, her hand reach-
ing up to see if she had been cut. That’s when the sword pommel
struck her chin and sent her down to the deck in a rumpled heap.
The sword spilled from her hand, clattering along the deck. She
looked up, sunlight peeking around the man’s shoulders. His skin
was black as midnight, his head shaved, tattoos around his eyes. He
reached down, offering her a hand.
She glared up at him. “Was that necessary, St. George?” she asked.
His face shadowed by the sun behind him, he nodded. “Aye, it
was.”
Elena got back to her feet, touching her chin. Her jaw ached and
she thought she may have landed on her ankle wrong. She remem-
bered what St. George told her before he began training her: “Pain
is part of the lesson.”
She shook her head. “This is why my brothers practiced every
day.”
St. George nodded. “But you are good with the pistol and
musket. One of the best on the ship.”
Elena nodded and smiled. “So you say.”
“I only say the truth,” St. George said. Elena thought about that,
about the world she left behind. Her father’s world. Villanova’s world.
And what kind of fate a man who only told the truth might find.
“Why do they call you St. George?” Elena asked.
106 John Wick

“We found him on St. George’s Island,” Veronica said, stepping

up from the gun deck. “And he wouldn’t tell us his name.”
“Names are magic,” St. George said. “Why would I give such a
thing away to strangers?” Then, he raised his blade. “Again.”
Elena raised her own blade, readying for the fight, but then a
voice shouted out from above. “Sail!”
All three of them looked up. It was Harry calling down. He
pointed across the waves. Veronica took her spyglass from her pocket
and peered over the rail. She shook her head. “It’s a red flag,” she
said, frowning.
“Red flag?” Elena asked.
St. George said, “Crimson Raiders.”
Veronica said, “One of Reis’s ships.” She tucked the spyglass
away. “If not the devil herself.”
“Who is Reis?” Elena asked. Both Veronica and St. George gave
her a look that made her shudder.
Veronica called out, “General quarters!” and the crew started
moving. She looked at St. George. “Get Griffin,” she said. “Tell him.”
St. George nodded and ran across the deck toward the Captain’s
quarters. The door was already open, Griffin throwing his jacket over
his shoulders by the time St. George was there.
Elena looked at Veronica. “They’re pirates like us?” she asked.
Veronica shook her head, her gaze stuck on the ship on the
horizon. “They’re pirates,” she said. “But they are not like us.” She
looked up at the sails. “Harry! Get us out of here! Now!”
Harry shouted down, “Aye, ma’am!”
Veronica walked across the deck, Elena following. Elena asked,
“We’re running?”
Veronica nodded. “Aye, we’re running.”
Elena didn’t understand. “But...”
Veronica stopped quickly, Elena bumping into her. Veronica
 Daughter of Fate 107

turned, her eyes an equal measure of panic, fear, and anger. “We’re
running,” she said. “Get aloft and help Harry make sure they do not
get within cannon range.”
“Aye,” Elena said. She sheathed her sword and ran to the lines,
climbing up to the tops. Since she became a rigger, her hands were
stronger, her feet more sure. Her fingers had fresh callouses. And
as she climbed, she saw the ship with the red flag on the horizon,
looming like a vulture.
She met Harry in the tops and he was calling out to “Let go the
lines!” She grabbed hold of a knot and hooked her arm around the
beam to make sure she wouldn’t fall. Then, she stuck her belaying
pin into the knot and worked it loose, letting the line and sail fly.
Elena looked at Harry. “Who is Reis?” she asked.
Harry frowned. “Sheet home!” he shouted. He looked at Elena.
“She’s a woman who made a deal with the Devil,” he said, “and the
Devil regretted it.”
Elena worked another line, watching the ship gaining on the
Morning Star. She climbed across the rigging, both hands holding
on tight. Then, she heard a pop. She looked up and saw smoke from
the Crimson Raider ship.
“That is Reis’s ship?” she asked.
Harry shook his head. “No,” he said. “But it is a ship from her
fleet. Armed with one of them damned cannons, I’d wager.”
They can’t hit us from there, Elena thought. It’s too far. But then,
she heard, “Hold fast!” from below. Elena looked up and saw a star
soaring across the water like a seagull on fire. And the cannonball
landed just short, splashing water up onto the deck and against the
side of the ship. Elena heard and saw steam rise up from the waters,
a brief flash of heat on her cheeks.
“Damn Reis’s guns!” Harry shouted.
Elena stuttered. “H-how...?”
108 John Wick

“Them guns ain’t made of iron, Miss Mondavi,” Harry said.

“That’s how.” He grabbed a line and swung over to her side. “He
was just testing the range with that shot. We’ve got to change our
position.”
Elena clutched the lines... and looked.
She saw the ship out on the horizon and saw it had an Arcana.
Elena blinked. “Th-that’s not possible,” she said.
“What’s not possible?” Harry asked. “That the cannon ain’t made
of iron?” He untied another knot, letting the sail fall down. “I assure
you it is possible. And they don’t throw cannonballs. They throw
fire.”
“Fire?” Elena asked, her eyes growing wide.
“Aye,” Harry said. “Fire. I’ve seen...” He stopped. Elena was
staring at him. “Oh, Miss Mondavi,” he said. “I...”
Elena turned from him and looked at the ship again. She saw a
slight thread from the ship to her chest.
She looked back at Harry. “A fire so hot, it melted the cannons,”
she said.
Harry nodded. “Aye,” he said.
“A devilish fire that burns even under the water,” she said.
Harry nodded again. “Aye.”
Elena looked back at the Crimson Raider. She heard her lips
whisper, “They killed my family.”
Harry shook his head. “No, Miss Mondavi,” he said. “We can’t...”
She glared back at the ship, saw an explosion of smoke and fire,
and a moment later, heard the cannon roar.
“Down!” Griffin shouted below them. Elena gripped the rigging,
watching the ball of fire hurtle through the air toward the Morning
Star. It slammed into the side of the ship, rocking it sideways. Elena’s
feet flew free of the rigging, her arms holding her in place. She heard
the creaking of wood and smelled it burning. Down below, sailors
 Daughter of Fate 109

screamed. She looked down.

A hole in the railing. Men and women burning. Others throwing
water over them, but the fire would not die.
A fire that does not die.
One sailor leapt into the water, his body ablaze. She watched
him, sinking in the depths, the glow from the fire slowly fading, his
body twisting underwater.
“Stregonera,” Elena whispered.
“What is that?” Harry asked.
She turned to him, using Numanari. “Sorcery,” she said. “They’re
using sorcery.”
He nodded. “Something Reis dug up from the Syrneth.”
Elena did not know that word. Syrneth. She assumed it was an
Avalon word. “What can we do?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Nothing. Just hope we can outrun them.”
Elena looked at the Crimson Raider. It was gaining.
“That isn’t working!” she shouted.
Harry nodded and took out his spyglass. He peered ahead and
behind. Then, he paused. He shouted.
“Captain! Islands!”
Elena heard another cannon shot. This time, it went over the
bow, hitting the water on the other side of the ship.
Griffin shouted back up. “Where?”
Harry raised his hand. “Twenty degrees North!” he shouted.
Griffin shouted at the helm. “Twenty degrees North!”
Elena asked, “We’re going to hide behind them?”
Harry shook his head. “No. But I bet a ship like that is too heavy
to sail between them. Their draft won’t let them get too close.” He
smiled. “We, on the other hand, will fit in just fine.”
Elena felt the ship turning under her. She looked behind and saw
another cannon shot, this time landing to the ship’s aft. The turn
110 John Wick

threw off their aim.

“Why don’t we turn and fight?” Elena asked.
Harry said, “Because Crimson Raiders don’t take prisoners.”
Then, he said, “How you escaped…I don’t know.”
The Morning Star caught the crosswind and Elena felt its speed
increase. They moved closer to the islands.
“If we’re lucky,” Harry said, “their keel is too low and they’ll catch
on the sand barges.” He noticed a free line and tied it off. “That will
let us slip away just fine.”
“If they get caught on the sand,” Elena said, “we can attack them.”
Harry’s brow furrowed, his lips frowning. “No, Miss Mondavi,”
he said. “We won’t.”
“He killed my family, Harry!” she shouted, feeling tears in her eyes.
“And he will kill every sailor on this ship,” Harry said. “Cut their
throats and skin them, using their hides for sails. Brewing their
bones for stew.” Harry shook his head. “No, Miss Mondavi. When
you see a Crimson Raider, you run. And you pray.”
Elena turned back, looking at the ship following them toward
the islands. Then, she looked.
And she saw a black strand twisting between her and the ship.
Elena gritted her teeth, her stomach knotting up. Then, she
swung herself around so she was facing the Crimson Raider.
And with her eyes full of anger and fear, she laughed.

***

The sun had almost set, making the sea look like wine. The sky
was deep purple and the crew was silent. Tucked into a small bay, the
Morning Star waited.
Elena was on the deck, standing beside Griffin. He whispered,
“Where are they now?”
 Daughter of Fate 111

Elena looked and saw the black strand. She pointed. “On the
other side of the island, sir. They still haven’t moved.”
She saw St. George and his marines standing ready with muskets
and grappling hooks. Up above, the riggers waited for a command.
Down below, Deaf Henry chewed on that awful tobacco. Elena
heard him spit out a cannon window and into the sea.
“They know we’re here,” Griffin said. “They’re just waiting for us
to show our move.”
St. George said, “If you are chased by the panther, snare its feet.”
Griffin looked at him. “Come again?”
St. George stepped up. “They expect us to run. We should fight.”
He pointed at the island. Elena saw tall trees and thick bushes.
“Jungle here,” St. George said. “Trees and overgrowth. A few men
with muskets could do a great deal of harm. Fire, then move quickly.
Fire again.”
Griffin shook his head. “The cannons,” he said.
St. George said, “Cannons can harm a ship because it is slow.
Men are fast. And if you cannot see them, you cannot aim.” He
moved his hand horizontally. “Cut down the crew. Maybe hit some
officers. Then, when they are confused, run.”
Veronica nodded. “It’s a good plan,” she said. “Once they give us
a signal, we can weigh anchor and meet them on the north side of
the island. Pick them up there.”
Griffin put his hand on his chin, thinking. Then, he nodded.
“When you are chased by the panther, snare its feet,” he said to St.
George. “All right,” he said. “Pick your crew.”
“I already have,” he said, pointing at the marines.
Elena said, “Take me.”
All three of them looked at her. Griffin asked, “What did you
say?”
She kept her gaze on St. George. “Take me,” she said again. “You
112 John Wick

told me I’m one of the best shots on the ship.”

St. George nodded. “She’s right.”
Veronica shook her head. “I don’t…”
“Go,” Griffin said. “And stay close to St. George.”
Elena smiled. “I promise,” she said.
Veronica glared at Griffin. St. George said, “Get a musket.”
Elena said, “Aye, sir.” She ran down to the armory.
When she came back, she had a musket and a bandolier of shot.
Veronica met her halfway across the deck. “What are you doing?”
she asked.
“I’m part of the crew,” Elena said. “I have to do my part.”
Veronica pointed up at the sails. “You can do your part up there
with Harry.”
Elena shook her head. “I want to do this. I want to help. And
this is a way I can help.”
“It isn’t the only way,” Veronica said.
“But it’s the best way.”
Veronica frowned, slowly shaking her head. “I don’t like this.”
“I know,” Elena said. “But it’s the right thing to do.”
Veronica put both hands on Elena’s cheeks and kissed her fore-
head. She looked into Elena’s eyes and said, “Come back safe.”
“All of us,” Elena said.
“All of you.”

***

They moved through the jungle slowly, St. George warning her
to “Watch every step.” Elena kept her wits about her. The marines
moved low, ducked over. Her back and legs ached and she wanted to
ask St. George if they could stop, but she said nothing. The marines
moved like a single animal, each of them a deadly limb. And as they
 Daughter of Fate 113

moved through the jungle, she began to understand that she was
part of the animal. She was one of the deadly limbs.
St. George raised his hand and the marines stopped. Elena
stopped with them. She looked up. There, just a few more steps
away, was the edge of the jungle. She saw the stars, the moon, and
the water. And she saw the ship. It dropped anchor further from the
shore than the Morning Star, its red flag soaring in the wind.
On the beach was a camp of sailors. Tents and fires. They were
cooking a large pig, turning it on a spit. One of them dipped a brush
into a pot and coated the pig with the liquid.
St. George raised two fingers, then pointed to his left and his
right. Half the marines went one direction, the other half went the
opposite direction. Elena hesitated, not knowing what to do. St.
George turned and looked at her. He pointed at her, then pointed at
himself. Elena immediately understood.
Stay with me.
She nodded, saying nothing, but pointing at herself, then at St.
George. He nodded and began loading his musket. Elena followed
his action.
Her hands were shaking. Heart pounding. She took a deep
breath and remembered St. George’s lessons.
Breathe deep. Let the fear out of your body with every breath. Under-
stand what you are doing.
Elena had shot melons. Then birds. She looked out at the sailors
on the beach, many of them asleep on the sand. She had never shot
a man before. In her heart, a venom brewed and whispered to her,
Kill them all.
When she heard St. George’s voice, she almost jumped, losing
grip of the musket.
“Fire on the man by the fire,” he said. “Then follow me.”
Elena nodded, her lips trembling.
114 John Wick

St. George said, “These beasts would eat you if they caught you.”
Elena nodded again.
St. George said, “They would murder Veronica in her sleep and
eat her heart.” He put his hand on her breast. She felt his thick palm
through the canvas of her smock. Felt her heart beating against his
hand. “You are protecting the crew,” he said. “You are defending
them from a fate worse than death.”
Elena felt her heart calm as his words fell on her.
“You are Veronica’s protector,” he said. “Do not fail her.”
Elena’s breath eased. St. George took his hand away and turned
back to the beach. He leveled his musket, finger on the trigger.
Elena mimicked his pose, aiming at the man by the fire.
“Fire when I do,” St. George said.
“Aye.”
She leveled the musket’s muzzle, aiming it at the man’s chest. Her
hands shook. She breathed in, then breathed out. Her hands stead-
ied. She put her finger on the trigger and waited for St. George’s shot.
When his musket fired, she felt her body jolt. Her instincts told
her to pull the trigger, but she waited. Waited for her body to settle.
Waited to catch her breath.
One sailor fell: a woman on the far side of the camp. She clutched
her shoulder as her body flew, smashing into the sand. Then, more
shots and more sailors falling. The man she was supposed to target
looked around in panic.
Elena leveled the musket, aiming at the man’s chest.
Saw his eyes darting back and forth, full of fear…
…Elena changed her aim, squeezed the trigger…
…and the explosion from the barrel propelled the musket
upwards in her grip. She had anticipated that, having fired before,
and she kept the muzzle down. She watched the man clutch at his
knee and collapse.
 Daughter of Fate 115

She looked to St. George, but he was gone. Already on the move.
He was twenty paces away, running low. Elena ducked down and
moved as the sailors on the beach pointed at the spot she ran from.
When she caught up with St. George, he had his musket reloaded.
He pointed at her musket and she began to do the same. Both of
them on their knees, the thick jungle floor wet. Elena’s hands moved
quickly, reloading the musket. She made no mistakes, timing the
movements with the rhythm of her heart. When the shot was ready,
she put the musket to her shoulder. St. George was already there.
“The red head,” St. George said.
Elena scanned the beach and found the target. A woman in
green with long, red curls. She had an axe in both hands, charging
through the jungle near where they made the first shot.
Elena leveled the musket…took aim…breathed deep…
…and squeezed the trigger.
The woman flew from her feet, both axes spinning from her
hands.
Elena turned to look at St. George, but he was on the move
again. She got up from one knee and ran, keeping her head down.
All around her, she heard shots firing, men and women scream-
ing. Elena watched St. George move, like a quicksilver shadow,
dodging between the overgrowth. His black skin making him vanish
in the moonlight. She stopped where he stopped and started reload-
ing her musket. But St. George whispered, “There!”
Elena looked up. Five large men with swords had spotted them.
Charging across the beach, their heads shaved and their faces scarred.
Their eyes were shining in the darkness like cats or wolves. They
charged toward Elena and St. George, their footsteps kicking sand
behind them as they ran.
“Be ready!” St. George shouted. Elena dropped the musket,
pulling pistols from her bandolier, one for each hand. The Crimson
116 John Wick

Raiders were almost on them. One man targeted her. Twice as big as
Ignazio, arms wide and thick like legs. His eyes on fire. Lips frothing.
He raised a large sword.
Elena pointed the pistol at him. Squeezed the trigger. Felt it click
under her finger. The whole world slowed down as the flint and
steel hit, sending a spark into the weapon, igniting the gunpowder.
It stung her eyes and nose, kicking in her hand. The shot hit the
man in the shoulder, spinning him around, then face down into the
wet mud.
She aimed her second pistol, but the pirate was too close. She
charged in, aiming her teeth at Elena’s hand. Elena spun backward,
the pirate running through. Elena felt her finger squeeze the trigger
and the pistol shot into the mud. Elena dropped the pistol, grabbed
the sword at her belt and drew it free from the scabbard just as the
mad-eyed pirate made another charge.
The Crimson Raider swung a hatchet at Elena’s head. Elena
ducked, swinging the sword at the Raider’s torso. The blade caught
flesh and Elena pulled the length of it through. The Raider buckled
forward, stumbled, then fell forward.
Elena looked at St. George and saw three bodies around him.
His sword was bloody and gleaming, stuck through the belly of a
Raider. And just behind him, another one leapt up, swinging his
sword at St. George’s head.
Elena looked and pulled.
The Raider went straight over St. George, the sword only catch-
ing his shoulder. The Raider landed face first in the mud. Elena put
her foot on the back of his neck and the tip of her sword against
his back.
“Don’t move,” she said.
The Raider’s fingers let loose his sword and he mumbled some-
thing into the mud. St. George stepped up, his chest heaving deep
 Daughter of Fate 117

breaths. “Well done,” he said.

Elena’s hand started shaking, the tip of her sword as well. St.
George took her arm in his large hand.
“I…” she started. “I just…”
He nodded. “Your first fight,” he said. “You acted well. Allowed
your training to take over.” He bent down and pulled a bit of rope
from his pocket, tying the Raider’s hands behind his back. When it
was done, Elena’s hand dropped the sword and she staggered back,
falling against a tree.
She looked around her. Some of the Raiders were dead. The rest,
wounded and groaning. “I did this,” she said, her voice breaking in
her throat. “I…”
“You protected yourself,” St. George said. “These men would
have killed us.”
Elena knew his words were true, but her stomach churned and
her head swam. She looked at her hands and saw blood. They shook
as she looked. She bent down and wiped them in the mud.
St. George said, “We must move. Others will find us soon.”
“What about them?” Elena asked, pointing at the captives.
“We leave them,” he said.
“They wouldn’t leave us,” Elena said, her voice sharp.
St. George looked into her eyes. “And we are not them.”
Elena nodded. She stood, looking down at her muddy hands.
The hate and rage she felt was fading, replaced by something else.
She looked at the bodies of the dead and felt her limbs shudder. She
remembered Felice and Ignazio at the party. And for a moment, she
wondered if her brothers’ voices were the ones she was feeling in
her heart.
“I hate them,” she said. “And I want to kill them for what they
did to my family.”
“Is that all you feel?” St. George asked.
118 John Wick

Elena looked at him. “No.”

St. George nodded. “The best way to win a battle is never let it
begin,” he said. “Taking the life of another is always a sin. Even if it
is to protect another. But the sin of taking a life is redeemed by the
lives you save.”
Elena shook her head. “It’s awful,” she said.
“Come, Miss Mondavi,” St. George said, grabbing her sword and
pistols from the mud, putting them before her. “Time for this talk
when we are safe on the ship.”
Elena took the blade and sheathed it at her hip. She put the
pistols in her bandolier. “Never again, St. George,” she said.
“Talk later,” he said. “Now, run.”

***

They met with the rest of the marines a few minutes later. Elena
saw a few bandages but all the marines were alive and well. She
couldn’t help but smile.
“The camp is ours,” St. George said. He looked out at the Raiders’
ship. “And they haven’t sent reinforcements.”
“Too much of a risk?” Elena asked.
St. George nodded. “Aye. They must have heard the guns. If
they haven’t sent anyone else, they know we can target them as they
approach the shore.”
Elena felt relief wash over her. She wanted no more violence.
St. George said, “We were supposed to sabotage the ship, but it
is anchored too far out for muskets. And now that they know we
are here…”
One of the marines stepped forward. He was small, almost as
small as Elena. His dark hair was pulled back in a long braid and
his face was sharp. His name was Wojda. And when he spoke, even
 Daughter of Fate 119

when whispering, he sounded angry.

“Attack the ship,” he said. “We’ve taken out twenty of them.
Probably their best fighters. We should attack the ship.”
St. George shook his head. “Our orders were to sabotage the ship.
We can’t do that. We head back.”
Wojda said, “We didn’t have orders to take out the beach. We
did that.”
St. George said, “We had surprise on our side. And the numbers
were fair. Attacking the ship would be suicide.” He gestured out to
the bay. “They have another hundred hands, maybe more. There are
only ten of us.” He stood and began walking back into the jungle.
“We will return to the ship.”
Wojda put his hand on St. George’s shoulder. “Sir,” he said. “We
can take the ship.”
St. George stopped and looked at him. “They will have watches
out, looking for us. We will be halfway across the water when they
hit us with those cannons.” He looked up. “The moonlight will give
us away. No. We go back.”
Elena said, “Maybe not.”
They all turned to look at her. She smiled. “I have an idea.”

***

Her mother called her Radoslava when she was born back in
Ussura. Reis gave her a new name. Reis called her Aynur. Light of
the Moon. And Reis put her name on her skin, mixing their blood.
“My sister,” she said, standing under the shining moon, her blade
glowing bright. Aynur looked into Reis’s eyes—those glowing eyes—
and said her name. Reis’s tattoos glowed with the same light and she
felt their fire.
A year later, she stood on the prow of her own ship, Vengeance,
120 John Wick

looking out at the shore with her spyglass. They spent the day
hunting a ship flying the Brotherhood of the Coast colors. It was
nearly theirs until it found a small chain of islands with shallow
waters. Too shallow for the Vengeance’s draft. And so, the waiting
game. She sent a small crew ashore for supplies and settled in to see
which way the Brotherhood ship would go.
A few moments ago, her watch heard gunshots. She came up to
the deck with her spyglass, peering at the beach. She saw her men
run into the jungle, heard more shots, but then, nothing.
Her first mate, the Inishman named O’Toole, asked her, “Shall
we send more ashore, ma’am?”
She shook her head. “No. They’ll just take pot shots from the
shore as they land.”
More shots. The sounds of swords. Then, nothing.
She collapsed the spyglass and tucked it into her belt. “They’re
dead,” she said. “Nothing we can…”
“Look!” one of her crew shouted.
She looked through the spyglass again. Some of her men moving
bodies to the shore. Blood and wounds. One of them gagged. His
skin said he was from Ifri. A nasty wound on his shoulder.
“Good,” she said, smiling. “If we got an officer, he will tell us
much.” She put the spyglass away again. “Prepare to bring them
aboard,” she said.
With her command, the crew moved quickly. She heard the
orders shouted behind her back as she watched the survivors drag
their hostage onto a dinghy and begin rowing toward the Vengeance.
She turned and walked back to her cabin, smiling with sharp-
ened teeth.

***
 Daughter of Fate 121

St. George sat in the dinghy, the ropes around his wrists already
undone. He was just waiting for the right moment.
The two rowers had their backs to the Crimson Raiders’ ship,
disguising who they really were. Miss Mondavi was on the beach,
hidden behind the overgrowth. His eyes scanned the jungle, but he
did not see her. That was good. He didn’t want the Raiders to see
her, either.
When the dinghy was a third of the way to the ship, he spotted
a woman at the rail. If he were forced to choose, he would have
chosen her for the captain. The way she held herself, the way the
other sailors addressed her. Yes, she was the captain. And she was
watching them.
Turn away, St. George thought. Turn away.
Her eyes glaring, almost burning in the darkness. And he was
sure her teeth were narrowed down to razor sharp points as well.
Turn away.
When they reached the halfway point, as if his thoughts could
command her, she turned from the rail and walked back toward the
cabins. He gave her the count of ten, then acted.
He grabbed one of the four muskets they brought with them
onto the dinghy and aimed it at the ship’s rudder. He gave himself a
moment to breathe…focus…aim…and…
He squeezed the trigger. The musket kicked his shoulder and
the fire and sulfur filled his eyes and nose. He heard an explosion of
wood, but had to wait for the smoke to clear to take another shot…
if he needed to take another shot.
St. George heard screams from the Raiders’ ship. He ignored
them.
Wojda and his fellow marine picked up muskets, aimed and fired.
Too much smoke to see if they were effective.
“Throw the grenades!” St. George shouted. The marines threw
122 John Wick

down their muskets and picked up the grenades. Wojda lit the wicks
with flint and steel, then handed one to St. George. He pulled his
arm back, then threw the grenade at the rudder.
An explosion. More smoke and fire. More explosions. Sailors
firing from the ship. Water splashed around them. The marine
behind him screamed and fell overboard. St. George tried to grab
him, but he sank quickly, down into the dark water.
Another shot and Wojda fell back and to the side, nearly falling
off the dinghy. St. George grabbed him, keeping him from falling
into the water. But he kept his eyes on the rudder.
The smoke cleared…and he saw what he was looking for.
He held onto Wojda with one hand and the dinghy with another.
He shouted, “Miss Mondavi! Now!”
A moment later, he felt something pull his body back. Back
toward the shore. Holding onto the boat, it jolted with him, kicking
water up over the rim, flooding water over his feet.
He felt another tug, this time more violent. It nearly tore him
from the dinghy. It also pulled the boat almost a quarter of the way
back to the shore before it lost its momentum.
Wojda made a painful sound, somewhere between a moan and a
laugh. “Witch has got an arm on her,” he said.
Another tug. More shots from the Raiders’ ship. St. George
expected cannons. Perhaps the cannon crew was not ready.
But then, he heard them.
The sound made his stomach quake. And he saw fire rush by him,
hot enough to catch his shirt on fire. It landed in the water next to
them, making it steam and boil as it floated down below the waves.
St. George grabbed the shirt and tore it from his body. With his
hands free of Wojda and the dinghy, he felt another pull.
He left his feet, straight into the air. At the last moment, he
reached down and grabbed the edge of the dinghy, bringing it with
 Daughter of Fate 123

him. He splashed into the water in front of the dinghy, a flaming

cannonball rushing by where his head was a moment ago. Bullets
flying everywhere, splashing into the water, hitting the wood.
They were close to the shore. Close enough to swim. He grabbed
Wojda and threw the boat over, giving them cover.
“Hold on!” he shouted.
Wojda grabbed onto the dinghy, wincing. And together, they
started kicking, bringing the dinghy back to the shore.

***

Elena saw St. George flip the boat and she nearly collapsed.
Again her hands were covered in blood, but this time, the blood was
her own. Her fingers burned. After the third tug, she felt something
lash her back and she almost screamed, falling to her knees. She had
never felt such pain. She was confused. The pain was always in her
hands, the wounds on her fingers. She reached behind her, touching
the pain. She felt blood. Her canvas smock was stuck to her skin.
When she saw St. George and Wojda arrive on the shore, she felt
tears in her eyes. They ran across the beach, out of range of the ship’s
cannons, but running nonetheless. When he reached her, she looked
up at him, her eyes wet.
“Your plan worked, Miss Mondavi,” he said. He was smiling. But
then he saw her hands. “What happened?” he asked.
“The price of meddling with fate,” Elena said. She forced a smile
on her face. “And protecting my friends.”
St. George’s smile turned into a frown. “Let us get back to the
ship,” he said. “Hurry!”
He helped Elena stand. She could barely walk. Her whole body
refused to move. The pain made her bones feel like they could break
at any moment. He lifted her completely from her feet and ran
124 John Wick

through the jungle with his marines.

“You injured yourself to protect me,” St. George said.
She nodded. “Of course. We’re friends.”
St. George said, “More than that, Miss Mondavi.”
Elena felt herself fading. “My name is Elena,” she said.
Her vision was dark, her lips numb. But she heard him whisper
into her ear, “Mine is Nkosana.”
“Nkosana,” she mumbled. And then, she was gone.

***

Later, on the ship, she sat cross-legged on the deck with a bit
of rope, practicing a rolling hitch, a cup of grog by her knees. Her
hands were still in bandages, making the work harder than it should
have been. The doctor told her to rest, but she had to know if she
had lost any sensation in her fingers. She only learned it was too
soon to tell. She put the rope down. A shadow passed over her and
she looked up. Veronica looked down at her.
“St. George told me what happened on the island,” she said.
Elena nodded, shading her eyes against the sun.
Veronica sat down next to her, picking up some rope. “He said
you never wanted to fight again.” She tied a half hitch, untied it.
“That presents a problem on this ship.”
Elena looked at her. “I won’t kill,” she said. “Ever again.”
Veronica said, “You can’t make that kind of promise. You
shouldn’t make that kind of promise.”
Elena said, “Never again.”
Veronica wrapped the rope around her wrist, tied it off. “If you
were offered the choice to take a life or lose your sister, what would
it be?”
Elena frowned, her eyes narrowing. “That isn’t fair.”
 Daughter of Fate 125

“It’s a choice,” she asked. “Would you kill to protect your sister?
Your brother?”
Elena grabbed the grog and took a sip. She didn’t answer.
Veronica said, “When we attack ATC ships, they’re not just car-
rying sugar and tobacco, they’re carrying slaves. People who were
forced from their homeland to work until they die.”
Elena turned away. Veronica put her fingers on Elena’s chin and
turned her back.
“Those people deserve freedom,” she said. “And the ATC doesn’t
care. They let them die in the hull. I’ve seen it.”
Elena snapped her chin away, turning toward the rail.
“The whole point of all this,” Veronica said, gesturing at the ship,
“is freedom. The freedom to go wherever we want. The freedom
to live wherever we please.” She put her hand on Elena’s shoulder.
“Others deserve that freedom, too.”
“We don’t have to kill for it,” Elena said.
“Sometimes we do. Because the people who keep slaves will fight
to keep them.”
Elena remained still, her thoughts rushing through her head.
Finally, she said, “I will fight. But I will not kill. Not unless…” She
paused.
Veronica said, “I understand.” She stood. “We’ll be passing San
Cristobal soon. If you want to leave the ship, you can take your share
with you when you go.” She walked away, back to the cabin.
Elena sat and listened to the sounds of the sea and the ship. The
waves, the sailors working and calling out to each other, the creak of
the wood. And she remembered the look of the man she shot. His
eyes. The way his body jerked when her shot hit him.
She remembered their teeth. Sharpened down to points. The red
in their eyes. And she remembered the fear she felt when she saw one
of them bearing down on St. George. She remembered his words.
126 John Wick

Taking the life of another is always a sin. Even if it is to protect

another. But the sin of taking a life is redeemed by the lives you save.
She looked up and saw him at the prow of the ship, talking to
Griffin. The two men were laughing, sharing some story or another.
“Of course,” she told him. We’re friends.”
And he said, “More than that, Miss Mondavi.”
Veronica’s voice in her head then. “Would you kill to protect your
sister? Your brother?”
She thought of Ignazio. She couldn’t remember his voice. It was
hard to remember his face. Catarina’s was even harder to summon.
But her heart swelled when she thought of them. She clutched her
chest as if it would explode.
Your sister? Your brother?
Speaking very softly, she said, “I don’t know.”
As she watched Griffin and St. George, she saw the Master at
Arms smile at her. Put his finger and thumb at his brow, a small salute.
Elena returned a sad smile and his salute.
“I don’t know,” she said.
 Daughter of Fate 127

6
The cannon fired, filling the deck with stinking smoke that made her
cough and wheeze. Even with plugs in her ears, even with her hands
on the sides of her head, the sound nearly knocked Elena off her feet.
She felt the explosion in her belly, felt her heels lift from the planks.
The violence of it. The cannon wrenching back. The fire.
And she smiled. This was why the gunner’s mates loved what
they did.
Deaf Henry looked at her from the other side of the cannon.
Saw her smile. “That’s what I like to see,” he said. He walked from
the other side of the cannon to where Elena stood. “This here is an
8-pounder. Her name is Diplomatic Solution.” He pointed at the
man standing behind the cannon. “That there’s Violet Michael. He’s
assigned to her.”
Elena curtseyed and Michael tipped his hat. “Why do they call
you Violet?” she asked.
Deaf Henry said, “He got his head in a keg of dye one night. His
head and hair was purple for a month.”
The gunner’s mates all laughed. Elena laughed with them.
Deaf Henry stepped around the cannon. Elena could feel the
heat from the metal, even this many moments from the time it fired.
He said, “The crew and I… we’s got a request.”
Elena looked up at the large man. His bald head. His milky eye.
His missing ear. Henry’s skin was as rough as leather and his beard
had patches where the skin was even thicker.
“What is it?” she asked.
“We’d like to ask, if ’n it’s no problem, that is, if you’d… um…”
Henry looked to the left, then the right.
128 John Wick

“If you’d bless the cannons.”

Elena felt her eyes widen, her smile growing on her face. “Bless
the--?”
“Bless the cannons. Yes.” Henry nodded. “We knows you’re a
Vodacce… Well, ya got the Vodacce magic. And we’d like ya to…
you know…bless ‘em.”
Elena looked around the room at the gunner’s mates. All of them
watching, waiting for her reply.
She swallowed, then looked up at Deaf Henry. “Of course I will,”
she said.
Elena walked to the end of the deck, standing by the door. She
turned her head, looking all across the small room. Then she walked
forward, stopping at the first cannon. She read the name, then said
it out loud.
“Venerable Jack,” she said. She bowed and kissed the cannon.
Another two steps. “Pretty Patience,” she said. She bowed and
kissed the cannon.
All along the larboard side of the ship. A kiss for each one. Then
she turned and went down the starboard side.
“Anderssen’s Widow,” she said. She bowed and kissed the cannon.
All the while, the gunner’s mates watched her, almost holding
their breath.
When she reached the last one, she said its name out loud, then
kissed it. And the crew cheered.
She had done nothing. But they thought she had.
Deaf Henry stepped forward. “Thank you, ma’am,” he said.
“Master Gunner,” she said. “I am a deckhand on this ship. You
don’t call me ‘ma’am.’ I call you ‘sir.’”
Then she said his name and she kissed him.
 Daughter of Fate 129

7
Standing in the crow’s nest, Elena spied the ship through her looking
glass. “A galleon,” she said, turning to Tamara Shore, one of Harry’s
newer riggers. They acquired her after taking an ATC ship off the
coast of Montaigne.
Tamara nodded. “Right you are.” Tamara’s skin was the color of
coffee, her head completely shaved. And when she smiled, her white
teeth glistened. “And what colors is she flying?”
Elena peered through the glass again. “ATC,” she said. “Which
means they’re open game.”
Tamara took back her spyglass and tucked it into her pocket.
“The Atabean Trading Company. Trading in sugar, tobacco, and
human lives for over one hundred years.”
Elena hung over the side of the crow’s nest like a spider clinging
to its web. “I’ll tell the captain. Fix the sails for battle.”
“Aye, ma’am.”
Elena said, “Be quiet about it.”
Tamara nodded. Elena grabbed a fast line and took it down
to the deck, her feet landing hard on the rails. She ran across the
ship to the Captain’s door and knocked on it. “Sail, sir,” she said.
And waited.
A moment later, he emerged, needing to duck under the doorway.
“Miss Mondavi?” he asked. “What’s the rumpus?”
“Sail, sir,” she said. “I told Tamara to keep it quiet.” She pointed
in the direction. Captain Griffin stepped out on the deck.
Veronica was there and she saw his signal. “No calls,” she said,
calmly. Word went down the deck. Then, she looked at Elena.
“Where’s Harry?”
130 John Wick

“Not his watch,” Elena said.

Veronica said, “It is now.” She turned to another sailor. “Get the
captain of the tops.” The sailor nodded and ran off.
Griffin took out his own spyglass, peering out across the early
morning light. There was still fog on the water and the nearby island
gave them cover. They’d docked in the bay last night, keeping out
of sight.
“ATC,” he said, spotting the ship. “Right then.” He tucked away
the glass and looked at Veronica. “No calls, no bells. Tell Mister
Zapatero to get us behind her.”
Veronica touched her forehead. “Aye, sir,” she said, and went to
the wheel.
The Captain looked back at Elena. “Sharp eye, Miss Mondavi.
That’s the third ship this week.”
“I only follow the strands, sir,” she said, touching her hat.
“Keep doing that,” he said. “An extra measure for grog for you
tonight.”
Elena smiled and nodded, then went back to the rigging. She’d
be sharing her extra measure. Grog made her sickly. She’d keep to
her hand-brewed tea.

***

Sailors passed orders softly as they moved through the mist.

Elena watched from the rigging, the strands tightening between the
two ships.
“What do you think, Mondavi?” Harry asked. “They spotted us
yet?”
Elena shook her head. “Not yet,” she said. “Soon.”
Down below, sailors moved guns to the prow of the ship, readied
boarding hooks and muskets. Three ships in seven days. So far, no
 Daughter of Fate 131

fighting. As soon as the other ships spotted their black flag, they sent
up white flags.
She remembered the first ATC ship they captured after Elena
officially joined the crew, full of men and women from Ifri. No other
cargo. Elena remembered watching Veronica and her crew bringing
the men and women up to the deck, wondering when the bodies
would stop. One after another, all crammed below. She knew the
sailors on the Morning Star had little room below decks, but the
Ifrians were packed like cargo, not human beings.
Elena remembered seeing one of the women shining like a star.
When Elena looked and saw her Arcana, the woman looked back at
her, as if she knew what Elena was doing. A year later, Tamara was
with her, in the rigging.
“What do you think, Elena?” Tamara asked. “They got any fight
in them?”
Elena shook her head. “No, they’ll be waving a white flag as soon
as they see us.” She saw a loose line and tightened the knot. “ATC
ships are supposed to surrender. They’re under orders. That’s what
makes them such easy targets.”
And no killing, Elena thought to herself.
Tamara laughed, the wind in her hair, her smile bright as a star.
“This is a life I never thought I would have.”
Elena nodded. “I know exactly what you mean.”
Just then, the Morning Star broke through the fog. A few
moments later, the ATC ship lifted a white flag onto its mast. The
crew below Elena cheered.
“Make ready!” Captain Griffin shouted. “They’re flying ATC
colors! That means they’re lying, cheating scum!”
The crew roared in agreement.
“But they’re also cowards,” the Captain called. “Be ready for any
trickery!”
132 John Wick

“Cut the sails for speed?” Elena asked.

Harry nodded. “Faster the better,” he said. “We don’t want to
give them any time to plan and prepare.”
The Morning Star caught the wind and swept up on the ATC
ship. Elena saw its name, branded on the side, La Visitación de
Nuestra Señora.
Down below, the cannons fired a warning shot while the Captain
called for the Nuestra Señora to drop its sails. Through her spyglass,
Elena saw the sailors moving about the deck in a panic. Then she
saw a line of men and women in shackles, marched up to the deck.
“They’re bringing cargo up!” she shouted below.
“What kind of cargo?” Griffin asked.
“Slaves!” she shouted down. She looked through the glass again.
She saw the slaves—hands and feet bound in irons—standing by
the rails.
And she saw sailors pushing them over the side.
“Mio Dio!” she shouted. Elena dropped her spy glass. It fell
through the rigging, crashing on the deck, just a foot from Grif-
fin’s head.
The Captain looked up. “Miss Mondavi!” he shouted. “A call
from above…”
Elena interrupted him. “They’re throwing the slaves overboard!”
she shouted down.
The Captain looked up at her, blank eyed.
“They’re throwing the slaves overboard!” she shouted again.
Griffin stood still, as if someone had hit him. Then, he shouted,
“Full sail! Now!”
Just above her, Harry repeated the order and the riggers went to
work.
“We’ll never get there in time,” Tamara said.
Harry called down, “We will.”
 Daughter of Fate 133

Elena looked across the waves at the ATC ship. She watched
another line of bodies thrown over the rail. The line behind them
tried to struggle, but the marines on board pointed muskets at them.
“Drown or get shot,” Elena said.
Tamara said, “They’re going over the side one way or another. So,
it’s drown or get shot and drown.” She tied off a knot. “Best to go
over the side without a bullet in you.”
Down below, Veronica called for grappling hooks. “Pull them
out of the water if you can!” she shouted.
The Morning Star caught the wind and the wood ached as she
picked up speed. Waves crashed along the prow of the ship. Wind
whipped Elena’s braid along her shoulders and neck. She cupped her
eyes and looked.
No…we’re not going to make it in time.
She watched as the men and women, ankles and wrists bound in
heavy iron, tried to keep afloat. The first line was already half under,
the weight of the irons and the bodies who couldn’t swim dragging
them down. Another line behind them was worse off. Elena couldn’t
see more than two heads above the waves.
By the time the Morning Star reached the first line it was gone.
So was the second. But the third was still fighting to stay above water.
Veronica had sailors on the rail with hooks, scooping down. They
grabbed the chains and lifted, pulling the bodies up. All the sailors
tied together, tied to the mast, to make sure nobody was pulled over.
Slowly, they pulled the slaves up from the water.
Elena counted ten lines thrown over. Ten bodies to the line.
When she looked down at the deck, only two lines were saved. Out
of them, half were drowned.
To catch the drowning slaves, Griffin called to cut sail. Elena
looked up at the horizon. The ATC ship was almost out of sight.
So, Elena looked.
134 John Wick

And she saw the black strand. Still new, but it was there. From
her to the ship.
“You lookin’?” Tamara asked.
Elena just nodded.
From below, she heard Veronica’s voice. “Elena?”
Tamara shouted, “She’s got ‘em!”
“Straight on,” Elena whispered, her eyes focused. Tamara repeated
the call, shouting down to the deck.
It was the black strand. And for the first time, Elena wasn’t afraid.

***

A meeting in the Captain’s cabin. Elena watched as Griffin,

Veronica, and Zapatero looked over charts. She didn’t understand
them and they didn’t have time to explain.
“They’re headed for the plantations on Ayiti,” Griffin said, point-
ing at the chart. “If Elena’s right about their heading.”
“I am right,” Elena said. Nobody doubted her.
“Do you think they still have slaves on board?” Zapatero asked.
The man had the largest beard Elena had ever seen, almost devour-
ing his entire face. The rest of his hair was thick like wool. He stood
shorter than Griffin, taller than Veronica, and his hands were wide.
“I do,” Griffin said. “Otherwise, they would have run another
direction.”
Veronica said, “They could be running for safe waters, knowing
that we’re following them.”
Griffin looked at Elena. “Do they know we’re following them?”
Elena shook her head. “I cannot say for certain, but I do not
think so.”
Veronica asked, “How do you know?”
“Tamara and I cannot see them from the spy glass,” Elena said.
 Daughter of Fate 135

“We are following the strand.” She shrugged. “If we cannot see
them…”
Veronica nodded. “It’s a safe assumption,” she said. Then, she
looked back down at the chart. “It’s open sea between here and
there,” she said. “If we’re going to ambush them, we’ll need to do it
at night. When they’re docked.”
Zapatero pointed at a small island on the chart. “Here,” he said.
“Herrera’s Island.” He looked at the rest of them. “A good place to
stop. Pick up fresh water, some turtles for soup.”
Griffin nodded. “Agreed,” he said. “If we can catch them when
half the crew is ashore…”
“We can,” said Veronica.
Griffin looked at Elena. “You can get us there?”
Elena said, “I can.”
Zapatero said, “If you can find them, I can get us close.”
Elena said, “I don’t need to find them. I know exactly where
they are.”
Zapatero said, “Tricky skill you have there, girl. I pity whoever
you choose for a husband.”
Veronica laughed. “Save your pity for the Nuestra Señora,”
she said.
They all moved to leave the room. As Veronica passed by, Elena
said, almost under her breath, “I have no pity left for them.”

***

Two nights later, they made their move.

The moon was gone, leaving only stars and a dark sky. Griffin
called for full sail. He knew the Morning Star was faster, but she was
also outgunned. He made the order for full quiet. No lights. Get as
close as you can and only fire when the command is given.
136 John Wick

Elena followed the black strand. From her to the ship. Someone
on the ship. And her heart beat like mad for all of those two days.
As the Morning Star crept closer, the Nuestra Señora lay in harbor,
in a small bay. Herrera’s Island was the largest of a small stretch of
islands, midway between western Montaigne and the Atabean Sea.
Too small for a fort, but just big enough to accommodate a crew
stopping for rest. Fresh water, plenty of wood, and brimming with
life. Seagulls, seals, and turtles. Thousands of them. So big, you’d
need three men to carry one.
The Nuestra Señora sat in the bay. Griffin dropped anchor on the
other side of the island, sending a small crew to spy. He watched
them from the ship as they sent signals with a mirror.
“Half the crew on the island collecting supplies,” he said. “Perfect.”
He looked at Veronica. “Weigh anchor. Come around the island.
Their prow is facing south. Make sure they get a good look at our
broadside.”
Veronica smiled. “Aye, sir.” And gave the order.
Up in the rigging, Elena felt the ship lurching forward. She saw
the black strand tightening. Twisting. Touching her heart with its
cold tendrils. One hand on the rigging, she had her other on the
sword at her hip. And she glared, waiting to see the Nuestra Señora.
The island’s trees provided cover as the Morning Star crested the
shore. Close enough to block their approach, but not too close to
run aground.
Then, a parting of the trees. And the Nuestra Señora.
“No firing ‘till my command,” the Captain ordered, his voice low.
The order went across the deck and down to the cannons.
Elena saw sailors moving on the other ship, lugging cargo, patch-
ing sails. Carpenters hanging off the sides, making repairs. The sails
were folded. Gun doors shut.
Just as the Morning Star’s guns cleared the island’s bank, Griffin
 Daughter of Fate 137

shouted the order to fire. Elena clutched tight to the ropes, wrap-
ping an ankle around a line as the whole ship lurched with the shots.
She heard the cannons firing, like a thousand fingers snapping in her
ear all at once. She smelled the burning and smoke.
Across the water, the Nuestra Señora’s main mast snapped in two
places. The deck exploded, sending shards of wood and thousands
of splinters into her crew. She saw their bodies obliterated in hails of
smoke and flame and wreckage. And she heard their screams.
“Hard-a-lee, my bullies,” Griffin called from below. “Keep the
wind!”
The ship moved clear of the Nuestra Señora, its crew scrambling.
When the Morning Star showed her aft, Vanessa ordered the chase
guns to fire, sending grape shot into the scrambling crew.
“Hard! Hard!” the Captain shouted at the helm.
Zapatero shouted back, “Hard, sir! Aye!”
At the wheel, Zapatero turned the ship slow enough to get
another shot from the Morning Star’s larboard side. He turned the
wheel hard and fast, and then tied a rope around one spoke, locking
it in place.
Elena watched the sailors on the other ship. Bodies strewn across
the deck. Sailors struggling with fire. With the main mast gone,
there was no escape. She saw one man pick up a length of torn sail
and wave it above his head.
“Nos rendimos!” he shouted. Then, in Numanari, “Paradósei!
Paradósei!”
Zapatero shouted, “They’re surrendering, Captain!”
Griffin gritted his teeth. “I’m sure they are,” he said. “Henry!” he
shouted, “Make ready for…”
Veronica put her hand on his shoulder. He stopped and looked
at her.
She shook her head. “Enough.”
138 John Wick

Griffin nodded. “All right.” But then he said, “Tell them if there’s
any trouble at all, whoever causes it will regret it.”
She said, “Aye, sir.”
“Mister Zapatero!” Griffin shouted. “Bring us up for boarding.”
He walked to the trap for the gun deck. “Henry! If you so much as
see the hint of a gun or cannon, sink her.”
From down below, Deaf Henry said, “Aye, sir. With pleasure.”
Elena swung down from the rigging, landing next to the Captain.
“Sir?” she said. “Permission to accompany you to the ship.”
Griffin eyed her. “Something you want to see for yourself, Miss
Mondavi?”
“Aye, sir,” she said.
Griffin looked at her hand, resting on her sword.
“Be my personal guard, Mondavi,” he said. He looked her in the
eye. “You’re an officer on my ship. I expect you to act like one.”
She touched the bill on her cap. “Aye, sir. Understood.”
Wojda dropped the gang plank between the two ships, St. George
beside him. The Captain said, “I want twenty marines. Keep good
watch on yourselves.”
And they crossed the gangplank over to the Nuestra Señora.
Elena looked at the wreckage. Black smoke. Shattered beams.
Broken bodies. The screams of pain. And from her, the black strand,
stretching forward then down into the hold. Her hands shook. Her
belly quaked.
St. George stood beside her for a moment. “Are you all right?”
he asked.
Elena looked at the wounded and dying. She nodded. “Sí,” she
said. But she did not recognize her voice. It reminded her of Felice.
The sailors wore the uniforms of the ATC, some of them a little
more worn than others. The man who flew the white flag stepped
forward, a messy gash on his forehead dripping blood over his nose.
 Daughter of Fate 139

“Señor,” he said. “Mi nobmre es Darío Vargas.” He continued in

Castillian. “I am the officer of the watch.”
Griffin replied in the man’s native tongue. “You have the author-
ity to surrender the ship?”
Vargas nodded. “I do. The Captain is ashore, and I’m certain
she’s hiding. Hoping you will not venture onto the island to find
her.” Then, he said, “You are from the ship we saw before, yes?”
Griffin nodded.
“I want you to know it was not my choice to do what was done.
It was the Captain’s. I tried to convince her not to do it, but she did
not listen to me. I do not want to neglect my blame or avoid pun-
ishment, but only to ask your forgiveness.” He made the sign of the
Prophets’ Cross and knelt before Griffin.
Griffin stood for a moment. Elena looked at him and saw he was
thinking. Griffin looked at Elena. “Is he telling the truth?”
Elena looked at the man. His Arcana was bright. She saw a fraying
strand from Vargas to another in the jungle. Her authority over him
was strained, nearly gone. Elena turned her gaze to Griffin. Her face
told him what she knew.
Griffin said, “This woman is from Vodacce. And she can see.” He
paused. “You understand me, don’t you, Vargas?”
Vargas nodded. “I do,” he said.
“Your repentance is between you and God, not you and me,”
Griffin said. “I believe you tried to stop it. But you should have tried
harder.”
“As Theus is my witness,” Vargas said, his eyes still cast down. “I
will die with the faces of those men and women in my eyes.”
Griffin looked at Veronica. She nodded, her lips curled into
a frown.
“By the Code of the Brethren, I am bound to leave you on an
island with both food and water. This island fulfills my obligation.
140 John Wick

Gather the rest of your crew and head out. Take medicine for the
wounded, but nothing else. Your ship and its cargo belong to us
now.”
Vargas stood. He looked up at Griffin. “I will not forget your
mercy, Captain.” He said, extending his hand.
“My name is Taliesin Griffin.” The Captain shook Vargas’ hand.
“I pray God forgive your sin.”
Vargas began shouting orders. The ATC sailors gathered their
wounded and made their way to the dinghies. After a few moments,
they were gone. After a few more, the Morning Star’s crew lifted the
slaves from the hold and unlocked their chains.
But the black strand still led down to the bottom of the ship.
Would you kill for your sister? Your brother?
Elena said, “There’s someone else down there.”
Veronica frowned. “Someone from the crew?”
“I don’t know.” Elena drew her sword and followed the black strand.
“Elena?” Veronica asked. “What’s wrong?”
Elena did not wait. She followed the strand. It led down into the
hold. She passed the boxes and crates and bags swinging from hooks.
Toward the back of the hold. The black strand led straight through
the wall.
Who would you kill for?
“Whoever it is,” Elena said, “they’re back behind this.”
Veronica said, “Behind this?” She touched the wood. Knocked
on it. “It’s hollow,” she said. “A smuggling hold!” She almost laughed.
“I’ve never heard about a smuggling hold on an ATC ship before.”
Veronica ran her fingers along the wood until she found some-
thing. “Here,” she said and touched a knot in the wood. A panel in
the wall unlocked.
The black thread tightened. Elena felt her heart pounding against
her chest.
 Daughter of Fate 141

She heard Felice’s voice. Remembered his eyes. The moment he

put the knife in Ignazio’s back.
Veronica pushed the panel open. The room was dark, no candle
or lantern. As the door opened, the light from outside spilled in.
Lying on the floor was a man. No clothes. Iron chains around
his ankles and wrists. The skin under the iron was red and covered
in sores. A dirty plate and a spilled cup by his head. His blond hair a
mess around his face. His beard was long and unkempt.
Elena looked at him. Saw his Arcana, shining bright. So bright,
Elena had to squint. Her fingers tightened around the pommel of
her sword.
Veronica said, “Elena, help me.” She knelt down and touched his
shoulder. He stirred, as if from a sleep. But his eyes were crusty and
could barely open. His parched lips were dry and broken.
Veronica looked from him to the doorway. “Elena,” she said.
Then, she saw the sword. She said the name again, but this time,
with concern.
“Elena,” she said. “What are you doing?”
“He’s going to kill me,” Elena said.
Veronica’s eyes widened. “No,” she said. “Don’t.”
“The black strand,” Elena said. “Either I kill him…or he kills me.”
Her shoulder muscles tensed. Like a predator, she raised her chin.
Her hand was shaking.
Veronica stood, putting herself between Elena and the prisoner.
“Listen to me,” she said. “You can’t kill him. I won’t let you.”
Your sister?
“Either I kill him...” she said again, her voice hollow.
“I don’t believe that,” Veronica said. “I don’t. Believe me, I don’t.”
Elena looked at her. “Why is that?”
Then the man spoke. His voice croaking and creaking. “Because
I’m Jeremiah Berek,” he said. He sat up against the wall. And
142 John Wick

somehow, with dry, broken lips and crusty eyes, he managed a smile
and a wink. “And I don’t kill pirates.”
 Daughter of Fate 143

8
He sat in Griffin’s quarters, the chains gone, taking small sips of soup
and water.
As soon as Griffin saw him, the Captain smiled and raised his
arms. “Berek!” he shouted, embracing the man.
Berek coughed. “You’re killing me, Taliesin” he said, laughing.
Griffin called for food and water, walking back to the cabin. Veron-
ica and Elena followed.
At the table, Griffin asked, “What are you doing in a smuggling
hold?”
Berek took another sip of the soup. “Kidnapped,” he said. “In
a brothel in La Bucca.” He chuckled. “They lured me with a pretty
face, then drugged me and sapped me. Next thing I knew, I was in
that little room, headed for a plantation.”
Griffin said, “What’s the ATC have on your head these days?”
“Ten thousand guilders,” Berek said. “Last I heard.”
Griffin turned to Elena. “This here is the luckiest man I’ve ever
met. Jeremiah Berek. Privateer for Her Majesty Elaine…”
“GOD SAVE THE QUEEN!” Berek shouted, then coughed.
“… gentleman, adventurer, and the unluckiest man in the world
when it comes to pretty faces.”
“Pleased to meet you,” he said, making a faux bow to Elena. He
coughed again.
“Good God, man, did they feed you at all?” Griffin asked.
“Rotten water and rotten meat,” he said. “That was all.” He lifted
the bowl and spooned out the rest of the soup. “Maintaining my
hunger took second place to entertaining themselves.”
“We have to get you back to Avalon,” Griffin said.
144 John Wick

Berek shook his head. “My ship is in La Bucca. And it’ll be

waiting for me there.”
Elena noticed Berek’s eyes kept shifting back to her as he spoke.
Again and again. Finally, he said, “Your lady here from Vodacce?”
“Elena Mondavi,” she said, not extending a hand.
“Mondavi,” Berek said. “Related at all to Ernesto Mondavi?”
She was surprised. Elena nodded. “He is…was my father,”
she said.
His grin grew crooked on his face, as if he were suddenly con-
sidering options. Finally, he asked, “What is an unmarried Vodacce
woman doing all the way out here in the middle of nowhere?”
“Anything she wants,” Veronica said, her voice carrying an edge.
Berek turned to her. “I know what you’re doing out here,” he said.
Then, he looked back at Elena. “I want to know why you’re out here.”
He tapped his spoon on the table. “And not married to a Villanova.”
Elena pushed her chair back, drawing her sword. Griffin jumped
to his feet, Veronica as well. Berek remained seated.
“I told you!” Elena shouted at Veronica. “I told you what lies
between us!”
Griffin asked, “What is going on here, Berek?”
Berek just smiled. “Your Vodacce girl here is worth ten times
what the ATC is paying for me.” His smile kept flashing at Elena.
“Aren’t you?”
“You’ll tell them!” she said. “Cursed traitor! Just for the coins!
You’ll tell them where I am!”
Veronica touched Elena’s sword arm. “He won’t, Elena.” Then,
looking at Berek. “You won’t… Will you?”
Berek pushed his chair back, slowly. He stood. His legs were still
untrustworthy, so he kept himself up by holding the table. “Elena
Mondavi, I swear by my loyalty to the Queen, your secret is safe
with me.”
 Daughter of Fate 145

“I don’t know your Queen!” Elena shouted. “Your vow means

nothing to me!”
Berek nodded. “All right,” he said. He raised his right hand,
keeping his left on the table. Then, he said, “I swear I shall protect
you and your secret, even if it means my own life.”
Elena watched him make his vow, ready to dismiss it again. But
then, as he spoke the words, she felt the black strand’s chilly hold
on her heart…weaken. The strand itself fraying as he spoke, another
taking its place. As if the strand was a bit of yarn, the threads chang-
ing color from black…to gold. And when he finished, the black was
gone. Only the gold remained.
Elena stood silent and still. Her eyes wide open, looking at
the strand. The sword dropped from her hand, clattering on the
wooden floor.
“I guess that disarmed the situation,” Berek said. He looked at
Griffin. “Can I get another bowl of soup? And any rum you might
have. That would be wonderful.”
Elena stood perfectly still. Unmoving. Berek sat back down, fin-
ished the water in his cup, then looked up at her. “Posso aiutarti?” he
asked. “Can I help you?”
Hearing Vodacce spoken startled her and she nearly jumped.
“How did you…?” she began, but didn’t know how to finish
the question.
“How did I…what?” he asked.
She looked again. The black strand, gone. The golden strand. She
looked up at Berek. “What sorcery do you have that can do such a
thing?”
Berek put his chin in his hand, his elbow on the table. “My dear,
I’m certain I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But he said it
with a clear intent of insincerity.
“You…you changed it. The strand. How did you do that?”
146 John Wick

“I made a promise,” he said. “And when a person such as myself

makes a promise, it means a great deal.” He winked. “A promise such
as that can change a person’s fate. Don’t you agree?”
Veronica said, “Come, Elena. There’s work to do.”
“No!” Elena shouted. She slammed a hand on the table. “Tell me
how you did it! Tell me!”
Veronica grabbed her arm. “Elena!”
“Tell me!” Elena shouted again. Her mind reeling back, the black
strand weaving between her brothers. Impossible to break. Impossi-
ble to twist. The knife…
“Tell me!” her voice catching in her throat, tears in her eyes.
“I can’t,” Berek said, his face turning from an impish grin to some-
thing more serious. “Honestly, I can’t.” He leaned back in his chair.
Elena just scowled. Berek went back to eating.
 Daughter of Fate 147

9
The first thing that struck Elena was the smell, almost as if it reached
out and punched her belly. She stood on the dock, taking her first
look at La Bucca. Standing by her side was a Montaigne sailor named
Calixte. He was only a little taller than Elena and only a little heavier.
She’d noticed his clothes were usually cleaner and better kept than
the other sailors on the Morning Star and he also kept away from the
grog. Along with them was Caellach from Inismore. His head was
shaved and he wore no shirt, his chest a canvas of tattoos. His pants
were cut to the knee and his feet were bare. He carried only a knife.
Elena was wearing a new dress: simple and black. Four months
ago, they raided an ATC ship headed from the East. In the hold was
a bolt of silk. When the crew began divvying up the cargo, Elena
claimed the silk.
“Don’t you want some of the gold?” Veronica asked.
“I don’t need any gold,” she said. “Only this.”
She spent the next four months making the dress. Not as extrav-
agant as her dresses at home, but she didn’t want extravagant. She
saw an illustration of a woman from Cathay, dressed in a robe with
wide sleeves. That’s what she wanted. And now, she had it. The dress
made a swooshing sound as she walked and she smiled. Its wide
hemline allowed her legs freedom, a trait she learned was valuable
when they were on San Sancha.
As the ship approached La Bucca, Elena saw the island was
almost too large to be called an island. She stepped off the gang-
plank into the shanty maze covering the entire beach and deep into
the island. Elena couldn’t see anything other than tiny, dilapidated
cottages, fires, and makeshift stills.
148 John Wick

“This is awful,” she said. “How does anyone live like this?”
“Like this?” Caellach said, waving his hand toward the beach, his
Inish voice dripping with sarcasm. “With no king or queen, no par-
liament, no lords or ladies, only citizens?” He smiled and nodded.
“Sometimes, I wonder myself.”
“No kings, no queens, but plenty of sickness and disease,” Calixte
said, covering his nose with a handkerchief. When he noticed
Elena’s reaction, he reached into one of his coat pockets and pro-
duced another. “Mademoiselle Mondavi?” he asked, his mouth and
nose covered.
Elena smiled and took the handkerchief. “Merci beaucoup,” she
said. The only words of Calixte’s language she knew. They bowed
and curtseyed to each other and she took the handkerchief.
“That’s a horse’s hoof if I’ve ever seen one,” Caellach said.
“Pay him no heed,” Calixte said. “The Inish have no sense of
decency.”
“Decency is one thing,” Caellach said. “Courtesy is another.” He
stepped up and offered his arm.
Elena smiled and took it. “Thank you, sir,” she said.
“Wait ‘till he’s got some wine in him,” Caellach said. “You’ll see
Montaigne decency, then.”
Calixte sniffed and offered his own arm. “Mademoiselle?” he asked.
“Merci beaucoup,” she said again, and took his arm as well. And
together they walked into La Bucca.
Elena looked at the streets crowded with men and women,
dressed in motley colors. Everyone seemed to have a bottle in hand,
every step a stagger, every word a curse or swagger.
“I hate La Bucca,” Calixte said. “Tell me why we are here again?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Caellach said. “It’s
wonderful. Look at it.”
Elena laughed at them. “Berek demanded it,” she said. “An
 Daughter of Fate 149

exchange for information.”

“What sort of information, I can only wonder,” Calixte said.
“That Avalon dog has no honor. No scruples. He is a villain and…”
He paused, looking at Caellach. “What is the word?”
“A cad,” Caellach said.
“Oui,” Calixte said. “A cad.” He leaned over to Elena. “He is not
to be trusted.”
Caellach said, “Oh, he’s not all that bad.” He looked at Elena.
“He’s a trickster. And you can always trust a trickster.”
Elena frowned. “If he’s a liar, how can I trust him?”
Caellach said, “He’s not a liar, he’s a trickster. There’s a difference.”
Elena was about to ask what that difference was when Calixte
said, “Ah, we have arrived.” She looked up and saw the place.
It looked like every other tavern Elena had ever seen. The sign
showed a compass with the cardinal directions in the wrong places.
Thick glass windows, music and the sound of drinking from behind
the glass. Flickering lights. She imagined there would be a mixture of
fresh and old straw on the floor. The scent of old beer and unwashed
bodies. Voices trying to sing in unison, succeeding and failing to
different degrees.
“The Broken Compass,” Caellach said. “The finest tavern on La
Bucca.”
“For what that is worth,” Calixte said. Then, to Elena, “Shall we?”
She nodded. “We shall.”
And they went in.

***

After five songs and as many buckets of beer, Caellach and

Calixte were shouting along with the shantyman, arms around
each other’s waists, kissing between choruses. Elena sat beside them,
150 John Wick

trying not to look.

They finished the song, embraced and kissed again. Elena jerked
on Calixte’s coat.
“I thought you didn’t drink!” she shouted at Calixte.
“A special occasion!” Calixte shouted back.
“Every time we come to shore is a special occasion!” Elena said,
smiling. “Why don’t you two go up to your room?” she asked.
Caellach said, “I haven’t had enough to drink for that!”
“Oh, yes you have!” Calixte said. “Drink too much and you won’t
be capable of what I want you for!” He bowed to Elena. “With your
permission, mademoiselle?”
She waved at them. “You don’t need my permission,” she said.
“Go!”
Caellach and Calixte staggered away, the Inishman shouting,
“Find yourself someone, little raven!”
Elena turned, startled. Little raven.
She blinked at the two men as they carried each other away. But
then, the sound of someone dumping their weight into a chair star-
tled her in the other direction.
Berek sat down on the other side of the table, two frothing cups
in his hands, the impact of his landing spilling some of the drink.
“Whoops,” he said, smiling.
He was dressed in a handsome blue coat, his skin tanned and
healthy, blonde hair cut, his beard trimmed neat. Blue eyes flashing
in the dim light.
“Do you know what happens to you when you go to Heaven?”
he asked.
Elena shook her head. “No,” she said, turning slightly away,
watching the musician in the corner.
“There’s a barrel with all the beer you’ve spilled,” Berek said. “And
they duck you down in it head first. And if you can’t drink it all, they
 Daughter of Fate 151

send you straight to Hell.”

Elena couldn’t help but crack a smile. “Is that so?” she said.
Berek asked, “Have a drink with me, señora?”
“That’s Castillian,” she said. Rather than reject the beer, she
accepted it, took a tiny sip, and then set it before her. She wouldn’t
touch it again for the rest of the night. A trick she learned in another
tavern in a time that seemed a thousand years ago. It worked out
better than rejecting the offer and kept her sober. “If you want to
talk to me in my native tongue,” she said in Vodacce, “try harder.”
Berek smiled, nodded, and raised his glass. “My mistake,” he
said, using Numanari. “Is this good enough?”
“Doulévei,” she said, nodding. Good enough. “What do you want?”
“To share a drink with a beautiful young woman!” he said. “Is
that a crime in La Bucca?”
Elena felt her smile creeping up on her face. “No,” she said. “But
it isn’t the truth.”
Berek took a sip of beer and set it down. His smile suddenly
turned serious. He put his arms on the table and leaned forward.
“Can you tell when I’m lying?” he asked.
Elena put her arms on the table and leaned forward. She glared
at him. “Yes.”
Berek held her glare for a moment, then he said, “So the rumors
are true. A fate witch can tell when a man lies to her.”
Elena’s eyes narrowed, her glare in earnest. She looked at him and
saw the strand between them. She reached forward with her fingers,
coiled them around the strand, and jerked Berek toward her.
His body rushed forward, his backside leaving the chair, his
hands and arms flailing at his side for balance. Elena did not let go,
despite the burning in her fingers.
“The rumors are true,” she said. “And it’s not just men.”
She let him go and he fell back into his chair. Elena felt the
152 John Wick

droplets of blood on her fingers and she used Calixte’s handkerchief,

squeezing her fingers tight to stop the tiny wounds.
Berek remained in his chair for a moment, his arms dangling off
the sides, his eyes wide with surprise. Then, he recovered his compo-
sure. He scooted the chair back up to the table.
“Well,” he said. “This is the first time I’ve ever been formally
introduced to a sorte strega.”
“Don’t make it your last, Avalon,” she said. Calixte’s handkerchief
was now dotted with crimson. Elena reached forward and took the
cup of beer Berek put in front of her. She sipped it, then put it back.
Her stomach was quivering. She had seen Veronica intimidate
men before. This was her first time. Elena never needed to intimi-
date the men of the Morning Star. And when she was ashore, she was
always with others.
Berek looked at her, then at the beer. He raised his glass. “Do
you know the Inish drinking prayer?” he asked.
Elena shook her head. “I do not.”
Berek stood up, climbed on his chair, and onto the table. “The
Inish drinking prayer!” he shouted. The room shouted back at him.
“When we drink, we get drunk!” he said, and many in the tavern
said it along with him. “And when we get drunk we fall down! When
we fall down, we fall asleep! And when we fall asleep, we dream! And
when we dream, we commit no sin!”
Berek looked down at Elena. “So, let’s get drunk and go to
Heaven!”
The tavern cheered and Berek stepped down from the table to
the chair to the floor. He smiled at Elena. She smiled back.
“You talk a lot about Heaven,” she said.
“Aye,” he told her. “I do. That’s because I’ve found it.”
She looked at him, a skeptical light in her eyes.
“Found it in the hearts of women all over the world.” He took
 Daughter of Fate 153

another swig of the beer and said, “I’ll tell you another story.”
“Oh,” Elena said. “Please do.”
“When a man dies,” he said, “he goes before the gates of Heaven,
and there is a guardian with a blazing sword.”
“San Piedro,” Elena said. “I know.”
“Very good,” Berek said. “And when a man goes before him, San
Piedro asks for your sins. And you must list them all.”
“All of them?” Elena asked.
Berek nodded. “Aye, all of them. But there is one sin he cannot
forgive.”
Elena turned to look at him. “And what sin is that?”
“Breaking a woman’s heart,” Berek said, his eyes glistening, lips
beaming with a smile.
Elena put her hand on her heart. “Oh,” she gasped, her voice
dripping with sarcasm. “How romantic!”
“It’s true,” he said. “And there’s the problem.”
Elena shook her head, her smile cynical. “Tell me the problem,
oh great scholar of Heaven.”
“For when a man chooses only one woman to love, he breaks
the hearts of all the women who love him.” He raised an eyebrow.
“And that means…loving a woman is what sends a man to Hell.” He
picked up his mug. “But the love of a woman is worth it.”
“Is it now?” Elena asked.
He drank his beer, finishing off the mug. “Aye,” he said. “It is.
Worth an eternity of fire for a few short years of true love.”
“I have a little problem believing what you say, Berek,” she
told him.
“Well,” he said, spreading his hands. “It may not be true, but the
story is often more fun than the truth.”
“A trickster, not a liar,” Elena said, almost under her breath.
“What was that?” Berek asked.
154 John Wick

Elena leaned forward a little, speaking over the crowd. “A friend

of mine said you were a trickster, not a liar.”
Berek’s smile crept up onto his face. “So, you’ve been forewarned
about me.”
“In a way.”
Berek shrugged. “Can’t blame a friend for looking out for a
friend,” he said.
Elena almost laughed. Berek asked, “What is it?”
She said, “I cannot tell if you are sincere or a scoundrel.”
He smiled. “I am a sincere scoundrel.”
Elena laughed out loud. Berek just smiled. When the laughter
faded, he asked, “Can you…see me?”
Elena was confused. “In what way?”
He grabbed another tankard of beer and took a long swig. “I’m
told a witch can see your destiny.” He pointed at his chest with the
tankard. “Can you see my destiny?”
Elena nodded. “I can.”
Berek leaned forward again. “Will you?”
Elena almost laughed. Berek leaned back in his chair. “What?”
he asked.
Her laughter turned into a giggle. “I expected more from the
trickster,” she said.
Berek crossed his arms. “Well,” he said.
“I can read your Arcana,” she said. “But you have to do something
for me, first.”
Berek regarded her for a long moment. Then he said, “Tell me.”
“How did you change the fate strand?” she asked.
He looked confused. “The what?”
“You know what I’m talking about,” she said. “Tell me.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know what you mean. Fate strand?”
Elena leaned forward. “You changed the strand between us.
 Daughter of Fate 155

Changed it from a black strand to something else.”

Berek shook his head. “I don’t know what that means.”
Elena’s lips growled, “Do not lie to me.”
“I thought you could tell when I’m lying,” Berek said. His voice
sounded like he just won a hand of cards.
Elena’s eyes narrowed. And she looked. “Say it again.”
“Say what?” he asked.
“That you don’t know how you changed the strand.”
Berek sat forward, looking into Elena’s eyes. He spoke softly and
slowly. “I do not know what a strand is.”
Elena took a breath. “Very well.” She sat back, focusing on his
Arcana. It gleamed like a rainbow, difficult to look upon directly. She
saw the shimmering lights. Bright as the sun.
“You are The Fool,” she said. “Crossed with The Wheel.” She
looked at the beer and decided to take another drink. It tasted sour
in her mouth and she grimaced.
“You don’t like beer,” Berek said.
Elena shook her head. “No.”
He nodded. “You should try something else then.” He took the
cup away and stood. “I’ll be right back. I’ll bring something else.
And then you can tell me what ‘The fool crossed with the wheel’
means.”
She watched him leave. He ran into the woman in the green
dress serving drinks and apologized, bowing low. He dropped some
coins on her serving plate…and Elena wondered where he got the
coins.
His voice was like music when he spoke. And his eyes almost
begged her to trust him. He was handsome. And even his silly stories
seemed…as if he believed them.
Elena sat at the table listening to the sailors singing. She knew
all the songs, had sung them many times. She did not feel like
156 John Wick

singing now.
Her thoughts turned to Caellach calling her “little raven.” She
remembered something Nana told her. “There are no coincidences.”
They’d sat in front of the fireplace, late at night, when the rest of
the house was asleep. The shadows on Nana’s face made her look like
an old ghost. Elena had already learned how to see the strands and
how to pull them. But between them were the cards. The sorte deck.
Nana laid them out in a cross pattern, showing Elena how to
read them.
“This one,” she said, pointing at the center card, “is the hub of the
wheel. The center of the soul. It is what is most true about the soul.”
She pointed at a card she laid across the hub card. “This is the
crossing card,” she said. “The card that prevents the soul from enact-
ing its destiny.”
“Does everyone have a soul card and a crossing card?” Elena asked.
Nana shook her head. “No. Some people are below fate’s notice.
Part of a wider tapestry that has them bound in place.” She lifted the
two cards in her ancient, spindly fingers. “Only a few have these,”
she said. “Those fate has chosen.”
Nana put the cards back, resting the hub at the center and the
crossing card over it. “You can see those fate has chosen. See their
Arcana. Their hub card and their crossing card.”
Elena asked, “Do I have an Arcana?”
Nana smiled and nodded. “Yes, you do.”
“Can I see it?”
Nana shook her head. “No. A strega cannot see her own fate.”
Elena frowned. Then, she asked, “Can you see my fate, Nana?”
The old woman paused, her old lips trembling. “Yes,” she said.
“I can.”
Berek sat back down at the table, breaking the memory. He had
another pair of cups with him. “Let’s try this,” he said, offering one
 Daughter of Fate 157

of the cups to Elena.

She took the cup and sniffed the contents. To her surprise, it did
not smell like beer or wine.
“What is this?” she asked.
Berek smiled. “It’s a wonderful thing,” he said. “Created by a
man named Benji Fine down in the Atabean.” He sipped the drink
and smiled. “Black treacle and the juice of mango.” He sighed.
“Almost as fine as that honey wine the Vestenmennavenjar keep to
themselves.”
He leaned forward. “Let me tell you something, little witch. The
greatest secret of all the seven seas ain’t no buried treasure. It’s the
recipe to Vesten mead.”
Elena sniffed it again. It was sweet. She recognized the scent of
mango, but the other scent…
She took a small sip.
The mango splashed over her tongue and the other flavor rushed
over her. She smiled. “This is…very nice,” she said.
Berek clanked his cup against hers. “God bless Benji Fine,” he
said. And took another sip.

***

Elena felt the floor moving in the same way the ship moved,
tilting back and forth. She clung to Berek to keep from falling.
“Rooooollll the old…chariot along!” she sang, her voice tilting as
much as the floor.
Berek steadied her as they moved down the corridor. At one
point, she fell so hard, she rammed her shoulder against a door.
“Sorry!” she shouted at the door. “Didn’t mean to wake you!”
Berek laughed as they came to another door. “This is the one?”
he asked.
158 John Wick

Elena looked at the number on the door. “Yes,” she said, slurring
the ‘s.’ “This is it.” She produced a key and handed it to him. “Here,”
she said. “Don’t drop it.”
Berek fit the key into the lock and turned it. The room was so
small, he could put out both hands and not extend his arms. A tiny
bed and nothing more.
Elena flopped down on the bed. “Oh,” she said, face down on
the mattress. “Rum is indeed a wonderful thing.”
Berek nodded and sat down. He couldn’t extend his legs all the
way, so he crossed them. “Yes,” he said. “It is a wonderful thing.”
Elena turned her head and looked at Berek. “The Fool,” she said.
“Crossed with the Wheel.”
Berek smiled. “Yes. You never told me what that means.”
Elena propped herself up on one arm. “It means you’re a bastardo
fortunato—a lucky bastard who gets other people in trouble.”
Berek’s eyes looked away for a moment. “That’s about right.”
Then he said, “No, that’s exactly right.”
Elena looked at the closed door. Then, she looked at Berek.
“Hey…” she started, pointing at the door, then at Berek.
“Oh, don’t worry.” He used the wall to stand himself up. “You are
in no condition for anything I’d be interested in.”
Elena frowned, her brow furrowed. “I…I’m not sure what that
means.”
Standing by the door, Berek said, “It means you should rest.
Tomorrow, I’ll ask you what I wanted to ask you before I introduced
you to rum.”
“Bastardo fortunato,” she said again, the rum smiling for her.
“Yes,” Berek said, opening the door. “Exactly right.” He closed it
behind him.
Elena laid her head down, feeling the cool of the mattress, and
she fell asleep.
 Daughter of Fate 159

***

Morning.
The eggs on Elena’s plate looked anything but appetizing. The
sausage was no better. She just stared at the plate as if the food was
daring her.
Berek sat down on the other side of the table, mug in hand.
“Sleep well?” he asked.
Elena looked up at him, slowly. Moving quickly was not an
option today.
“Drink spring water,” he told her, sipping at whatever was in his
mug. “And make sure to eat something. No matter how it looks.”
“I think I’m dying,” Elena said. She almost burped.
“You’re not dying,” Berek said, smiling. “You’re just paying the
price for joviality.”
Elena picked up her fork and… No. She couldn’t. Just couldn’t.
She asked, “Why aren’t you paying the price for joviality?”
Berek took another sip. “Just lucky.” He saw Elena struggling
and said, “Close your eyes. It helps.”
Elena put down her fork, shut her eyes, picked up the sausage
and bit into it. “You’re right,” she said, chewing. “It does help.”
From beyond her closed eyelids, Berek said, “I’m a helping kind
of person.”
Elena took another bite from the sausage, eyes closed. “What do
you want?” she asked.
“You’ve asked that before,” Berek said.
“I’m asking again.” With eyes closed, she reached out for her cup.
The well water was cold and it felt good in her mouth and down her
throat, chilling her tumultuous belly.
“I need your help,” Berek said. “If I’m to be honest.”
Elena almost chuckled.
160 John Wick

“It’s true,” he said. “I need your help. In fact, you’re the only
person on this island who can help me.”
Elena opened her eyes. She raised an eyebrow at him. “Is that
so?” she asked. And as she did, the rhythmic pain in her head spiked
and she winced.
“That’s true,” Berek said. “You’re the only one.” He took one of
the sausages from her plate and took a bite. “Of course, I won’t be
asking you to help me for free.”
“Of course,” Elena said. Then, sighing, she asked, “What is it?”
Berek put the half-eaten sausage back. “Best sausages in all the
world here in La Bucca. I don’t know what they feed the pigs here,
but there’s nothing like it. Not even in Eisen.”
“Berek…” she mumbled.
He said, “I need to find a woman.”
She glared at him. “You can’t do that on your own?”
“A particular woman.”
Elena closed her eyes and tried to eat the eggs.
“Put the red sauce on them,” he said. “It helps.”
She heard him pick up the bottle and put it close to her. She
reached out, pulled out the cork and poured some of the sauce on
the eggs. Then, she forked a mouthful and…
And…
Her eyes opened wide. She dropped the fork. Her hands went
straight to her lips.
“Oh dear,” Berek said. “That was a bit too much.”
Elena felt her lips burning. Her tongue screamed. She reached
for her mug of spring water, but Berek pulled it away. She looked
back at him, her eyes wide open and weeping, her hands still over
her lips.
“Mango juice or milk,” Berek said, smiling. “Water will only
make it worse.”
 Daughter of Fate 161

Elena looked around the near-empty tavern. Berek handed her

his mug. “Here,” he said.
She grabbed it without thinking, pouring the liquid down
her throat.
“Wash it around your mouth,” he said. “Don’t just swallow.”
She recognized the flavor. It was the rum from last night. She
glared at Berek, unspeaking.
“Best thing for you in the morning,” he said.
She swallowed the rum in her mouth and said, “You bastard.”
Berek pointed at himself. “Trickster,” he said. And he said it in
the same tone Nana used when she corrected her.
Elena threw the empty mug at him, missing as he dodged out
of the way. He looked over his shoulder. “Hey,” he said. “I like that
mug.”
“Do you think there’s any chance of me helping you at all?” Elena
asked, her mouth still aflame.
Berek looked back at her. He picked up the half-eaten sausage
and took another bite. “Mhm,” he said, nodding.
“You’re wrong, Avalon.” Elena stood and walked around the table
toward the stairs.
“You still want to know how I changed the strand?”
She stopped at the foot of the stairs. Turned.
“You said you didn’t know how you changed the strand,” she said.
He finished the sausage. “I said I didn’t know what a strand was.”
He licked his fingers. “Not the same thing.”
Elena walked back to the table. Now, her eyes were on fire as
well. Her nose was full of snot. And she was sure her stomach just
grumbled. And her tongue was still in revolt.
She stood over Berek as he sat back in the chair.
“You know I’m a witch, Avalon,” she said. “You know what I can
do to you.”
162 John Wick

Berek looked at her and nodded. “I do.”

“Then why do you play games with me?”
Berek thought about that question, then said, “You want to
know how I changed the strand. And I know how to answer that
question.”
“More distractions,” Elena said. “I’ll just drag you back to Griffin
and tell him to flog you until you answer me.”
Berek shook his head. “No, you won’t,” he said. “And I don’t
need to be a Vodacce witch to know that isn’t true.” He gestured at
her chair. “Please.”
Elena felt her tongue catch fire with every breath, but the pain
was slowly fading. She walked to the other side of the table and sat
down. She looked at the plate of eggs and pushed them at Berek.
“These are yours now.”
“Thank you.” He picked up her fork and started eating the eggs.
“Delicious,” he said as he chewed.
She waited for a few moments. Then, she said, “Berek.”
“The woman I need to find is a Castillian. She took something
from me when I was kidnapped.”
“How am I supposed to find her?”
He looked up from the eggs. “You’re a witch. Look for her.” He
went back to the plate. “She’d come here to sell it. Even told me she
was going to. I figure she must have gotten here just before we did.
May still be here.”
Elena’s head pounded. This…man…
“And in return,” he said, “I’ll take you to Avalon so you can meet
the man who can tell you how I changed the strands.”
“So, you don’t know?” she asked.
“I have a suspicion,” Berek told her, finishing the eggs. He wiped
his mouth on his sleeve. “But the man I have in mind will know for
certain.”
 Daughter of Fate 163

“And what’s his name?”

Berek shook his head. “Not until you help me find the Castillian.”
Elena nodded. “Agreed. Now. Tell me her name.”
Berek smiled.
164 John Wick

10
Ivette Francesca Delfina Terrazas found the little shack exactly where
she was told to find it. The night was dark and the moon was just a
sliver of silver in the sky. She wore her tall leather boots, her sword
belt—with a pistol stuck in it—and most importantly, her digger’s
coat. She reached into one of its many pockets and took out a small
object that looked like a silver watch, but the face was all wrong.
Then, she looked at the hut.
Ivette shook her head. “No es bueno,” she said. She put the silver
trinket back into a jacket pocket that wasn’t immediately apparent,
and she put her hand on her pistol.
For weeks, she’d been waiting for this meeting. Oleg Vasilev was
not an easy man to meet. Cost her a small fortune to get this far,
showing off the prize he was looking for. He was a collector of rare
items. Specifically, artifacts from Syrneth ruins. She had a reputation
as a woman who could get said items, but even that wasn’t enough to
get the meeting. She had to have one in particular. A prize she stole
from that fool pirate. Swindlers are always easy to swindle. Charm-
ers are always easy to charm.
She stepped up to the door of the hut. She knocked three times.
“Enter,” a deep voice said from inside.
Ivette opened the door. The hut was pitch black. She said to the
dark room, “I do not like surprises.”
On the other end of the room, a man lit a candle. The light
spread into the corners. “My apologies,” he said.
“Oleg,” she said. “All the way from Ussura.”
“Da,” Oleg replied. From the shadows, she saw his huge form, his
thick beard, his black matted hair hung around his face like a smoky
 Daughter of Fate 165

halo. “I hate this place,” he said. “So let us do this quickly.”

Ivette stepped through the door and closed it behind her. This
tiny room in a tiny hut on the edge of a swamp. Ivette stood to the
left of the door. Her hand was still on her pistol.
“Show it to me,” Oleg said.
Ivette shook her head. “Show me the guilders.”
Oleg began to reach under the table, but Ivette drew her pistol,
pointing it Oleg’s way.
Oleg put his hands up. “So suspicious, Terrazas,” he said.
“I have reason to be,” Ivette told him. “You think I don’t know
your reputation?”
Oleg moved slowly, retrieving a large bag from under the table.
He put it down on the wooden planks. “And you think I don’t know
yours?”
Ivette’s eyes began to water. She blinked. Then she felt a trickle
from her nose. Her fingers began to shake. Oleg began to laugh.
“Maltildo…” she whispered as her knees gave out and her fingers
failed and the pistol landed on the hut’s dirt floor. Right next to
where her body fell.
Oleg lifted a small item in his left hand. “Something I’ve acquired
over my journeys,” he said. “A particularly spectacular find from a
Syrneth ruin.”
Ivette said nothing. All she could do was lie on the dirt floor,
writhing in pain. Oleg leaned over her, opening her shoulder
pouch. “Let us see what you have here,” he said, his hands fumbling
through it.
“Ah,” he said as he retrieved what he was looking for. A small,
silver item, much like a compass, but the facing was all wrong.
“Spasibo,” he said. “I dobroy nochi.”
Oleg pocketed the item, then stood and walked out of the hut.
Right into Berek’s fist.
166 John Wick

***

Hours before, just as the sun began to set, Elena stood with
Berek by the fountain in the center of town. And she looked at him.
He had many strands—including the one linked to her—but she
was looking for one in particular.
She raised a hand, gently pushing some of them from her view.
“You have many people looking for you,” she said.
“That sounds right,” he said. “Can you see the person I’m looking
for?”
Elena peered closer. After a moment or two, she found it. “Yes,”
she said. “I have it.” She turned toward the swamp on the south side
of town. “She’s down that direction.”
“Well then,” Berek said. “Let’s go find her.”
They walked together to the road leading out of town into
the swamp. They saw a lone woman walking along the road, then
leaving it, traveling west.
“That’s her,” Berek whispered. They hid behind a tree, keeping a
distance. Moving from tree to tree, following her through the swamp.
When she reached the hut, Berek said, “I’m going to take her out
the moment the door opens. Be ready.”
Elena nodded. She watched him move close, listening at the
door. Elena did as she was told, waiting behind the tree. When the
door opened, Berek threw a punch right about where the woman’s
head should have been. But instead of a woman, it was a man. A
much larger man.
Elena saw Berek look up, his hand a crumpled mess of fingers.
“Syngnómi,” Berek said, using Numanari. My apologies.
The large man just clobbered Berek over the head. At least, he
tried to. Berek dodged, ducking the big man’s reach. He fell back-
wards, right into the muck. The big man laughed, reached down and
 Daughter of Fate 167

picked Berek up, lifting him off his feet.

Berek swung another punch at the giant’s jaw. It connected with
a solid clunk and the giant laughed. Berek tried again. A third time.
The giant threw Berek against a tree, smashing the pirate nearly in
half as he sank down into the swamp.
“Merda,” Elena whispered.
She looked, found the strand between Berek and the giant,
and twisted.
The giant swung a punch, slipped in the muddy swamp water,
right at Berek’s feet. The pirate fell backwards, splashing in the mud
as well. Just as the big man was about to rise up, Berek grabbed a
large rock with both hands and slammed it across the giant’s face.
The giant paused…then fell face-first into the muck.
Berek stood, arching his back, holding it with his hand. Elena
stepped out from behind the tree. He saw her and tried to smile, but
only got as far as a wince.
“A little help would have been nice,” he said, his eyes shut tight,
biting his lower lip.
“I did help,” she said. “You just didn’t notice.”
Berek’s eyelids opened and he looked at her. “You did?”
“I did,” she said.
“Well, thanks for that.”
Elena said, “You never called out. He thought you were the only
one here. If he killed you, I would have remained hidden.”
Berek nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s about right.”
“Let us see about this mystery woman of yours.”
“No,” Berek said. “First let’s see what he’s got.” He limped, half-
hunched over, to where the giant fell.
“What about him?” Elena asked.
“If he was leaving…and she’s unconscious…” Berek gestured at
the hut where Ivette’s body lay. “That means he has what I—aha!”
168 John Wick

Berek pulled a small, silver object from the giant’s pocket. “I was
right!”
“What is it?” Elena asked.
“A very special compass,” Berek said. “Which will lead us to—”
He paused. Turned it over in his hand. “Wait here.”
He looked up at the hut and smiled.
They stepped into the hut and found her, lying on her stomach.
Berek turned her over.
“Is she dead?” Elena asked.
Berek shook his head. “No. But we’d better get her to a doctor.”
Elena nodded and grabbed her feet. “I’ll help,” she said.
Berek grabbed Ivette’s shoulders. “Come on,” he said. “We don’t
have a second to lose.”

***

When Ivette opened her eyes, she saw Berek and a woman she’d
never seen before. She was wearing sailor smocks, but looked like
she should have been wearing something much more expensive.
They were looking down at her. Her own head ached as if she’d been
drinking rum all night. Like that night with…
“Hola,” Berek said. “Remember me?”
Ivette tried to sit up, but her head wouldn’t allow it. So, she
stayed prone.
Berek said, “I think you owe me a favor, my dear. My darling.
My truest love.”
“I never called you ‘my truest love,’” Ivette said, holding her head.
“True,” Berek said. “But the other things.”
Ivette’s eyes blinked as she realized who she was with. Her hand
instinctively went for her hidden pocket, but Berek held up the silver
trinket.
 Daughter of Fate 169

The real one.

“It was hard to find,” he said. “That hidden pocket of yours. Very
clever. The Ussuran found the fake one. You archeologists always
wear coats with hidden pockets?”
“Only when we’re trying to hide things from pirates,” Ivette said.
“Where am I?”
The woman said, “You’re in a tavern. We had the doctor come
by to see you. He held something under your nose. That brought
you back.”
She winced again. “And Oleg?”
“Still out in the swamp for all we know,” Berek said.
Ivette shut her eyes and cursed.
“Hey!” Berek said. “We got the Syrneth artifact and the guilders.”
Ivette put a hand over her eyes. “I wasn’t there for either of those
things. I was there for Oleg.”
Berek and the woman looked at each other, confused. She asked,
“You were there for…?”
Ivette nodded, then regretted it. “Yes,” she said. “For Oleg. We’ve
been tracking him. Trying to catch him so we can…” She stopped.
Opened her eyes and lifted her hand away. Berek was smiling.
“Who’s ‘we?’” he asked.
She closed her eyes again and covered them with her arm. “I’m
not saying another word,” she said.
“Saved your life,” Berek told her. “Don’t forget that.”
“And I’m grateful. Now, would the two of you please leave me
alone?”
Berek looked at the woman. “She’s right. We should leave.” He
hoisted the large bag over his shoulder. “With all these guilders.”
Ivette heard them walking away and she sighed. “Wait!” she
shouted. She regretted that, too, following it up with a long,
“Oooooo…”
170 John Wick

Berek turned and walked back. “Yes?” he asked.

“Don’t take the compass,” she said. “Let me bring it back to the
Explorer’s Society.”
“Your little crew of archeologists?” Berek asked. “For what? So
you can put it in a glass case and show it off?”
Ivette shook her head. “No. To study it. To learn more about the
Syrneth.”
The woman said, “You were going to sell it!”
Ivette said, “No. I was using it as bait. To get Oleg’s attention!”
“And bring it back to the Society for study.”
Ivette shrugged. “Two birds with one stone,” she said.
“Sorry,” Berek said. “I’m afraid I have a much more useful plan
for our little artifact.” Berek put his hand on her cheek. “See you
when you’re feeling better, my truest love.”
Ivette heard them walking away, and despite the sting she knew
it would cause, she shouted, “I never called you my truest love!”
She heard Berek laugh as he closed the door behind him.
 Daughter of Fate 171

11
Standing on the deck of the Morning Star, Elena watched Berek
open the compass and look at its face.
“How does it work?” Elena asked.
“Most compasses point north,” Berek said. “This one points to
something else.”
“What does it point to?”
Berek looked away from the compass and toward Elena.
“Treasure.”
Elena felt her eyes widen. “What kind of treasure?”
Berek closed the compass and gave it to her. “This, mon petite
sorciére, is Carcosa’s Compass.”
Elena held it in her hands. It felt warm, as if it had sat by a fire.
“Carcosa?” she asked.
Behind her, she heard Griffin speak. “Captain Olivier Carcosa.”
Elena turned and looked at Griffin. “The wickedest pirate who ever
lived,” he said. Then, to Berek, “That’s Montaignoise. Not Vodacce.”
Berek looked confused. “Hm?”
“Mon petite sorciére,” he said. “That’s Montaignoise. Not Vodacce.”
Berek waved him off. “Whatever.”
Griffin looked back at Elena. “Carcosa was one of the first to find
the Seventh Sea. They say he came back a changed man.”
“He came back a man of vision!” Berek said. He made his eyes
wide and tilted his head. “And very…very…rich.”
Griffin continued. “They say he found a vast treasure in the
Seventh Sea. Brought it back with him. And hid it on an island
somewhere between Théah and the New World.”
Berek smiled. “That’s not exactly what happened.”
172 John Wick

Griffin looked at him. “How do you know?”

Berek paused for a moment. Then, Griffin said, “You got his log
book.”
Berek winked. “I got his log book.”
“Well?” Griffin asked. “What does it say?”
“It says you wait until the full moon. Then, you hold the compass
up.”
Elena asked, “And it shows you how to get to the island?”
Berek frowned. “No. It shows you how to get to the Seventh Sea.
And you take the Seventh Sea to the island.”
Veronica said, “Wait. Just wait.” She stepped up, standing next
to Griffin. “The Seventh Sea?” She almost laughed. “No. We’re not
taking our ship into the Seventh Sea.”
Berek turned, his foot on the prow of the ship, looking over his
shoulder. “Why not?”
Veronica said, “Because it drove Carcosa mad, that’s one reason.”
She put her hand on Griffin’s shoulder. “And because it’s… Nobody
knows what it is.” She squeezed. “Tell me you’re not thinking of
doing this.”
Berek walked across the deck toward them. “All the legends, all
the stories. You mean you don’t want to know if they’re true?”
“No,” Veronica said. “I don’t.”
Berek was smiling, his hand tight around the compass. “The
Seventh Sea. A space between spaces. A time between moments.
Where you can travel to anywhere or any time in the world.” His
smile broadened. “Tell me that doesn’t interest you.”
Elena said, “Any time?”
Berek looked at her. “Yes. Any time. Anywhere.” He shrugged.
“That’s what the legends say.”
In her mind, Elena remembered the night at the ball. The
black strand.
 Daughter of Fate 173

Any time. Anywhere.

“Yes,” she said. “Yes, I want to go.”
Veronica looked at her, eyes amazed. “What did you say?”
Elena repeated, “I want to go. I want… Yes. I’ll go.”
Berek nodded. “Right. I’ve got one. Anyone else?”
Griffin looked at Veronica. She shook her head. “If you go,” she
said, “I’m not going with you.” Griffin looked back at Berek, his eyes
saying what needed to be said.
“Well, then,” Berek said. “I have a first mate.” He walked to Elena
and stood beside her. “I’ll have a ship soon enough.”
“You’re mad,” Veronica said. She looked at Elena. “He’s going to
get you killed.”
Elena looked at Berek. The golden strand was still there. But she
remembered the black strand, binding them together. Perhaps this
moment was what summoned it. The moment she decided to go
with Berek into the Seventh Sea. And his vow changed that. Perhaps.
She turned back to Veronica. “No,” she said. “He isn’t.”
Elena went below and packed her things in a duffel. On the way
back up, she said goodbye to everyone. Deaf Henry hugged her so
hard, it hurt.
When she climbed the stairs to reach the deck, St. George was at
the top. She paused.
He looked down at her and said, “Well?”
She climbed the rest of the stairs and stood in front of him, the
top of her head just reaching his shoulders.
“You’re leaving,” he said in his distant thunder voice.
She nodded. “I am.”
St. George nodded. “Very well.”
Her eyes stung with tears and her breath got quick. She dropped
her duffle and ran forward, throwing her arms around him, the side
of her face against his chest. She felt his powerful arms reach around
174 John Wick

her shoulders.
He whispered, “I will miss you, Elena.”
“Nkosana,” she said. “How do I say ‘goodbye’ in your language?”
He shook his head. “There is no such word,” he said. “For it
means I shall never see you again. And I shall, one day.”
They let go of each other and Elena walked up on the deck.
Veronica shook her head. “I can’t believe you’re going with him.”
Elena stepped forward, taking Veronica by the hand. Together,
they walked away to the rail. She said, “Any time, anywhere. A
moment you could change in your life.”
“You don’t know that’s true,” Veronica said. “Nobody knows any-
thing about the Seventh Sea.”
“Even if it’s half true,” Elena said, “I want to try.”
Veronica shook her head. “Theus go with you,” she said and
kissed her. “I’ll miss you.”
Elena touched Veronica’s face. “I’ll miss you.”
The two of them returned, holding hands. “All right,” Veronica
said. “She’s going with you.” With her free hand, she pointed at
Berek. “If she goes crazy or dies…”
Berek nodded. “That’s fair,” he said.
Veronica and Elena squeezed hands, then broke their grip. Elena
embraced Griffin. “Keep yourself safe,” she said.
“I’ll be safer than you, little one,” Griffin said. “I have Veronica.
You’ve got Berek.”
She kissed his cheek and let him go.
She looked up, seeing Harry and Tamara. She waved. Tamara
shouted down, “I will not say goodbye. That would mean I will
never see you again!”
“Then say farewell!” Elena shouted up.
“I will see you soon, Elena Mondavi!” Tamara shouted down.
Just then, Long Tall Harry dropped down from the rigging. He
 Daughter of Fate 175

turned to Griffin. “With your permission, sir…I’d like to go with

them.”
Griffin looked confused. “Harry?” he asked.
He nodded. “Aye, sir. The Seventh Sea. I’d like to rig a ship that
sails those waters.”
Griffin smiled and nodded. “All right then,” he said.
Harry looked at Berek and Elena. “If you’ll have me,” he said.
Berek nodded. Elena smiled.
Harry ran down below decks and came back a moment later, his
duffle over his shoulder. “Ready!” he said.
Berek looked at Elena. “Ready to go?”
Elena looked at the Morning Star one more time. “Yes.”
They left the ship together, all three of them, dawn coming up in
the east, the seas calm, wind soft from the south. Halfway down the
street, Elena turned and looked one more time.
Her eyes stung with tears.
“Come on,” Berek said. “We have to get to her before she leaves.”
Elena turned her back on the Morning Star. “Get to who?”
she asked.
Berek smiled. “Ivette, of course.”
PART THREE

Explorer
 Daughter of Fate 179

T hey found her in a tavern, sitting with a group of sailors. She

was drunk and not at all friendly.
“Well,” she said, languishing on the word. “If it isn’t the pinche
idiota and his perra bruja.”
Berek made a tsk, tsk sound. “That is no way to speak to someone
who saved your life.”
Ivette spit at him. “Me cago en tu puta madre!”
Elena said, “I don’t know enough Castillian, but I think she’s
angry with us.”
Berek nodded. “Yes, it seems that’s the case.”
One of the sailors asked, “Are these two giving you troubles?”
Elena said, “Uh oh.”
Berek nodded. “We need to fix this.”
Ivette spat more angry Castillian and the sailors got up. Berek
reached into his coat and pulled out Carcosa’s compass, letting it
dangle by its silver fob.
“Espere!” she shouted.
“Help us and it’s yours,” Berek said.
Ivette sat for a moment. The sailors all looked at her. Then she
said, “All right. Joder!”
She pushed herself up from the table. Maybe it was because she
was flat on her face in a swamp hut before, but Elena got her first
good look at Ivette then. She was taller than Elena and heavier. Her
skin was darker, but her hair was just as black. She wore the same
heavy coat with a chemise, leather pants, and tall leather boots. Her
belt was unlike anything Elena had seen before, as if it was made
of pouches. And her coat was covered in pockets. She wore a pistol
180 John Wick

and a sword, both of which looked like they had been used many,
many times.
Right now, she could barely stand.
“What’s the deal?” she asked, adding about a dozen syllables.
Berek said, “We’re going to use it. You show us how, get us to
Carcosa’s island, and you can have it.”
“Mierda!” she said. “You’ve got some plan to keep it for yourself.”
Berek shook his head. “No. It’s yours. Honest.” He paused. “In
fact…”
He put the compass in her hand.
Ivette looked at Berek. Then she looked at Elena.
She squeezed her grip around the compass.
“You’ve got a ship?” Ivette asked.
Berek said, “The Black Dawn will be here in ten days.”
Ivette watched him, then took a step back. “I could leave before
then.”
Berek shook his head. “You won’t.” He turned and started
walking away. Confused, Elena followed him.
“What are you--?” she began asking him.
“Trust me,” he said.
When they reached the door, Ivette shouted after them, “You’ll
never see me again, Jeremiah Berek!”
He paused at the door. “See you in ten days,” he said.
 Daughter of Fate 181

2
The Black Dawn was almost the same size as the Morning Star. Her
rail was lower, closer to the water, which made her look smaller, but
she also had three sails rather than two.
“The third mast adds speed,” Berek said, stepping up beside
Elena on the docks. “The low railing makes her harder to target with
cannon fire.”
“Doesn’t that also make her easier to capsize in storms?”
Elena asked.
Berek smiled. “Only if you have a crew who doesn’t know what
they’re doing.” He walked up the gang plank. “Lucky for us…”
Elena walked up the gang plank to the rail. The ship felt dif-
ferent. She was used to touching the Morning Star, and the Black
Dawn felt…different. The planks under her feet. The texture of the
rails. She looked up at the rigging. She saw the lines and the sailors
working them. Different.
Someone called “Captain on deck!” and the crew stood at atten-
tion. Berek knelt down as a small dog ran up to him. Elena had never
seen a dog like this before. It was small and long with red fur and
the face of a wolf. Its ears were high and wide, its legs powerful and
short. He ruffled its ears and it ran back down the length of the ship.
“As you were,” Berek said. The crew went back to work.
Elena had never seen that on the Morning Star. Only on ATC
ships. Captain on deck.
She looked about the ship. The crew were in uniforms, like ATC
sailors, but the jackets were red. The men were well-groomed and
their buttons and shoes shined. They looked not at all like pirates.
Berek was speaking to a woman who had her back turned. She
182 John Wick

wore a wide brimmed hat with a feather plume. A purple corset over
a chemise.
A corset? How does she wear a bodice on a ship?
Elena stepped up. The woman turned.
And Elena felt her heart sink into her stomach.
Looking at the woman’s eyes was like looking into the sky. Her
skin was smooth and dark, her lips crimson. And her hair flowed
around her face and shoulders like black fire. Elena felt her knees
trembling. And a strange sensation, as if she had seen the woman
before in a dream.
“Elena,” Berek said, “this is Celedoine. My quartermaster.”
When the woman spoke, it was like a choir.
“Hello,” she said. “I am pleased to meet you.”
Elena’s lips trembled as she said, “Likewise.”
Celedoine moved, just a little. And Elena could hear stars
weeping. The quartermaster said, “I welcome you aboard the ship.
You will find the visitor’s cabin most comfortable.”
Elena blinked. “No. I. Uh. I. Have. Rigger. Yes. Rigger. I.”
Celedoine’s eyes turned from midnight skies into storms. Her
crimson lips curled. And Elena felt her heart turn cold. The woman
pushed passed Elena, shouting, “You there! What are you doing!”
And her voice sounded like swords.
Elena turned to watch her. She couldn’t help herself. The woman
was scolding a sailor who had dropped a bag, barley spilling all over
the deck.
She just watched. She couldn’t move.
A moment later, Berek put his hand on her shoulder. Elena jumped.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “Everyone has that reaction to Celedoine
when they first meet her. You’ll get used to it.”
Elena mumbled, “She’s…she’s…beautiful.”
“She,” Berek said.
 Daughter of Fate 183

Elena turned, confused. As if she had just awakened. “What did

you say?”
“I said, ‘Sidhe.’ Celedoine’s father was a knight from the faerie
court.”
“Oh,” Elena said. She didn’t understand any of the words.
“Come to the visitor’s quarters,” Berek said. “We’ll be launching
in less than an hour. And you should unpack.”
Elena followed him, but she couldn’t help but look over her
shoulder and watch Celedoine.

***

On the Morning Star, the crew ate in shifts, but together on

the deck, officers and sailors alike. On the Black Dawn, when the
dinner bell rang, five sailors converted the captain’s quarters into
an officer’s mess, moving panels about, putting down a large table.
Elena watched them moving about, carefully avoiding the small dog
sleeping in the corner of the room.
Elena sat at the table, remembering her etiquette training that
seemed like a lifetime ago. Silverware placed on either side of the
plate. Napkin, salad fork, dinner fork, plate, knife, spoon. Left
to right. A sailor filled her cup with wine. A glass cup. On a ship.
She looked at it like a smudge on a painting: something that just
didn’t belong.
Sitting on the other side of the table was Ivette. She looked at
the place setting with the same confusion. She glanced up at Elena.
Their gaze met. Both of them smiled.
“I thought you said we’d never see you again,” Elena said.
“I was wrong,” Ivette said.
Elena thought of Tamara’s farewell. “I know a woman who
believes saying such things makes them true.”
184 John Wick

Ivette said, “She was wrong, too.”

Berek stepped in, dressed for dinner. His jacket was red, his
sleeves properly sticking out at the wrists, his buttons shining. Even
his sword was in place.
“Gentles,” he said, standing handsome and dashing. “Let us eat.”
He sat down, but not at the head of the table. He sat on the right
hand side of the first place. Elena remembered, that was the place
where her eldest brother sat. The head of the table was empty.
The sailors brought in steaming plates. The scent made Elena’s
mouth water. They set them down on the table. Elena saw roasted
duck on one plate, roasted pig on another. On the third, a pile of
rice and beans.
“Eat well,” Berek said. “Once we’ve lost sight of port, it’ll be stan-
dard rations until we sight land.”
They ate well. Elena ate so well, she finished the wine. A sailor
refilled her cup. For a moment, she felt as if she were home again.
A proper meal. Servants tending to her. It reminded her of why she
was on this ship in the first place and her heart ached.
When the plates were empty, the sailors brought out pudding.
Elena almost clapped her hands. Berek noticed and said, “Never ate
this well on Griffin’s ship?”
Elena roped in her enthusiasm, recovering her calm demeanor.
“No,” she said.
Berek nodded. “The key to keeping a crew happy is keeping their
stomachs happy.”
Elena was about to ask the question, but Ivette asked first. “Does
all the crew eat this well?”
Berek nodded. “They do,” he said, raising a glass. “One and all.”
Elena asked, “Then why do the officers eat separately from the
sailors?”
Berek said, “It’s a good question. Because this is an Avalon ship.
 Daughter of Fate 185

And the second key to keeping a good crew is discipline.”

The other officers nodded and said, “Discipline.”
Elena watched Berek to see if his answer was sincere. He caught
her watching. “You disagree, Miss Mondavi?”
Elena said, “On the Morning Star, the crew all ate together. So
this is all very new to me.”
“Griffin is a bit more romantic than I am,” Berek said.
Ivette said, “I don’t know about that.”
The officers laughed. Berek allowed one of his crooked smiles.
Then, he said, “Every ship is different, Miss Mondavi. It has its own
rules, its own customs and traditions.”
Elena pointed her spoon and said, “Such as no-one sitting at the
head of the table?”
Berek’s smile blossomed. “Oh. You mean the captain’s chair.”
The officers nodded, as if they knew something.
Elena asked, “Aren’t you the captain?”
That’s when the entire room—except for Ivette—burst into
laughter. Berek took his glass into his hand and said, “Oh no, Miss
Mondavi. I am not. I’m only the first mate.”
Elena shook her head. “Then where is the captain?”
Berek gestured with his glass to the corner of the room. Elena
looked and saw the small dog the sailors were diligently trying to
avoid.
“That’s him,” Berek said. “Our captain.”
As soon as Berek said “Our captain,” the dog’s head popped up,
its ears erect.
“Captain!” Berek said, picking up the plate at the empty seat,
filling it with roast pig. “Your dinner is served, sir!”
The dog barked and jumped up, running toward the table. Berek
put the plate down on the table. The dog leaped up onto the chair,
then onto the table itself and began devouring the meat on the plate.
186 John Wick

The demeanor of society was shattered. Manners and etiquette

flew out the chamber window. The dog lapped up the meat and
the crew were all laughing. Elena couldn’t help but giggle, reflex-
ively putting her napkin over her mouth. Something she would have
never done on the Morning Star. Something she hadn’t done in two
years. She felt out-of-place again. Unsure how to act. The place set-
tings, the silverware, the propriety of it all… and this small dog on
the table, barking and making a mess while the officers laughed.
One of them started to sing.
Oh, have you heard the news? We’re on our way to sea!
The rest of the officers answered the call.
Hoorah! Hoorah! We’re on our way to sea!
Elena knew the song, but hesitated. She felt out of place. She
wanted to sing along, but this was a new ship. A different crew. And
she wasn’t working in the rigging, she was sleeping in the visitor’s
quarters. It was an odd mix of familiarity and strangeness.
She looked across the table at Ivette. She was slouched back in
her chair, wine in her hand. A smile on her face. She was watching
the officers sing. Watching Berek with a shine in her eyes.
 Daughter of Fate 187

3
Elena stepped out of the captain’s quarters and joined Ivette where
she stood on deck. Both of them had too much wine.
Ivette said, “Tell me about it.”
Elena asked, “Tell you about what?”
Ivette turned away from the sky and stars. She shivered. “Seeing
fate. What does it look like?”
Elena felt the cool night air on her skin and she wrapped her
arms around herself. “I… It’s difficult to explain. But if you imagine
a spider’s web made of light, that’s what it looks like.”
Ivette let that sink in for a moment. “How does it feel?”
Elena asked, “To touch it?”
Ivette nodded.
Elena said, “It’s delicate. And sharp. It feels like holding ice. It
hurts. And it can cut you if you aren’t careful.”
Ivette nodded again. “I have heard of the fate witches of Vodacce.”
She paused. “They are forbidden from learning how to read. Is it
true? Your parents forbid you from reading?”
Elena said, “I don’t like talking about that.”
“I’m sorry,” Ivette said.
A moment of silence passed. Ivette turned back to the sea. Then,
she said, “You mentioned that you were a rigger on another ship.”
Elena nodded. “I was,” she said. Then she asked, “What is the
Explorer’s Society?”
Ivette smiled. “Berek told you?”
“He said it was a club for bored nobles who have nothing to do.”
Ivette laughed. “It feels like that sometimes.”
Elena said, “What do you do?”
188 John Wick

“Look!” Ivette said. She pointed out to the sea.

Elena saw a water spout. She smiled. “Whales.”
“We’re in the Atabean Sea,” Ivette said. “Could be worse.”
Elena made a shush sound. “Don’t say it. Bad luck.”
“What’s that?”
Elena said, “It’s whales. It’s always whales. Saying anything else
is bad luck.”
Ivette nodded. “All right.” She laughed a little. “Sailors and their
superstitions.”
Elena waited a moment before she said, “You’re in love with him.”
Ivette turned to look at her. “What’s that?” she said.
“Berek,” Elena said. “You’re in love with him.”
“Use your witch sight to see that, did you?” Ivette asked.
“No,” Elena said. “I didn’t need to.”
Ivette shrugged. “It’ll pass. Always does.”
“He’s in love with the ship,” Elena said. “And the Queen. I think.”
Ivette nodded. “And himself.”
Elena laughed. “Yes. That, too.”
Wind picked up, the ship listed a little. Ivette held on to the rail.
“I hate sailing,” she said.
Elena said, “I love it.”
Ivette looked at her. “What about it?”
Elena smiled, thinking about her answer. “All of it,” she said.
“The wind. The sailors. The songs. Even the work.” She let go of
the rail with one hand and showed Ivette her palm. “Those are cal-
louses. From work. I earned them.” She put her hand back on the
rail. “When the bells ring, I know I’ve earned it. I worked hard. And
my work helped keep others safe.”
Ivette asked, “Doesn’t your sorcery do that?”
Elena looked away from the sea, looking into Ivette’s eyes. “No.”
After a long time, Elena asked, “What is the Seventh Sea?”
 Daughter of Fate 189

Ivette smiled. “I don’t know,” she said. “But I can tell you what
Alvara Aciniega thinks it is.”
“Who is that?” Elena asked.
“The smartest man in the world,” Ivette said. “A Castillian scholar
I had the opportunity to meet once. He believes the whole universe
sits on a sea of jewels that divides our world from another.” Ivette
looked at Elena and stopped. “I’ve already lost you.”
Elena nodded. “Try again,” she said.
“All right.” Ivette looked around for a moment, then went to
the water barrel. She scooped out some water with both hands and
returned to Elena. “Imagine a cork floating on the water.”
Elena nodded.
“Our world—in fact, all the planets—are floating on the top of
the water. Like a ship. But we can’t go under the water. We can only
sail on the surface.”
“We can’t go under the water?” Elena asked.
Ivette shook her head. “No. Only on the surface.” Then, she
raised her hands up to eye level. “The water is the Seventh Sea. In
order to enter it, we have to go under the water.”
“How will we breathe?” Elena asked.
Ivette drank the water from her hands. “We won’t need to.
Because it isn’t literally water. It’s…something else.”
“How do you know?” Elena asked.
“Because others have been there before,” Ivette said.
“If others have been there before, why don’t we know what it is?”
Ivette frowned. “Because none of them say the same thing. Some
of them say it is a place of peace, where you meet the Prophets.
Others say it is a living hell, full of demons.”
“Berek said it was…between time. Where you could go back and
change one thing.”
Ivette nodded. “The moment in a book where you turn the page.”
190 John Wick

She smiled. “I’ve heard that, too.”

Elena said, “Is that why you want to go?”
“To know for myself?” Ivette nodded. “Yes.” She leaned on the
rail. “It’s the whole point of life, isn’t it? To see things. To do things.
To have a story. To make your life a story.” She almost laughed. “The
Avalons have got that part right, don’t they?”
Elena heard Griffin say something similar. On a night like this,
on the deck of the Morning Star, he said, “I want my life to be
a story.” That moment stayed with Elena ever since. Now, hearing
Ivette say the same thing, she thought of Berek back at the table,
drinking and singing with the other officers.
I want my life to be a story.
Elena nodded. “Yes,” she said. “They do.”
Berek came out of the cabin, a mug in his hand, songs at his back.
He saw the two of them and said, “Admiring the night sky?”
“We have stood too close to the sun for too long, Berek,” Ivette
said. “We needed some time with the moon.”
He took a mocking bow. “Well said, señora, well said.” Berek
took a drink from his mug and asked, “Have you made any sense of
Carcosa’s compass?”
She shook her head. “It holds few clues. I need his logbook.”
Berek nodded. “That, my lady, is where we are headed now.”
Elena’s brow furrowed. “You told Griffin you had the log book.”
“I believe I said, ‘I got his log book.’” He took another drink. “I
don’t have it anymore. It was stolen from me—as was the compass—
but from someone of a very different temperament than our lovely
Ivette, here.”
“Can’t you keep hold of anything?” Elena said.
Berek gestured to Ivette. “As present company evidences, the
answer is ‘no.’”
Elena felt Ivette’s reaction beside her, but she said nothing.
 Daughter of Fate 191

“All right,” Ivette said. “Where is the log book?”

“It is currently in the possession of the Atabean Trading Company,”
he said. “A certain fellow by the name of Halsten Jördisson.”
Again, Elena felt Ivette’s reaction. “Jördisson?”
Berek nodded. “Aye. He took it from me.” He gestured with
his mug again. “After you turned me in.” He sipped from the mug,
laughing a little. “So, part of this is your fault.”
Ivette cursed in Castillian.
Elena asked, “Where is Jördisson now?”
“Vestenmennavenjar,” Berek said. “And that is where we’re
headed.”
192 John Wick

4
Halsten Jördisson walked down the snow-covered streets of Kirk, a
cane in his gloved hand, his heavy fur coat and capotain hat keeping
him warm. He could have taken a carriage, but he enjoyed long
walks down the street, especially when the sun was just about to set.
The crisp air and exercise, he felt, were the key to his health. He did
not need the cane for injury, but for the sword hidden within it. Kirk
was one of the safest cities in Théah, but there was no reason to go
walking alone without protection. And he could use the sword. It
wasn’t just for show. He practiced four times a week with a trainer.
He was not an incapable man.
Jördisson stood taller than most men: a trait he inherited from
his mother who also stood taller than most men. He wore his mous-
tache with waxed curls and his chin was a braid of whiskers. He had
ice blue eyes under a blonde brow.
He saw the uniformed law enforcement standing on the corner.
He tipped his hat to her, calling her by name. “Dagmar.”
She nodded and touched the tip of her hat to him.
The city paid for their service. Another example of how Kirk was
the most forward thinking cities in not only Vestenmennavenjar, but
the entire world.
Jördisson was on his way from his offices where he oversaw the
ATC’s “Nautical Loss” division. He hired mercenaries to hunt down
and capture pirates. Since the loss of La Bucca, the ATC engaged a
number of investors in starting “work plantations” where the crim-
inals could serve their time producing rather than stealing. They
helped the ATC bring tobacco and maize to Théah. Valuable crops.
Yes, it was a dear expense, but the cost was more than made up for
 Daughter of Fate 193

by the loss they would be taking without any action at all. And he
was proud of his work. Investments such as his allowed the flow of
commerce which gave the country capital which allowed children to
attend schools and paid for Dagmar on the corner there to look after
and maintain law and order.
There were others on the street as well. He wasn’t alone. But at
this time of day, he could expect to walk freely without too much
interruption. Only a few out so near dark. So when he saw a figure
walking toward him, a wide-brimmed hat on her head, her lips a
flower of crimson on a pale face, she caught his eye.
And when he looked at her, he stopped.
She continued walking. Her glance catching his for just
a moment.
Jördisson turned to watch her walk away. He decided to follow
her. His pace picked up as he moved quickly through the thin
layer of snow, almost oblivious to the chance he might slip and fall.
Which he did.
Twice.
When he caught up with the woman, he said, “God kveld.”
She kept walking, but turned her face to him. “Halo,” she said.
“Hvordan gar det?”
He smiled. “I am very well, thank you.” His feet were stumbling
to keep up with her pace. “I do not think I have seen you before.”
“No,” she said. “I am new here.”
“I can tell by your accent,” he said. “Inish, perhaps?”
The woman smiled. “Perhaps,” she said.
“Labhraím Inish,” he said. “If that would be useful.”
“No,” she said. “Let us use your language. I can use the practice.”
He laughed. “Very well. Let us do that.” He looked in the direc-
tion she was walking. “Where are you going, if I may ask?”
“It is very cold,” she said. “I am looking for a place to warm
194 John Wick

myself and get something to eat.”

Jördisson said, “Oh, I know just the place!” He pointed up ahead.
“I know the owner. He is a friend of mine.”
She smiled at him and his knees nearly failed. “That will do,” she
said. “Will they serve mead?”
Jördisson said, “I can arrange for it, yes.”
“I’ve never had mead before,” she told him. “I would like to try it.”
“Then try it you shall!” he said.
They continued on, through the snow. Jördisson kept talking
and she replied as she saw fit.

***

Jördisson woke with a bucket of ice water in the face. His wrists
and shoulders hurt.
He blinked his eyes, looking for vision. When he found it, he
saw where he was. In a small room, bound to a chair in his small
clothes. He had no idea how he got there or what happened to him.
But he knew who the man holding the bucket was, and he said his
name like speaking a curse.
“Berek.”
The pirate smiled and nodded. “That’s me,” he said. He put the
bucket down and knelt before the chair. “Hello, Halsten. It’s been
a while.”
“Why aren’t you on a planation in the Atabean?” Jördisson asked.
“Just lucky, I guess,” Berek said. “But here we are. You and me
again. Except this time, the roles seem to be reversed.”
Jördisson struggled against the ropes, but they stayed taut. He
tried to stand in the chair, but the wood was too strong. He looked
at Berek—and spit at him.
Berek closed his eyes, produced a handkerchief, and wiped his
 Daughter of Fate 195

face. “That’s no way to treat an old friend,” he said.

“Let me loose and I’ll show you the proper way to treat an ‘old
friend!’”
Berek shook his head. “No, no,” he said. “I don’t think so. But
I do think you are going to tell me where you’ve put Carcosa’s log
book.”
Jördisson glared at him. “Never in a thousand years.”
Berek nodded, softly. Closed his eyes. Took a deep breath. “Very
well,” he said as he stood.
“What’s next, Berek?” Jördisson said. “Torture? That fits a pirate.”
Berek said, “No, no. Nothing so vulgar.” He walked to a door
and knocked on it, standing aside. Jördisson watched as the door
handle turned.
“I’ll never tell you anything, pirate! I’ll never—”
The door slowly opened and a woman in a black dress stood in
the doorway, a black veil hiding her face.
Jördisson’s eyes opened wide.
She stepped into the room as silent as a ghost, hands folded in
front of her.
Jördisson looked at Berek. “Wh-what? You expect me to
believe…”
The soft sounds of her dress. Her heeled shoes on the wooden floor.
“It’s a trick,” Jördisson said. “One of your damned tricks, you
Avalon scum!”
Berek didn’t say anything. He leaned against the wall, smiling.
The woman came closer. Close enough to reach out and touch
him. Then, closer. The tips of her shoes touching his toes.
Without turning, she said, “Qual’é il suo nome?”
Berek’s smile broadened as he pulled Jördisson’s wallet from
inside his jacket pocket. He opened it. Found a piece of paper. He
read it out loud. “His name is Halsten Áketill Jördisson.”
196 John Wick

The woman in the black veil leaned close to his face. She whis-
pered through the veil.
“Halsten…”
Jördisson’s eyes went wide.
“Áketill…”
His lips trembled as he murmured, “…Nei.”
“Jördisson.”
Then, she leaned in. Close enough to kiss him.
“I’ll tell you!” he screamed, trying to turn his face away. “I’ll tell
you! Stop her! Please stop her!”
The woman paused. From under her veil, he could see her
crimson lips curl into a smile. “Grazie, signore,” she said. Then, she
turned on her heel and walked out of the room.

***

Outside the room, after the door closed behind her, Elena took
the veil off and looked at Celedoine. She was leaning against the cap-
tain’s table, arms crossed. She raised an eyebrow. “Well?” she asked.
Elena held out her hand. “Ten guilders,” she said.
Celedoine handed over the bills. But she was smiling.
Elena said, “Can you get this corset off me?”
Celedoine nodded and walked behind her, untying the knots.
As the corset came undone, Elena gasped. “I’d forgotten how those
things feel,” she said. “I don’t know how you wear them.”
“I don’t,” Celedoine said.
Celedoine helped Elena slip the corset over her shoulders. Elena
asked, “You don’t? I don’t understand.”
Celedoine said, “You see a corset. I don’t wear one.”
Elena was confused. She asked, “How do I see something that
is not there?”
 Daughter of Fate 197

“Glamour,” Celedoine said.

Elena turned, looking at Celedoine. Again, she felt her belly
twitch, her breath catch in her throat. And standing this close
to her…
Elena wanted to say something, but instead she asked, “What is
glamour?”
“It is the enchantment of Avalon,” Celedoine said, putting the
corset down. Elena watched her move, every part of her a grace-
ful dance.
“It’s illusion?” Elena asked.
“No,” Celedoine said. “It many things, but it is not illusion.” She
sat on the bench next to the corset. “My glamour is desire. Others
see what they desire.”
Elena looked at her again. She felt her eyes shifting focus. The
familiarity she always felt when looking at Celedoine, as if she had
seen her somewhere before. And then, she realized where. Her
mouth opened wide and her hand slapped over her mouth.
“I look like someone you love,” Celedoine said. “But were afraid
to tell.”
Her eyes still wide, Elena stood frozen.
Celedoine said, “Or someone you did not know you loved.”
Slowly, Elena nodded. From under her hand, she whispered,
“Yes.”
Celedoine said, “So it is. Men and women do not see me for who
I am, but who they want me to be.”
Elena stood still for a moment, unsure what to say. Then, she
said, “Everyone sees you as someone they love.”
“Or desire,” Celedoine said.
“Sometimes, it’s the same thing,” Elena said. She asked, “What
if…they desire a man?”
“They see the elements they desire,” Celedoine said.
198 John Wick

“Even though you’re a woman?”

Celedoine nodded. “Even though I’m a woman.”
The door opened and Berek stepped through. “I’ve got it,” he
said. “I know where the log is.”
Celedoine said, “Then, let’s get it.”
“Get dressed,” Berek said to Elena. “We’re nearly there.”
She pointed at Jördisson in the other room, still tied to the chair.
“What do we do with him?”
“I’ll let him go after we get the log book,” Berek said. “It’s in his
home, in a safe. I have the combination.”
“What if he lied?” Elena asked.
“He didn’t,” Berek answered. Before Elena could ask, he said, “Yes,
I’m sure.” He leaned in closer. “I told him if he was lying to me,
you’d kiss him.”
 Daughter of Fate 199

5
Under a full moon, in the middle of the Trade Sea, at approximately
47° N, 28° W, Berek stood at the wheel of the Black Dawn and
opened Carcosa’s compass.
Elena stood beside Harry. With his arms crossed, Harry said, “I
have a bad feeling about this.”
Elena looked up at him. She stood just to the middle of his chest.
His thin beard and long hair waved in the gentle wind. She said,
“Treasure on the other side.”
“Aye,” Harry said. “But what’s the risk? You’ve got to measure the
risk with the reward.” He looked down at her. “That’s what gunners
do, ya know. Every shot they take, it’s a moment-to-moment evalu-
ation. They ask themselves, ‘Will this shot hit?’”
“Calculation,” Elena said.
“Aye,” Harry said. “Calculation. Aerodynamics is a factor. So is
gravity and wind speed. Ever since Arciniega gave us Fundamentals,
it’s been easier.”
“What’s that?” Elena asked.
Harry startled, as if he had said something wrong. “Oh,” he said.
“Nothing. Just a…pamphlet…that I…uh…heard about… Some
people…talking… You know.”
That was the second time someone mentioned “Arciniega.” She
was about to ask more when Berek said, “It’s time.”
Harry went straight up, grabbing a line and climbing quickly up
the rigging. Celedoine stepped up next to Berek, putting a hand on
his shoulder. In that moment, Elena felt very alone.
A wind picked up. Cold. Colder than the winds of the Trade Sea.
Cold enough to bite through the skin, right down to the bone. Elena
200 John Wick

put her arms around her shoulders and stamped her feet. She heard
other sailors doing the same thing.
Ivette came out of the visitor’s cabin. “What is that?” she asked,
instantly shivering.
“It’s happening,” Elena said.
Ivette looked up at the wheel and saw Berek standing there,
Celedoine at his side. She looked at Elena. Her eyes were wide, but
not with fear. She was smiling.
“See you on the other side,” she said. As she did, her words faded
into echoes. Her body seemed to be blown apart by a wall of snow
and stars. And Elena found herself standing alone in a world of
white and silver.
She was still cold, but there was no sound. Just stars and snow.
She turned, looking for someone, but no one was there. She tried
saying, “Hello!” but nothing came from her lips but warm mist. She
clapped her hands and stomped her feet.
No sound. Nothing.
She turned again and she was in her father’s home, standing by
the fire. Her breath was still frost.
“Hello?” she asked, and when she heard her voice, she jumped
and made a small sound.
“Buongiorno,” said a familiar voice.
Elena turned and saw her Nana standing in the doorway. Clad in
black, her veil over her face. Small cane in her spindly fingers.
“Elena,” she said. “It is good to see you.”
“Wh-where…”
She said, “Where you belong.”
Elena shook her head. “No,” she said. “I…I belong where I
choose to belong.”
“The sailors taught you that, did they?” Nana laughed and walked
forward, her trembling hand on her cane, her tiny steps. “This is
 Daughter of Fate 201

where you belong now,” she said.

Elena looked about her. The furniture. The small couch. The
leather chair. The head of the elk Father killed and mounted. It was
all here. Every detail washing back into her memory.
“No, Nana,” she said. “I’m…” She stopped. “I’m not home. I’m
on the Seventh Sea.”
“You are in the Seventh Sea,” Nana said. She was close now, reach-
ing out with her unoccupied hand and touching Elena’s face.
“Nana,” Elena said. “You are dead. I was at your funeral.”
“Who said I’m your Nana?” she replied.
Elena took a step away. “N-not my…”
The woman under the veil laughed. A cackle. “So easily startled,”
she said. “You always were.”
Elena turned to run. She reached the door to the patio, but it
was locked. She turned back and the woman in the veil was there—
right there—blocking her way.
Elena reached for her sword. It wasn’t there. She wasn’t in her
sailor smocks, she was in her black dress, black corset. The veil over
her face. She screamed. The woman in the veil screamed. Elena
pushed by her to run for the other door, but as she did, she stum-
bled and fell.
And she heard music.
She saw the marble floor. Smelled the food. Saw dresses and
tall boots.
“Oh no,” she said.
“No?” the veiled woman asked. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”
Elena looked up. Yes. The woman was right. Exactly right.
She got to her feet. All around her, men and women, dancing to
the music. Elena rubbed her eyes. No, the vision did not go away.
“Am I…?” she asked.
The veiled woman said, “Yes. But no one can hear us or see us.”
202 John Wick

She giggled. A horrible, wet sound. “Even you.”

The woman pointed and Elena followed with her eyes. And
there she was. Standing alone against a wall. The dress. Watch-
ing everything.
Looking.
“I can stop it,” Elena said.
“She cannot hear or see you,” the veiled woman said. “All you can
do is watch it happen again.”
Elena shook her head. “This isn’t real. This is…glamour. Like
Celedoine told me. I’m seeing what I desire.”
“The Seventh Sea is not glamour, child,” the veiled woman said.
“It has its own rules. Like your sorte.”
Elena looked at the veiled woman. “Who are you?”
The veiled woman said, “I am as you see me.”
“Do not give me riddles instead of answers,” Elena said. “Who
are you?”
The veiled woman said, “I am here, in the Seventh Sea, with you.
But soon, you will leave, and I will remain behind.”
Elena felt her brow furrow. “Leave?” she asked.
“Yes,” she said. “The althevex your Captain uses is taking you
through the Seventh Sea. Soon, you will exit, and this moment will
be lost.”
“Althevex… You mean the compass?”
“As you call it,” the veiled woman said. “But time is short. And
you are losing your opportunity.”
Elena looked at her younger self. Then, she heard a voice, shout-
ing from another part of the room.
“Buonasera!” the woman shouted.
The orchestra stopped.
“Now the party can truly begin!”
Elena felt her heart pounding against her chest. She turned to
 Daughter of Fate 203

the veiled woman.

“I want to stop it,” she said.
The veiled woman nodded. “I know.”
She watched the courtesan move across the room, a rainbow
peacock among black and red clouds. Without looking at the veiled
woman she said, “Tell me how to stop it.”
“I don’t know if you can,” the veiled woman said. “Or if you
should.”
Elena shook her head. “What does that mean?”
“Changing a thing may lead to an outcome even more dire than
the first.”
Elena heard the words, but wasn’t listening. “Let me change it!”
“What difference will it make?” the veiled woman said. “The
burning ship…”
Elena shouted, “At least Ignazio will be whole! And maybe he
can defend them. Maybe…”
The veiled woman raised a thin, ashen, veined hand. “I can,” she
said. “But you must make me a promise.”
“Yes!” Elena said, her voice full of panic. Watching her brothers
begin their argument.
“Promise to take me with you when you leave the Seventh Sea.”
“I pr…” Elena stopped. Looked at the veiled woman. “What?”
“Promise to take me with you when you leave the Seventh Sea.”
Ignazio shouted, “She is nothing! A whore!”
The crowd gasped.
Elena stared at the veiled woman. From under the veil, she
thought she saw something…twitch.
Then…Elena looked.
And she saw nothing. No Arcana. No strands. Nothing.
Felice shoved his brother. “Nothing? She is Rosina de Falisci! The
greatest courtesan in all of Vodacce! And you call her a whore?”
204 John Wick

Elena looked back at the scene. Saw herself begin to panic. Saw
herself look and see the black strand…
“The moment is almost upon us,” the veiled woman said. “And
when it passes, it will be too late.”
Nobody was moving. The black strand twirling and knotting,
growing tighter, thicker.
Ignazio curled his hand into a fist and threw it into his brother’s
jaw.
Elena nodded. “Yes,” she said. “I promise.”
“Say the words,” the veiled woman said.
“I promise…you can leave the Seventh Sea with me when I go.”
The veiled woman smiled. “You may say what you like,” she said.
A flash.
Elena, standing next to her younger self. Just a breath away. Saw
her shout, “Ignazio!”
She knew the moment. Had seen it a thousand times in her
dreams. She had time for a single warning. Just one.
Elena said, “Don’t pull the strand.”
She saw her younger self turn to her. Look straight through her.
Confused. As if she had heard her own voice.
And the memory of that moment rushed back to her. The fear.
The panic. The confusion.
The voice.
And Elena watched as Elena…pulled.

***

She was on the deck of the Black Dawn. On her back, looking up
at the night sky. All black. No stars, no moon.
Then slowly, one by one, the stars winked to life. Like candles lit
in the darkness. And just above her, like a lantern, the moon faded
 Daughter of Fate 205

in, its silver glow wan at first, but then, ever brighter.
Elena realized she could not feel her legs or arms, toes or fingers.
But then, they tingled. A burning sensation. She tried to move her
arm and it ripped pain through her shoulder, down her side, all the
way down to her fingers. She tried to speak, but all she could muster
was a whisper.
Then, a voice. “You have done well,” it said.
Elena focused her vision. Turned her head. And floating just
above her, the veiled woman.
She couldn’t speak. She also realized the woman was speaking
inside her head. It was not sound, but thought.
You lied to me, Elena told her.
“I did no such thing,” the veiled woman said. “I told you only
the truth.”
I changed nothing, Elena told her.
“But you did,” the veiled woman said. “You changed one small
thing. You will learn one day what it was you changed.” She almost
sighed. “I shall be leaving now. You will never see me again.”
Listen to me, Elena said. My people have a word. An old word. And
before you leave, I want you to hear it.
The veiled woman spoke with mocking amusement, “Go on.”
Through the burning, prickling pain, Elena raised her arm. Her
fingers limply pointed at the veiled woman. Her eyes blazing with
anger. Elena told her,
Vendetta.
The veiled woman laughed. “Pray we never meet again, Elena
Mondavi.” Then she flew away into the newborn stars.
Elena remained there, slowly regaining her strength, the veiled
woman’s laughter ringing in her ears. When most of the stars were in
place, she finally found the strength to turn her head. She saw Ivette
there. Her eyes were open and looking at Elena. Blinking.
206 John Wick

Elena tried to speak, her voice refusing. She tried a smile. It trem-
bled to her lips.
Ivette did not smile. A tear rolled from her eye across her nose.
Then her eyes shut and she turned her face away. Elena heard
her sobbing.
She reached out with her hand and found Ivette’s shoulder. A
moment later, Elena felt Ivette’s fingers on her own.
 Daughter of Fate 207

6
Daylight. The crew moving about the deck, but slowly.
She saw Berek sitting near the wheel. He had a mug in his hand,
drinking. His eyes were distant. Nearly blank. He breathed heavy.
Elena walked toward the forecastle, but Celedoine stepped in her
way. “No,” she said. Elena continued walking. Celedoine put her
hand on Elena’s shoulder, and again said, “No.”
“Take your hand off me,” Elena said.
“Do you believe you were the only one?” Celedoine asked.
Elena shook her head. “No. He put us all through it.”
“We all knew what we were doing,” Celedoine said. “None of us
are victims.”
“No,” Elena said. “None of us knew.” She looked up at Berek.
“Especially him.” She looked back at Celedoine. “And that’s the crime.
No captain leads his crew into a situation he doesn’t understand.”
“You are wrong,” Celedoine said. “That’s exactly what a captain
does.”
Elena lowered her eyes at Celedoine, her hand touching her
sword. “Get out of my way, demone.”
“Land ho!” someone shouted.
The crew rushed past the two women, but they did not move.
They remained fixed on each other. Over Celedoine’s shoulder, Elena
saw Berek stand, mug in his grip, looking forward.
Elena’s voice dropped to a growl. “I said get out of…”
“The demon was the thing that tempted you, not me,” Celedoine
said. “You rage against Berek because you cannot exact your hatred
against it.”
Elena felt her eyes stinging. She blinked and a tear rolled down
208 John Wick

her cheek. “Do not try to charm me. I’ve had enough of that.”
“You feel the rage of revenge in your heart for the first time,” Cele-
doine said. “I can feel it.” Celedoine put her hand against Elena’s
chest. Her touch made Elena’s mouth open, her breath quicken. Her
fingers tightened on her sword.
Celedoine said, “Revenge is a dangerous desire. The desire to
destroy.” Her voice softened. “It will destroy you as well.”
Elena’s tears ran freely. Celedoine’s hand on her breast… The
veiled woman’s mocking laughter… Ignazio’s face…
Elena’s hand trembled on her sword and she collapsed into Cele-
doine’s arms.
“I couldn’t save him,” she said. “I tried… I couldn’t…” The rest
was moans and gasping.
Celedoine wrapped her arms around Elena, holding her. “I
know,” she said. Elena’s body trembled in her embrace, her head on
Celedoine’s shoulder.
“I wanted to kill Berek,” Elena said.
“I felt it,” Celedoine told her.
“I made an oath,” Elena said, speaking into Celedoine’s shoulder.
“I said I would never kill again.” She gasped. “And I wanted to kill
him. Wanted it like I’ve never wanted anything.”
Celedoine put her hand on Elena’s head. “It’s over,” she said.
“That rage is passing. As all rages do. The Vestenmennavenjar call it a
hate. A rage you cannot control. An angry spirit that takes possession
of your senses and drives you to evil.”
Elena nodded. “I couldn’t stop it.”
“You did stop it,” Celedoine said. “You did.”
Elena raised her head, looking at Celedoine. And all she could
see was Veronica.

***
 Daughter of Fate 209

“Carcosa’s Island,” Berek said, peering through his spyglass.

“Looks to be about half a mile long. Maybe a little wider than that.”
Elena stepped up to the rail. “May I use your glass?” she asked.
Berek took it away from his eye. “Certainly,” he said, and gave it
to her. She wiped her eye dry with her sleeve and looked.
An island. Tall trees. Sand. Some coral. She saw nothing moving
but swaying tree limbs.
“Do you know where we are?” she asked.
Berek shook his head. “Carcosa’s log says we’re south and east of
the Crescent Empire, halfway to Cathay. When night falls, we’ll get
a look at the stars. See if that helps us.”
She gave back the spyglass. “Epainō,” she said, using the Numanari.
“You’re welcome.” He watched her walk away, then said, “Elena?”
She stopped and turned, but stayed where she was. Elena
watched him looking for something to say.
Finally, he said, “It was harder than I expected.”
She nodded. “Yes. But we made it through.”
“There’s another thing,” Berek said. “Something you should
know.”
She tilted her head. “Yes?”
“Carcosa’s log says the treasure is in a…temple of some kind. At
least, that’s what he called it.”
That caught Ivette’s attention. “A temple?” she asked.
Berek nodded. “Guarded with traps.”
Ivette said, “A Syrneth temple?”
He looked at her. “That’s what the log says.”
Elena stepped closer. “You said there was something I should
know.”
“The final trap,” Berek said, “can only be undone by…a daughter
of fate.”
Elena’s eyes narrowed. “A what?”
210 John Wick

“A daughter of fate,” he said again. “So, we’re going to need you

on the island.”
Elena’s voice turned sharp. “Bastardo. You knew.”
Ivette said, “What? What did he know?”
“You knew you needed me,” Elena said. “That’s why you were so
interested in getting me to come along.”
Berek put his spyglass away. “I did,” he said.
Elena rushed up, throwing her fist against his jaw. Berek did
not try to duck or dodge. Her hand slammed into his jawbone,
sending him against the rail of the ship. Ivette rushed forward, grab-
bing Elena.
“You deserved that!” Elena said.
Berek nodded, holding his jaw. “I did,” he agreed.
“You deserve worse!” Elena said.
Berek stood back up, putting his hands to his side. “Do you want
to give me another one?”
“Stop it, Elena,” Ivette said. “Stop it.”
One of Berek’s marines stepped up, but Berek waved him away.
“Striking an officer is a serious offense on this ship,” he said. “But, as
you said, I deserved it.”
Elena stopped struggling against Ivette’s grip. “Let me go,” she
said. Ivette released her.
Berek said, “We’ve done what few have ever done. We’ve sailed
the Seventh Sea. And here we are, at Carcosa’s Isle. A legendary trea-
sure just waiting for us to take it.” He looked at Ivette. “And ancient
secrets for us to discover.”
“Treasure,” Elena said. “Is that all you want? Gold? Jewels? Is that
all?”
Berek shook his head. “Wealth is a means to an end,” he said.
“What I want is to protect my Queen. Gold and jewels provide
wealth. Wealth buys soldiers and ships. It pays for spies and sabotage
 Daughter of Fate 211

of the Queen’s enemies.”

“And it brings you glory,” Elena said. “Isn’t that what you’re really
after?”
Berek said, “I serve Queen Elaine. Any glory I gain is for her.”
Elena’s eyes narrowed. And she looked at him.
She saw the golden strand that still bound them together. But
she saw another. Reaching far, far away. She focused on it, seeing the
twisting threads.
Berek said, “What are you doing?”
She unfocused her gaze and looked at him. “You love only one
woman in all the world, Jeremiah Berek,” she said. “And the great
tragedy of your life is not that you’ve broken the heart of every
woman who would ever love you.” Elena paused, glaring into Berek’s
eyes. “The tragedy is that she will never love you in return.”
Elena walked away, leaving Berek at the rail. She saw Celedoine.
Elena paused as she walked by her. “One woman,” she said, looking
into Celedoine’s eyes.
Celedoine gasped, as if Elena had looked into her soul and
plucked out a secret.
“And her name is Elaine.” Then, she kept walking, back to the
visitor’s cabin. She shut the door behind her.
212 John Wick

7
When the dinghy neared the shore, Elena jumped knee deep into
the water, grabbing the side of it, pulling it onto the land with the
others. She had not spoken a word to Berek since she closed the door.
He had the log book in his hand, looking at a page with a hand-
drawn map. “Looks like we’re on this side of the island,” he said to
Ivette, pointing at the map.
She nodded. “Agreed. There looks to be some sort of path over
there,” she said, pointing into the forest.
“That may be this line here,” Berek said, pointing at the map.
Ivette smiled. “Let’s find out.”
There were only three of them—Berek, Ivette, Elena. Celedoine
stayed on board. The crew was still uncertain about what happened
on the Seventh Sea, and Berek felt they needed some measure of
command. “Otherwise, they may just decide to leave.”
They followed the thin path through the woods. It twisted
around a great stone, then went further into the island. And then, in
a clearing of trees, they saw it.
A ruined statue. The feet, the legs, part of the torso. But no upper
body. It stood twice as tall as a human. Stone feet bound in stone
leather. Vines covered it. Deep cracks in the thighs and ankles. It
looked as if it could crumble at any moment.
“That’s it,” Berek said. “The entrance.”
Ivette approached it just behind Berek, but quickly moved in
front of him. “It’s not a temple,” she said, coming closer. “A temple
would be above ground. Reaching up for the skies. Unless this was a
temple to a subterranean god. A death god.”
Elena shook her head. “A death god?”
 Daughter of Fate 213

Ivette turned. She had an excited smile on her face, her eyes flash-
ing. “Yes,” she said. “The statue is a guardian.” She pulled a notepad
from her jacket, a pen quickly appearing between her fingers. “We’ve
seen this before.”
Elena was about to ask, “Who is ‘we’?” when Berek shouted, “I
found the stairs!”
Berek used his sword to cut away at the overgrowth. And there,
under the green, was a stairway. Stone steps leading down into dark-
ness. Elena looked at them, each one almost half as tall as her.
“That’s not stone,” Ivette said.
Berek turned to look at her. “What do you mean?”
Ivette knelt down, gently putting a finger on the first stair. “It’s
not stone,” she said. “It’s cold. And…the texture is wrong.” She
looked up. “It’s almost like a dry sponge.”
Berek asked, “What did the journal say about the stairs?”
Ivette stood and took the journal from her coat. Elena wondered
just how many pockets Ivette’s coat had. Ivette turned to a folded
page. “If it’s like the other ruins we’ve found, the stairs are trapped.
There’s a code you need to know to get down them safely.”
Elena asked, “Why is that?”
Ivette shook her head. “We don’t know. Perhaps these were
mystery cults and the traps kept out the uninitiated.” Ivette winked
at Elena. “That’s my theory.”
“The stairs have symbols,” Berek said.
Ivette and Elena stepped over, looking down. Ivette said, “Yes! I’ve
seen these before!” She reached into her coat and took out another
small notebook. She flipped through the pages, all crammed with
notes. “When we were at the D’Auberville ruins. Same symbols.”
Elena asked, “Can you translate them?”
Ivette gave a frown-smile. “Not…exactly,” she said. “Although,
combined with Carcosa’s log, I may be able to figure something out.”
214 John Wick

“May?” Berek asked.

“Give me a tick,” Ivette said. She put both books down on the
jungle floor, pages open. Her eyes scanning back and forth. “Seems
they’re using these five symbols,” she said, pointing at them, “as indi-
cators for which steps are safe and which are not.”
Berek looked around, grabbed a tree limb and cut it off with
his sword. Then, he walked to the stairs and depressed one of them.
A hissing sound. A pop. And blades like those of a Montaigne
guillotine slashed out from the wall and below the stair, slicing the
tree limb in half.
“Well,” Berek said. “There’s that.”
Ivette ripped a page from her book and handed it to Berek.
“These are the symbols you should avoid,” she said. “There are com-
binations, so make sure you watch your step.”
Berek looked at the page, then he told Elena, “Light the lantern.”
She did. And together, with Ivette’s pages in hand, they began
descending the stairs.
The air stank. Fetid, stale, and rotten. Elena put a handkerchief
over her mouth and nose. “What is that?” she asked.
Berek pointed down the stairs at a lump of flies. “That,” he said.
Elena looked and saw half a dead body lying across the steps. Just
below, the other half.
She gasped and hid her eyes.
“Mind the light!” Berek whispered.
Ivette said, “We’re going to need to get around that… mess.”
Berek nodded. “I know. It won’t be easy.”
Without looking, Elena said, “Kick it down.”
Berek and Ivette looked at her. Berek asked, “What did you say?”
“Kick it down,” she said. “It will set off the trapped stairs.”
Ivette asked, “What if it sets off all the trapped stairs?”
“One way to find out,” Berek said. And he kicked the rotting
 Daughter of Fate 215

corpse. It tumbled down the stairway, hitting steps here and there.
A hiss. A pop. The razor slicing through the rotting flesh. Insects
scrambling. Elena could not look. Eventually, they heard the body
stop.
“Good idea,” Berek said. “Now we know how far we are from the
bottom.”
They continued down, keeping their footing safe, one step at a
time. Elena kept her arms out, trying to maintain her balance. Once,
she almost slipped and fell, but Berek caught her.
“Careful,” he said.
“I am being careful,” she told him. “But thank you.”
He nodded. And they kept going.
They reached the bottom, where the remains of the corpse
waited for them. Elena did her best to slide around it, keeping her
face turned away.
The stairway landed in a large, empty space. Elena’s lantern was
not bright enough to reach the walls. The floor was the same sub-
stance, wet and slippery.
Berek said, “We need to find the ‘doorway of the moon.’ What-
ever that means.”
Ivette asked Elena, “Can you see the strand linking us to the
treasure?”
Elena shook her head. “Strands only link people. Not things.”
Ivette reached into her coat and took out what looked like a small
wand. She turned the tip of it and a bright beam of light sparkled to
life. Ivette saw Berek and Elena looking at the device. She shrugged.
“I found it on an island near…” She paused. Smiled. “Never mind.”
“How many pockets do you have in that coat?” Elena asked.
“I lose count,” Ivette said. “But they’re all full.”
With Elena’s lantern and Ivette’s…whatever that was, the three of
them moved about the room.
216 John Wick

“Eight…no, nine walls,” Ivette said.

Berek said, “A door in each wall. Symbol above each door.”
Elena looked at the walls and doors. Each made of the same
material as the floor. Not stone. Something else. She raised a hand to
touch the door, but Ivette grabbed her wrist and pulled it back. “No,”
she said. “Remember the traps.”
Elena nodded. She felt stupid. Of course, the traps. She followed
Ivette, throwing the light of the lantern over her shoulder.
“We need the symbol for the moon,” Ivette said. She was looking
at the doors and her notebook. “I’m not sure which one that is.”
From across the room, Berek asked, “Doesn’t the log say which
one it is?”
Ivette said, “No. Unfortunately, it does not. Although, Captain
Carcosa said they marked the door themselves. So, keep an eye out
for that.”
They looked a little further. Finally, Elena shouted, “There! Look!”
She pointed at a cross carved into the wall. “Is that Carcosa’s mark?”
Berek walked from another wall, getting close to it. “That’s Car-
cosa’s mark, all right,” he said. “This must be the moon door.”
“Wait a tic before we open it,” Ivette said and scribbled the sign
down in her notebook. “All right. Got it.” She looked at Elena. “Let’s
open it.”
Elena looked at the door and said, “How? There’s no handle or
lock.”
They looked at the door. Then, Ivette reached up to the symbol.
“Perhaps like this,” she said, pressing against it.
The symbol slid into the strange stone and the door slid into
the floor.
Ivette smiled. “Like that,” she said.
As the door slid down, Elena saw a bright light shining in her
eyes. Ivette shouted, “Duck!” and Elena felt someone push her away
 Daughter of Fate 217

from the door to her back, her shoulders smashing against the stone.
There was a rush of hot air. Powerful enough to feel like the
naked sun on a clear summer day. Elena blinked and saw Berek on
top of her. His head was turned away from her.
Behind him, Ivette lay on the other side of the doorway. Her eyes
were wide open, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath.
Elena saw a gush of flames erupting through the doorway.
Berek turned back to her. “That was close,” he said. He lifted
himself up and offered her his hand. Elena took it.
“Thank you,” she said.
“We’ll have to assume everything is a trap,” he said.
“Including the treasure?” she asked.
Berek nodded, his eyes dour. “Including the treasure.”
The flames subsided. Ivette got to her feet and joined them by
the door.
“I saw that one before,” she said. “In the Tamarasa ruins. Nearly
got me then, too.”
Elena asked, “This is what you do? Dodge traps and explore
ruins?”
Ivette nodded and smiled. “And then write it all down.”
“This is archeology?” Elena asked.
Ivette grinned. “This is archeology.” She peeked around the
doorway. “Looks like mirrors on the other side,” she said. “Set to
detect a disturbance of light. We triggered it and the flames came
through.”
“Can you disarm it?” Elena asked.
Ivette nodded. “If it’s the same as the Tamarasa ruins,” she said.
Then, she winked. “Though, it might not be.”
“Let’s be careful until we’re sure,” Berek said.
Ivette put away her light wand. Elena dropped the lid over the
lantern, only allowing the smallest amount of light. The three of
218 John Wick

them slipped through the entrance.

***

Ivette stood in front of a stone podium full of jewels. She touched

a red jewel, then a blue one. Finally, she touched the green jewel.
“That should do it,” she said.
Berek said, “I suppose if we take one of these fine prizes,” ges-
turing at the jewels, “it will bring the whole place down around our
heads.”
“That’s what happened to the Acquarone expedition,” Ivette said.
Berek frowned. “Well, there’s that.”
Elena asked, “How did you learn to do this?”
Ivette said, “An old explorer named San Andrés,” she said. “He
wrote three volumes on Syrneth traps. He and this other fellow…
Zahn Grimm or something. I forget.”
“You’ve disabled all the traps?” Berek asked.
“Yes,” Ivette said. “At least, I think so.”
He nodded. “All right then. Let’s get to the treasure.”
They walked deeper into the earth, the corridors seemingly
angled downward. They passed rooms with symbols Elena was start-
ing to recognize. Finally, they came to a long corridor. At the end
was a sealed door.
“That’s it,” Ivette said. “If I’m reading the symbols right.”
They walked toward it, still wary. But no traps had sprung since
the jeweled panel. They reached the door. Ivette looked again at
the symbols. She pointed at the carved mark next to the symbols.
“There it is again. Carcosa’s mark.”
“Let’s open it,” Berek said.
Ivette reached up and depressed the symbol. The door slid down
into the floor and Elena looked at an open room, empty save for a
 Daughter of Fate 219

pedestal at the far end and a wooden chest on the pedestal. A chest
large enough to carry a human body. Two of them, if you stacked
them on top of each other. The lid was closed and Elena saw an old
lock on the latch.
“This is it,” Berek said. “The treasure room.”
Elena asked, “Why does this room scare me?”
Ivette said, “All the traps should be deactivated.” She paused,
then looked at Elena. “But you’re right.”
Berek asked for Carcosa’s log. He opened it, thumbing through
the pages. Finally, he stopped on one. “Here,” he said, then quoted
from the log. “I have left the treasure in a web only a daughter of fate
can see.” Berek looked at Elena.
She scowled.
Berek gave the log book back to Ivette. “You keep talking as if
I’m the only one who has a share in all this.”
“Money,” Elena said. “That isn’t enough.”
Berek nodded. “Name your price.”
Elena said, “A favor, Jeremiah Berek. Promise me a favor.”
“What kind of favor?” he asked.
“You don’t get to know that until I ask for it.”
Berek said, “All right. A favor.”
“Promise it,” Elena said.
Berek looked at Ivette. “What are the consequences of breaking
a promise you make to a fate witch?”
Ivette said, “You don’t want to know.”
Elena said, “Promise it.”
Finally, Berek said, “I promise. I owe you a favor.”
Elena said, “Very well. Let’s get to work.”
Berek stepped away. Elena looked at Ivette. Both of them could
barely contain their smiles.
220 John Wick

***

Elena stepped forward, moving beyond them to the edge of the

doorway. Then, she looked.
The strands appeared to her like a great web, crisscrossing the
room. It was like a giant web. A web she did not understand.
“This doesn’t make sense,” she said. “There are strands here.”
Ivette said, “I thought strands only link people.”
Elena nodded. “Yes. Only people. Not things. I…” She looked
deeper. She gasped.
“Black strands,” she whispered. “The room is full of black strands.”
Like slices of moonless midnight, hanging from the walls and
ceiling, reaching throughout the room. Shimmering with violet.
Elena looked at Ivette. “You can’t go in there,” she said.
Confused, Ivette asked, “What is a black strand?”
Elena said, “Death. Black strands mean death.” She gestured at
the room. “It’s full of them. Like a room full of cobwebs.”
“The treasure is on the other side,” Berek said. “Locked in a web
only a daughter of fate can see.” He nodded. “If you can see it, you
can get by it.”
“You don’t understand,” Elena said. “Legion’s eyes, I don’t under-
stand.” She pointed at the room. “What is in there, it isn’t supposed
to exist. I don’t know what will happen if one of those strands
touches us. Even if I do get to the other side, the chest is locked. And
I’ll have to carry it back. Through the strands!”
Berek said, “Just get to the other side. We’ll see what happens
then.”
Ivette said, “Maybe Elena doesn’t need to get to the other side.”
Both of them looked at her. Berek asked, “What do you mean?”
Ivette said, “Elena, can you…pull the strands? Lift them out of
our way?”
 Daughter of Fate 221

Elena shook her head. “I cannot pull black strands. Nobody can.”
Berek put his hand on his chin. Knelt down. Looked at the floor.
Looked at the walls.
“I’m not going in there,” Elena said. “And neither are you.” Her
gaze shifted from Ivette to Berek. “Either of you. I don’t care how
lucky you think you are.”
Berek stood and looked at Elena. “Is there a path?”
Elena didn’t know what to say. “A what?”
“A path. Through the web.” He gestured at the room. “They got
the treasure in there somehow and they planned on getting it back
out somehow, so there must be a path.”
Elena glared at him. She turned back at the room. And looked.
“No,” she said. “I don’t see one.”
“Step in as far as you can,” Berek said. “Without touching a
strand.”
Elena felt the anger in her belly. Her fingers shook. She stepped
forward. Another step. Almost into the room. The strands dangled
and wavered, like a soft wind lifting them.
She reached the inside of the door.
And there, in the midst of the tangled skein, hidden by the
angle, was a wide path. An empty walkway leading to the left edge
of the room.
Elena couldn’t help but smile. “Yes,” she said. Then almost
shouted. “Yes! There’s a path! Right here! I couldn’t see it from the
door! I had to step inside!”
She turned to see Berek and Ivette smiling. “Daughter of fate,”
Berek said.

***

Elena’s skin was covered in sweat, a pain behind her eyes. She
222 John Wick

had never looked for so long. The pain stabbed at her skull and she
blinked away tears. They had moved slowly through the maze of
strands, Elena leading them every step. But it felt like someone was
sharpening knives behind her eyes. And when she stumbled, Berek
caught her, keeping her from falling into the strands.
“We should stop,” Berek said, holding her.
She shook her head. “We’re almost there,” she said. “Just…help
me.”
Berek put her arm over his shoulder and helped her walk. She
was moving in slow, tiny steps. Her vision blurry. She blinked, trying
to maintain her concentration.
One more corner, she thought.
She lead Ivette and Berek around the last turn. And she
almost collapsed.
“There,” she said, pointing at the chest. “We’re clear of the strands.”
She closed her eyes and kept them shut. “Let me…just rest here.”
Berek asked, “Are you sure?”
Elena nodded. “Just…walk forward. Do not step off the…
raised…” She closed her eyes, her voice fading.
Berek took three steps, the last on the raised platform. The chest
was at his feet. He looked at the lock. Then he drew his pistol, turned
his face away, and shot the lock. Elena smelled the gunpowder, heard
the metal lock snap. She opened her eyes. Saw Berek open the chest.
Coins. Gold coins. Avalon pounds. Vodacce senators. Castillian
pieces of eight. Coins.
Elena smiled. Then she fell to her side. And darkness.

***

On the deck of the Black Dawn, Berek opened the chest. The
crew looked at the gold and cheered.
 Daughter of Fate 223

“God save the Queen!” someone shouted. The rest of the sailors
shouted it back.
Elena sat with her back against the rail, watching the sailors dig
through the coins. They were laughing. Pouring gold over each other.
The coins falling on the deck sounded like golden rain.
From the celebration, Ivette walked to her, carrying a bottle of
wine. She sat down beside Elena and offered her a cup. Elena took
it and sipped the wine.
“Avalon wine is awful,” Elena said.
Ivette nodded. “It certainly is.”
Elena watched Berek stand before the chest. He raised both
hands and the crew fell silent.
“Here you are, my lads and lassies,” he said. “Enough gold to send
all of us home with ne’er a need to work another day in our lives!”
The crew cheered.
Berek said, “You braved ATC hunters and the monsters of the
Atabean! You sailed the Seventh Sea! And you lived to tell the tale!
Go home to your sweethearts, husbands, and wives! And make lots
of babies!”
The crew laughed. One of them shouted, “I’ve already got three!”
Berek shouted back at him, “Make three more!” He threw some
gold at him. “You can afford thirty!”
More cheers and Berek laughed, putting his hands on his hips.
“Some of you have sailed with me for years. Some a few months.
But this here, this is the greatest haul we’ve ever found.”
Berek paused, eyeing all of them.
“The greatest so far!” he shouted.
They cheered and Berek laughed.
“Let us go home and make revelry! We’ll drink and sing and shout
and dance until the Queen herself will need to come down to the
tavern to command us to be silent!”
224 John Wick

Long Tall Harry said, “And then we’ll ask her to dance with us!”
The crew cheered and Berek said, “Aye! With tiny squids in our
mouths!”
They started singing. A song about going home. Elena smiled. “I
love this,” she said.
Ivette said, “I can see why.” She emptied her cup and filled it
again. Then she asked, “Why did you come along?”
Elena took another sip of wine and made a sour face. She said,
“To fix something I broke.” She looked at Ivette. “Why did you?”
Ivette smiled, almost laughed. “Seeing the Seventh Sea.” Then,
she did laugh. “That is a tongue twister, isn’t it?” She took another
sip of wine. “Exploring ruins. It’s what I do. What I’ve always done.”
“Why?” Elena asked.
Ivette gestured with her cup at the sailors. “Why do you love
this?” she asked. “Rotten food. Seasickness. Weather. Pirate hunters.
The sun beating down on you all day.” She looked at Elena. “Why
would anyone love this?”
Elena took the bottle from Ivette and filled her cup. “Camarade-
rie,” she said. “I know I could trust each of these men and women
with my life.”
“It’s a hard life,” Ivette said. “Working all day long. Tearing up
your hands, baking your skin.”
Elena nodded. “The work is hard. The trust is worth it.” She
emptied her cup, refilled it. Took another sip. “At home, back in
Vodacce, trust is more rare than gold. And twice as valuable.”
“From what I hear of Vodacce,” Ivette said, “trust will get you
killed.”
Elena nodded. “That, too. But you didn’t tell me why you do
your exploring thing.” She nudged Ivette’s shoulder with her own. “I
come from Vodacce. I can tell when someone is evading a question.”
Ivette smiled and ducked her head. “My brother did it,” she said.
 Daughter of Fate 225

“I almost never saw him. But when he came home, he told me about
his adventures. Discovering ruins, looting treasures. Learning about
the Syrneth.” Those last words caught in her throat.
Elena asked, “How did he die?”
Ivette looked at Elena, her eyes moist. “You really are a witch,
aren’t you?” she asked, trying to smile.
Elena shook her head. “I heard it in your voice.”
Ivette said, “He was in Ifri. Somewhere in the south. He was
with the Arnessen expedition.” She sniffed, wiping her nose. “He
didn’t come back.” She wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “Doctor
Arnessen gave me his coat.”
Elena put her arm around Ivette. Ivette put her head on
Elena’s shoulder.
“Every time I come back alive,” Ivette said, “I wonder…if I was
with him…”
Elena remembered watching herself at the dance. Whispering.
And watching it all happen again.
“I couldn’t save my brother,” Elena said. “I tried.”
Ivette took Elena’s hand and squeezed it. She nodded. “Me, too.”
The sailors kept on singing. Elena just held on to Ivette and
didn’t let her go.
PART FOUR

Spy
 Daughter of Fate 229

E lena shivered on the deck of the Black Dawn, looking at the

grey sky full of clouds. She wrapped her heavy fur cloak tight
around her. She could feel her teeth chattering. Mist from her lips.
Berek stepped up beside her, holding two steaming mugs.
“Mulled wine,” he said, offering her one. Elena took it and sipped the
heat. Berek said, “Do not wrap the cloak tightly around you. Let it
fall loose. Your body makes heat under the cloak and warms the air.”
She nodded and let go of the cloak, allowing it to fall around her.
“I’ve never been so cold,” Elena said.
Berek smiled. “Welcome to the top half of the world.”
Elena looked up, saw sailors knocking frost, ice, and snow from
the rigging and yard arms. She watched them push the ice across
the deck.
“How can anyone live like this?” she asked.
“It’s only this cold most of the year.” Berek laughed. “But it gives
us an excuse to drink mulled spiced wine.” He smiled. “Avalon wine
tastes better when it is hot.”
Elena sipped from her cup, feeling the wine warm her body.
“That is true,” she agreed.
“Also,” Berek said, “cold nights call for warm company.”
She looked at him. “Is that an invitation, Captain?”
Berek smiled. “I will miss you when you’re gone, Miss Mondavi.”
He raised his mug. “Let us drink to goodbyes.”
Elena smiled, slowly shaking her head. She touched her mug
to his. “I have yet to hear you answer a question with an answer,
Captain Berek.”
“Live in the land of the Sidhe long enough,” Berek said, “and
230 John Wick

you’ll learn the value of such a skill.”

“I was born and raised in Vodacce, sir,” Elena said. “Such a skill is
a necessity for young men and women.”
Long Tall Harry called out from above, “Land ho!”
Elena looked to the prow, seeing only mists. A moment later,
they parted and she saw a castle on green shores. Green shores
covered with silver fog.
She looked at Berek. “How can it be winter and still be green?”
Berek smiled. “Welcome to Avalon, Miss Mondavi.”

***

The carriage took them through the streets and Elena watched
from the window. She was no longer cold, though she should have
been. The air was cool, but the sun warmed her skin. She wore a
dress she bought when the Morning Star was docked in Castille.
Blue and gold, well-fitted. Berek smiled and nodded when she came
out of the visitor’s cabin. “Don’t you shine up like a pretty pence,”
he said.
“Captain Berek,” Elena told him, “I may be a sailor, but I am also
the daughter of a Vodacce nobleman.”
Berek didn’t miss a beat. He bowed low, took her hand, and
kissed it gently. “And I may be a pirate, but I am also a knight and a
gentleman of the Queen’s court.”
“I would have never known until this very moment,” Elena said.
From the carriage, she watched the merchants and farmers go
by. The people of Avalon looked happy, as if they could break into
song at any moment. Elena had seen the people of Montaigne and
Castille. Their spirits were not like this. Soaring. She couldn’t help
but feel their joy fill her own heart.
And she smiled. She laughed, covering her lips with her fingers.
 Daughter of Fate 231

Berek returned her smile and filled his pipe.

“What is this?” Elena asked. “Why do I feel…?”
“Avalon is under an enchantment,” Berek told her. “Like
Celedoine.”
“Is it…” Elena almost said illusion, but stopped. “What kind of
sorcery?”
“It is not sorcery,” Berek said. “But it is magic. So long as the
Queen holds the Graal, the land thrives. If she does not, the land
suffers.” He finished lighting his pipe. “As it did before Elaine took
the throne.”
Elena looked at Berek, hearing his words, and her heart filled
with joy. She wanted to sing. To dance. Berek’s blue eyes flashed out
at her.
“It is as if all of Avalon is under a glamour,” she said.
Berek nodded, puffing his pipe. “It is,” he said.

***

Carleon Castle looked impossible.

Its walls shone like silver in the sunlight, reaching so high, the
towers seemed to scrape the sky. Elena walked under its shadow
always looking up. The carriage rode through the gates into the
courtyard and she saw men and women—all of them beautiful—
watch them arrive.
As soon as Berek stepped from the carriage, the people cheered
his name. He held out his hand to Elena and she took it, stepping
from the carriage.
“How does everyone know you?” Elena said. “You’re a pirate.”
“I’m the Queen’s pirate,” he said. “That makes all the difference.”
They walked inside. Elena saw entertainers of every kind. Jug-
glers, dancers, musicians, all rehearsing. She watched a man make
232 John Wick

an egg disappear then reappear in his mouth. She laughed. “Why

are they here?” she asked.
“Entertainment for Her Majesty,” Berek said.
Elena realized what was happening. “I’m going to meet the
Queen?” she asked, her voice catching in her throat.
“You’re going to meet the Queen,” he said, smiling.
Elena stopped moving. “No,” she said. “You told me we were
going to meet someone who could tell me how you changed the
black strand.”
Berek took her hand. “We are,” he said. “We’re going to meet
the Queen.”
Elena pulled her hand away. “What trick is this?” she asked.
“Berek, the Trickster.” She stood still, refusing to move. “You said a
man named ‘Derwyddon.’”
“Derwyddon is the Queen’s advisor and magician,” he said. “To
speak to him, we must speak to the Queen.”
Elena shook her head. “No,” she said. “This is part of one of your
plans.”
Berek smiled. “I assure you. This is the end of my plan.”
A fire breather belched flame behind Berek. Elena refused
to move.
Berek sighed. “The truth?” he asked.
Elena nodded. “I can tell if you’re lying.” She pointed at her eyes.
“Remember that.”
He smiled. “Very well then.” He took her hand again, gently.
“You have provided a great treasure to Avalon,” he said. “And put
yourself at great risk in doing so. For that, you deserve the truth.”
“Go on,” Elena said.
“Derwyddon knew you were coming,” he said. “He foresaw it.
He wasn’t sure how it would happen, but he knew it would happen.”
Elena eyed him. “How do you know?”
 Daughter of Fate 233

“He told me before I left port.” Berek took another step toward
her. “He said I would meet a witch, that she would help me find Car-
cosa’s treasure, and that I should bring her back here after I found it.”
Elena felt her stomach drop. “A man,” she said, stumbling
through the words, “who can see the future?”
Berek shook his head. “Not exactly,” he said. “He’s already lived
it.”
“I don’t…” Elena began.
“He lives backwards,” Berek told her. “To him, the future is the
past and the past is the future. He knows what will be, but does not
know what has been.” Berek shrugged. “At least, that’s what I’ve
heard.”
Elena felt Berek’s grip on her hand. Her trembling hand.
“I have no desire to meet such a man,” she said.
Berek said, “He is the one who can tell you how I changed the
strand.”
She paused, looking at Berek. A long moment passed.
Finally, she said, “Very well.”
Berek patted her trembling hand. “Don’t worry,” he said. “Der-
wyddon is only terrifying the first time you meet him.”
“After that?” Elena asked.
Berek said, “He’s only frightening.”

***

The herald called out, “Captain Jeremiah Berek and his compan-
ion, Miss Mondavi!”
Berek whispered, “Stay by my side. And curtsey when she speaks
to you.”
Elena growled with an annoyed whisper, “I know what to do.”
“Good,” Berek said. “The last woman I introduced to the Queen
234 John Wick

didn’t. And that was not a happy day, I’ll tell you that for nothing.”
“What happened?” Elena whispered.
“It involved a rose,” he said. “And I should say no more.”
Elena smiled at him. “There is something Berek should not do?”
He sighed. “Later.”
They entered the court, music playing. Elena looked about, seeing
men and women in leathers and silks of all colors. It reminded her
of the party in Vodacce. They all looked at her. Not at Berek, but at
her. She put on her courtly face. Quiet, composed, and unimpressed.
Then, she looked forward.
The throne was beautiful. Gold and wood. Hand-carved. Large
enough for two. Plush red pillows in the seat.
And the throne was empty.
Standing beside it was a man. Tall with long limbs. His black
hair was thin and made a widow’s peak above his piercing, dark eyes.
His beard was cut into a point and he wore all black. On the top of
his head was a scholar’s cap, also black. Elena noticed he carried no
sword, but only a long dagger.
Berek bowed. Elena curtseyed. The man standing beside the
throne said, “Welcome home, Captain.” His voice was deep and
soft. “You may recover.”
“Thank you, Master Foote,” Berek said. “I am sad the Queen is
not here to receive me.”
“Who is your companion today?” the man asked.
Berek said, “A woman the Queen is eager to meet.”
Master Foote turned to Elena. She curtseyed again and said, “My
name is Elena Mondavi. And I am Her Majesty’s humble servant.”
Foote stepped down from the throne and toward them. He took
Elena’s hand and kissed it. “I am Sir William Foote. Her Majesty’s
secretary of state and advisor.” He looked down at Elena. “We have
been waiting for you, Miss Mondavi.”
 Daughter of Fate 235

Foote turned to look at Berek. “Her Majesty is indisposed today.

But I have arranged for your stay. Please allow my boy to escort you
to your chambers.”
A young man stepped up, also dressed in black. Elena noticed
the boy wore a pin of a golden bee. Foote wore the same pin.
Berek said, “Of course!” And Elena detected the smallest hint of
confusion in his voice. “We’d be happy to stay for the night.”
Foote smiled and nodded. “Very good.” He looked at Elena. “I
have prepared two rooms. One for you and one for the Captain.”
Elena could not help but smile. “Very thoughtful, sir,” she said.
Foote said, “The Captain’s reputation proceeds him.”
The court allowed itself a quiet laugh. Berek shrugged, smiling.
“But who is this?” a voice said, coming from the crowd. Elena
turned and saw a man dressed in violet velvets. He wore a wide-
brimmed hat with an enormous plume and carried a gilded sword
on his hip.
“Ah,” Foote said, turning slightly. “The Montaigne ambassador.”
“Bien sur, it is the Montaigne ambassador!” the man said. He
stepped forward, removed his hat, and bowed deeply. “Please allow
me to introduce myself. I am the Vicount Beauchene, Jean Marie
Archambault du Charouse, ambassador to His Majesty, Roi du
Monde.”
Elena felt her eyes narrow. “The King of the World?” she asked.
“Oui,” Archambault said. “And I must say, I have never seen a
woman so vibrant and exquisite as yourself.” He turned to Berek and
Foote. “Save for Her Majesty, of course.” He put fingers to his lips
and pursed them, making a kiss. “The most beautiful flower in all
the world.” He turned back to Elena. “I sincerely hope you do not
mind, mon Cherie.”
Elena couldn’t help but smile. “I do not mind being compared to
a Queen,” she said. Then, to Berek and Foote, with the same vigor as
236 John Wick

Archambault, “If I must be lesser to any woman, let it be the Queen

of Avalon.”
The court laughed out loud and Berek smiled. Almost proud.
Archambault said, “A woman of wit as well as beauty!” He turned
to the court. “Is there any skill this woman does not have?”
Elena said, “I see you have a sword.”
The court stopped. Archambault turned slowly. “Have you chal-
lenged me to a duel, mon Cherie?”
“J’ai fait,” Elena said. I did.
Berek stepped in. “I think this has…”
Elena cut him off. “Will you loan me your sword, Captain?”
she asked.
Berek smiled and nodded. He withdrew the sword from its
sheath, and holding it in both hands, kissed the blade. “With my
blessing,” he said.
“But Mademoiselle, how will you fight in that dress?” Archam-
bault asked.
Elena bent over and lifted the hem, tying the skirt around her
hip. The court gasped.
She winked at the Montaigne ambassador. “Like this,” she
said. She took Berek’s sword in her hand. “Danseras-tu avec moi?”
she asked.
Archambault laughed out loud. “With unrebated blades! With
naked legs!” He drew his sword. Readied himself in position. Then,
he snapped his feet together and put his blade in both hands.
“Mademoiselle,” he said. “I surrender to your beauty, your wit,
and your daring. Such a woman I hoped to find in Avalon, and here
I find her!”
Elena bowed. “I accept your surrender, monsieur,” she said and
handed the blade back to Berek.
Archambault put his own blade away and bowed again. “Perhaps,
 Daughter of Fate 237

sometime, you may accompany me back to Montaigne. It would be

a great honor.”
Elena undid the knot on her hip, letting the skirt fall back down
her naked legs. “Monsieur,” she said, “l’honneur serait tout á moi.”
Foote stepped forward. “To your rooms now, I think.”
Berek nodded, exasperated. “Aye.”
Elena said, “Yes. I could use a rest after our journey.” But she
watched the Montaigne ambassador. As she left the room, he bowed
again, hat in hand.

***

The food was boiled meat and cabbage. Fortunately, they pro-
vided her with pepper. Elena did her best with it. The wine was too
weak, almost water. At least they did not give her beer.
The room was spacious and the bed was comfortable. She nearly
sank into it when she finally laid down. After the day, she was
exhausted. She fell to sleep almost immediately.
A woman’s voice awoke her. A woman’s voice speaking her name.
Elena opened her eyes and saw a face. A woman’s face. It was long
and pretty, far from delicate. Her eyes were stern and her lips small
and almost cruel.
Elena blinked, wiped her eyes. “Yes?” she asked.
“Elena Mondavi?” the woman asked her.
“Yes,” Elena said. “What… Is something…?”
“Come,” the woman said. “Sit with me.”
The woman walked to a table and sat on the other side. Elena
saw she wore a simple black dress. Elena got out of bed, grabbing
the dressing robe that was left for her. She wrapped it around her
shoulders and tied it off at the waist. She walked to the table and
stood beside it.
238 John Wick

The woman sat tall. Her waist was longer. Elena noticed the
woman’s frame looked more like a boy’s than a woman’s. Her hips
were slender and her breasts small.
Elena looked at the table. In the center was a deck of cards.
“What is this?” Elena asked, still half-asleep.
“I hear you are a sorte strega,” the woman said. “I would like to
hear my fortune.”
Elena blinked again, wiping the sleep from her eyes. She shook
her head. “I’m sorry. I’m… I’m not sure…”
Foote stepped from the shadows then. He said nothing.
Elena looked at him. Then looked at the woman. And her heart
pounded. She fell to her knees so hard, pain shot through the bone.
“Your Majesty!”
The woman said, “Sir William…”
Foote stepped forward, standing in front of Elena. “Recover,
Miss Mondavi,” he said, offering her a hand.
Elena put her hand in his, still keeping her eyes to the floor.
Foote led her to the chair. She sat, keeping her eyes on the table.
The woman said, “Please. I wish to hear my fortune.”
Elena’s eyes were fixed on the table. But slowly, she raised her
gaze, looking at the woman on the other side.
And Elena looked.
She saw nothing. No Arcana. Only a strand to Foote. A strand
of obedience.
Elena paused, considering what to do. She remembered St.
George on the Morning Star, his sword swinging as he she told him
the Code.
This is a test, she thought.
Elena swallowed and said, “You are not the Queen.”
The woman looked confused, then angry. “How dare you…”
Foote put a hand on the woman’s shoulder. She looked up and
 Daughter of Fate 239

he nodded. She stood from the table and went to the door. She
opened it and another woman entered.
Elena could not look at her.
Her Arcana shone so bright, she had to look away. Elena imme-
diately stood, then dropped to her knees again.
“Recover,” the Queen said. Her voice like a chorus.
Elena stood, but kept her gaze low.
The Queen wore the same black dress, but did not wear it the
same way. When she moved, it was with a powerful grace and
confidence.
She stood by the table. “Sit with us,” she said.
Elena got to her feet and waited. The moment after the Queen
sat, she did as well.
“Does it pain you to look at us?” the Queen asked.
Elena nodded. “For my eyes, it is difficult.”
“We have seen this before,” the Queen said. “You are not the first
witch to visit our court.”
Elena nodded. “Yes. Of course.”
The Queen paused, then spoke in Elena’s language. “Why did
you leave home, Miss Mondavi?”
Hearing the Vodacce tongue somehow calmed her heart. She
replied, “I was kidnapped.”
The Queen nodded, her chin the only part of her face in Elena’s
vision. “We know,” she said. “It was Sir William who ordered your
abduction.”
Elena’s gaze shot to Foote. “What?” she asked.
Foote said, “Under order of the Queen, I arranged your
abduction.”
Elena shook her head. “Why?”
Foote said, “Because I have no agents in Vodacce. They die
quickly.”
240 John Wick

Elena said, “No, I mean why did you…”

The Queen said, “Derwyddon told us you were required in our
court.”
Out of instinct, Elena turned to face the Queen. And when she
did, she nearly fell back in her chair. The woman’s presence was like
a wall, pushing against her. She immediately dropped her gaze again.
“I’m sorry,” Elena said. “This is…troubling.”
“We wish you to read our fortune,” the Queen said.
Elena looked at the cards. “How did you get a sorte deck?”
“It was a gift from a Vodacce admirer,” the Queen said. “Can you
use it?”
Elena nodded. “It is not my deck, but yes.”
The Queen asked, “Shall we use your deck instead?”
“Yes,” Elena said. “That would be better.”
Elena stood and went to her bag. She looked through it, found
her deck, and brought it back to the table. She noticed Foote had
his hand on his long knife. Elena looked at the knife, then at Foote.
“A precaution?” she asked.
Foote said nothing, only gave her a small smile and a nod.
Elena sat at the table. The Queen set the other deck aside. Elena
put hers on the table. Then, she said, “If your Majesty would shuffle
the cards.”
The Queen took the cards into her hands and began to shuffle.
As she did, Elena raised her gaze to see the Queen…and looked.
She saw the woman’s Arcana burning with the same brightness
she saw over Berek.
Elena said, “Your Majesty, when I speak, I hope you understand
that I mean no offense or harm. I only say what I see.”
The Queen said, “Below this castle is a cave of fire and crystal.
And in that cave is a man who speaks as you do.” She nodded. “We
are prepared.”
 Daughter of Fate 241

The Queen set the cards on the table. Elena took them and cut
the deck. She began to deal out the cards.
The first was The Emperor. Then, the crossing card. Elena set The
Lovers across the Emperor. She paused.
“A powerful monarch sits on the throne,” Elena said. “A woman
of insight and vision. And courage. And love for her people.”
The Queen said, “This is not divination.”
Elena pointed at The Lovers. “But she will be betrayed by the
one she loves the most.” Elena looked up. Looked into the Queen’s
eyes. “A secret lover only she knows. And no other.”
The Queen’s brow furrowed, her eyes narrowing. “Sir William,”
she said, not breaking Elena’s gaze. “Leave us.”
“I will not leave the Queen with a foreign stranger.”
“Obey our command!” the Queen said.
Foote gave a short bow and left the room, so there was only
Elena and the Queen.
“Continue,” the Queen said.
Elena laid out another card, this time above The Emperor. The
Knight of Swords. Elena said, “Her mind is noble, inspired by
another. Someone who upholds the ideals she values. She looks to
him to maintain her dignity in the face of treason and treachery. He
is a man of action, but noble action. And he is close to her.”
The Queen made the smallest nod. “Go on,” she said.
Elena laid a card below The Emperor. The Knight of Cups.
“But another tempts her,” Elena said. “Someone who has a heart
of joy and adventure. Reckless, but skilled enough to survive reck-
lessness. And he loves her more than anything in all the world, even
if he cannot say or show it.”
Elena put her forefinger on the Knight of Swords and her thumb
on the Knight of Cups. “These two forces—one above and one
below—are storms with great wind. Pulling The Emperor in two
242 John Wick

different directions.” She paused. “Pulling her heart in two different

directions.”
The Queen nodded. “Yes,” Then, as if awakening, she said, “Go
on.”
Elena laid a card behind The Emperor. The Devil.
“The Emperor made a deal…” Elena began.
The Queen put her hand on Elena’s hand. “Stop,” she said.
“Enough.”
Elena looked at the Queen. “I must finish,” she said. “Bad
fortune for you if I do not.”
For the briefest moment, Elena felt the Queen’s fingers tremble.
The Queen stared at her, trying to ascertain if Elena told her the
truth. Then, she lifted her hand. “Continue,” she said.
“A deal,” Elena said. “A deal for power. A sacrifice given.”
The Queen said nothing. Elena turned the next card, putting it
to the right of The Emperor. The Dame of Wands.
Elena paused, looking at the card. The Queen sat silent. Finally,
Elena looked up.
“A daughter,” Elena said.
The Queen said nothing.
Elena put her thumb on The Devil, her little finger on the Dame
of Wands.
“A sacrifice,” Elena said.
Elena watched the Queen’s chin rise, just a touch. She blinked
and a single tear escaped her eye, rolled down her cheek.
“Yes,” the Queen said. Then, she asked, “Is it over?”
Elena shook her head. “No.” She spread the deck between her
fingers and selected a single card. Then, she flipped it, letting it fall
on the spread of cards. Elena watched the card tumble in the air
before it landed on the Dame of Wands.
The Ten of Swords.
 Daughter of Fate 243

Elena felt her breath catch. She looked at the Queen.

“Your daughter will return,” she said. “And when she does…she
will be the herald of doom.”
The Queen sat in silence for a long moment. Then, she shouted,
“Sir William!”
He came through the door like a black, shadowy storm, his hand
on his knife. “Your Majesty?” he asked.
“Show this woman to Derwyddon,” she said. “He is in the cave.”
Foote bowed. “As you command, Your Majesty.”
The Queen stood and Elena stood with her, bowing.
“You are either the greatest spy in Vodacce or a true witch,” the
Queen said. “If you are a spy, Derwyddon will eat your soul.”
With that, she spun about, leaving the room.
Foote smiled, gently. “My lady?” he asked, extending his arm.
Elena looked back at the table at the cards. There was one thing
she did not tell the Queen, and she was glad she did not.
244 John Wick

2
The cave was cold. Elena saw her breath in front of her as she and
Foote descended the ancient stone steps. She was still dressed in her
small clothes and dressing robe. Foote did not give her an opportu-
nity to change. Slippers on stone, she walked, hearing the sound of
his boots behind her.
“Will you use your knife if I run?” Elena asked over her shoulder.
“Why would you run?” he answered. “You do not know where
you are and there is an entire castle above us full of guards.”
Elena said, “I’m not the same frightened girl I was when you first
arranged for my abduction.”
Foote said, “I know.” Then nothing else.
They reached the bottom of the stairway and Elena saw books
everywhere—on shelves, open on a great wooden table, on the floor.
And in the middle of it was a man. Hunched and frazzled. His hair
looked as if it had never been combed and when he looked up at
them, Elena saw one of his eyes gleam red.
“The sorte strega,” the man said.
Elena said, “Elena Mondavi.”
“I know who you were,” the man said. “I was Derwyddon.”
Elena looked at Foote. He said nothing.
“Come here,” Derwyddon said.
Elena shook her head. “For some reason, I feel safer here with
Sir William.”
The old man laughed. “That would be a failure of judgment.” He
raised a hand full of crooked fingers. “Come here,” he said again.
Elena looked at Foote. He nodded. Elena turned back to Der-
wyddon and stepped forward.
 Daughter of Fate 245

“That’s right,” he said. “Come closer.”

“What do you want, stregone?” she asked.
Derwyddon laughed, a wet, coughing laugh. “You call me ‘sor-
cerer.’” He nodded. “That is appropriate. I put things in their proper
place.”
Elena frowned at him. “Does no one in this country know how
to answer a question?”
From behind her, Elena heard Foote chortle. In front of her,
Derwyddon said, “Let me see your hand.”
“Are you a circus fortune teller now?” Elena asked. “Going to read
my palm? Tell my future.”
“I know your future,” Derwyddon said. “Give me your hand.”
Elena extended her arm, but only an inch, her hand closed. “Tell
me first,” she said.
“Your future?” he asked.
Elena nodded. “Yes.”
Derwyddon smiled, stretching the ancient skin across his face.
His eyes rolled up above his lids and his lips trembled. In a voice
that sounded with a strange echo, he said, “A crippled heir does not
live long in Vodacce.”
Elena’s eyes froze on the old man. “What? Ignazio?” She was
confused. “My brother is dead.”
Derwyddon continued, “Your sister suffers the same fate. Seven
Princes in Vodacce. The blackest heart. Swords cross. Your blood,
spilled.”
Elena reached out and grabbed his robe. “My sister? What trick
is this?”
“Wife of the black heart,” Derwyddon said, his eyes pure white,
spittle spilling from the corner of his mouth. “The blackest heart. A
fate that cannot be untangled.”
“Stop speaking in riddles!” she shouted at him. “Tell me!”
246 John Wick

His eyes rolled back. One of them blue, the other blood red and
shining. His smile returned. “I have told you all you need to know.”
A bit of drool from his lips. “And I have seen all I need to see.”
“What did you see?” Elena asked.
Derwyddon said, “You have told the Queen what she needed to
hear. I have told her many times, but she does not listen to me.” He
made an awful sound, somewhere between a cough and a chortle.
“Perhaps she will listen to you.”
Elena shoved the old man. He staggered backward and giggled.
From behind her, Foote said, “Let us leave, Miss Mondavi.”
Elena turned to look at Foote. “Wait,” she said. “I need to
know…”
Foote put his hand on her shoulder. “Now,” he said.
Elena looked back at Derwyddon. He grinned at her, his red eye
shining. “Goodbye, daughter of fate,” he said. Then he turned away
and walked deeper into the cave, the shadows devouring him.
 Daughter of Fate 247

3
She was on the Morning Star, dropping from the rigging to the
deck. Ignazio was there, but he was Griffin, but he was Ignazio. She
hugged him. He wrapped his strong arms around her and she buried
her face in his chest.
“Ignazio,” she said.
Veronica stepped up behind her, arms tight around Elena’s arms.
Then, a kiss on her ear. Elena gasped—
—and woke with a start, the dream just behind her eyes.
The room was pitch black, the candle beside her bed long gone
out. She rose, removed her sleeping chemise, and pulled on her
dress. Shoes on her feet, she went to the door and unbarred it. Elena
looked up and down the corridor, then closed the door behind her.
She wandered the quiet castle for a while. No sounds save for
night sounds. An owl outside a window. A distant fire slowly dying
in a fireplace. She heard snoring and found a man dead asleep in a
chair among a circle of chairs. She did not recognize him.
A little further and she found the kitchen. A guard stopped her.
“Sorry, ma’am,” she said. “No one allowed in the kitchen after hours.”
Elena said, “I just wanted some bread and cheese.”
The woman shook her head. “No, ma’am. No one in the kitchen
after hours.”
Foote’s voice sounded behind Elena. “I’m here, Afanen,” he said.
Elena nearly jumped. She turned and saw the man standing not
an arm’s length away from her. The woman nodded. “Aye, sir.” She
stepped from the doorway, giving Elena room to enter.
Elena looked at Foote. “You can order any guard to step aside?”
she asked.
248 John Wick

Foote nodded. “I am Her Majesty’s servant.”

Elena stepped through the entryway and Foote followed her. She
asked, “How did you know I was here?”
“I knew you left your room,” he said. “Because I know everything
that happens in Her Majesty’s castle.” He gave one of his smiles,
small and subtle. “This castle hides nothing from me.”
He stepped to a cupboard and opened it, removing a loaf of
bread. Then another cupboard and a wedge of cheese. Then a drawer
and a knife. “There you are,” he said. “Would you like some wine?”
Elena shook her head. “No, thank you. I think I’ve had enough
of Avalon wine.”
Without saying a word, Foote went to a cabinet, unlocked it
with a key, and took down a bottle sealed with wax.
“Vino?” he asked.
Elena’s eyes widened. “Where did you…?”
“This castle hides nothing from me,” he said.
Elena nodded, briskly. “Yes,” she said.
Foote unsealed the bottle and poured two glasses. He kept one
for himself, handed the other to Elena. She took one sip, closed her
eyes, and moaned.
“It has been too long,” she said.
“I have a case brought to me about once a month,” he said. “One
bottle always goes to my office.”
Elena took another sip, then realized she almost forgot about
the bread and cheese. She set down the cup and cut into both. She
offered some to Foote. He took the cheese but shook his head at
the bread.
“So,” Elena said. “You are Queen Elaine’s…”
“I serve Her Majesty’s wishes,” he said.
“We have a word in Vodacce for a man such as you,” Elena said.
“Consilgiere.”
 Daughter of Fate 249

Taking a bite of the cheese, Foote nodded. “That is an adequate

word for my position.”
“Berek called you her spy master,” Elena said. “But I think you’re
more than that.”
Foote said, “I find the term vulgar and unsatisfactory.”
Elena smiled. “I thought you would.”
Foote said, “You, Miss Mondavi, have done nothing but surprise
and impress me since your arrival.”
“How so?” Elena asked, cutting another slice of bread, washing
down the last one with wine.
“You are a sorte strega,” he said. “I was made to believe women
with your particular—shall we call it ‘skill’?—are kept from learning
any other skills. And yet, you can read, you can write, you can fence.”
He paused, finishing the last of his cheese. “But most importantly,
you can think.”
Elena cut into the cheese, taking a large slice. She cut it in half,
handed one to Foote. “A woman learns a great deal on a ship.” She
took a bite of the cheese.
Foote nodded, taking the cheese from her hand. “So I hear.”
“There’s times on a ship when there’s nothing at all to do,” she
said. “So, I learned everything I could. Learned to read, learned to
write.” She smiled. “Learned to fight.”
“And learned to think,” Foote said.
“My grandmother taught me how to think,” Elena said. “Show
your enemy your weaknesses and hide your strengths. Let him assume
the worst of you.”
Foote smiled. “And always assume your enemy is doing the same.”
His eyes shone in the dim room. “You’ve read Ends and Means.”
Elena nodded. “Among others.”
Foote found a stool and sat. Elena did the same. He refilled the
cups. “You are a most capable woman, Elena Mondavi,” he said.
250 John Wick

“You want something,” Elena told him. She was looking at the
bottle, not Foote.
“I want to make you an offer,” he said. “An exchange of services.”
Elena was cutting into the bread and saw his finger touch the
top of the knife. “I hear you can read the character of a man with a
glance.”
Elena looked up from the knife. “And a woman,” she said.
“A sorte strega may tell if…this person is trustworthy.”
Elena felt her eyebrow rise. “You want me to be able to trust you,
Sir William?” she asked.
“I want you to know you can trust me.”
Elena smiled. “All right,” she said. “Tell me why you arranged
my abduction.”
Foote said, “I thought Derwyddon made it clear.”
“You tell me,” Elena said. She watched him as he answered.
He took a moment to collect his thoughts, then told her.
“When the Queen took the throne, the Kingdom was in ruins.
Nearly wrecked by her sister. To salvage what was left was…unac-
ceptable. We needed to build on a new foundation.” He poured
himself more wine. “The persona of the virgin goddess.”
“Goddess?” Elena asked.
“It is an old legend here in Avalon,” Foote said. “A powerful
one. The white-skinned goddess. The Queen made herself into that
persona. Built her own legend.”
“Made her own story,” Elena said, remembering Berek’s words.
Foote nodded. “Yes.” He sipped the wine. “And taking that
persona carries a certain…price.”
Elena remembered the cards and the Queen’s eyes. She said,
“The Queen is in love.”
Foote nodded. “And a virgin goddess cannot have a lover. Let
alone marry.”
 Daughter of Fate 251

Elena smiled. “She won’t listen to you or Derwyddon,” she said.

“So you thought a fate witch could convince her.”
Foote sliced another bit of cheese. “Derwyddon said I would
bring you here. He is seldom wrong.” He laughed, softly. “He is
never wrong.”
“You arranged for my abduction,” Elena said. “Which led to my
family’s murder.”
Foote looked confused. “Murder?” he asked.
“They were killed by Crimson Raiders,” she said. “They killed my
family.”
Foote turned his head, just a little. “Miss Mondavi,” he said.
“You are wrong.”
“The Crimson Raiders did not kill my family?” she asked.
“No,” Foote said. “Your family is alive and living in Vodacce.”
Elena felt her lips scowl. “You lie!” she said.
“I assure you it is the truth,” he said, his voice unmoving. “Your
brothers, your sister, your mother and father. They are all alive.”
“I saw the burning ship!” Elena said. “They died in that hellish
fire!”
“The ship that burned was commissioned by me,” Foote said.
“Your family was not on it. The ship was a Vodacce smuggler.”
Elena blinked, her heart pounding. “My…family…”
“Is alive and well,” Foote said. “I promise you.”
Elena stood from the table, her legs stumbling. She caught
herself on a counter before she fell. “Alive?” she asked. “For these
years I’ve been away?”
Foote nodded. “It is true. I can tell you all about them, if you
like.”
Elena felt her legs crumple from under her and she fell to the
floor.
“My family,” she said. She looked up at Foote. “My sister? Ignazio?”
252 John Wick

Foote had not moved from his chair. “All of them,” he said.
She was still stunned. Elena looked up at Foote. “You can…tell
me?”
He nodded. “I can,” he said. “But first, I would like you to do a
small favor for me.”
Elena nodded. “Anything,” she said.
Foote smiled. “I want you to steal something from the King of
Montaigne.”

***

Foote went to another cupboard. He opened it, took out a

length of dried sausage and returned to the table. He dropped it
down. “I want you to accompany the Montaigne ambassador back
to Montaigne.”
Elena was back in her chair, her head swimming. She heard
Foote’s words, but they seemed garbled. “Why would I want to do
that?” she asked.
“I will answer that question in a moment,” he said. “First, I want
to tell you why I want you to do that.”
Elena nodded, watching Foote cut some of the meat away. “Go
on,” she said.
Foote said, “The Montaigne ambassador is under my employ,”
he said. “One of my agents. He has been unable to secure a particu-
lar letter that is important to me. I want you to help him with that.”
Foote offered her a slice of sausage. Elena took it and held it
limply in her hand. “If he has failed, why don’t you just dismiss him?”
“A few reasons,” Foote said. “He is a favorite of King Louis, and I
have no intention of insulting Montaigne at this moment. The King
could announce an invasion for even the most trivial offenses.”
Elena nodded. “Understood. What’s the other reason?”
 Daughter of Fate 253

“He is an excellent agent. However, he has reached the end of

his abilities in this matter.” Foote met her gaze. “It is not an issue of
competence. He is the wrong kind of agent for this action.”
“And I am the right kind of agent?” Elena asked.
Foote nodded. “You are.”
“And what kind of agent is that?” Elena asked.
“A woman who has read Ends and Means.”
Elena let that set in her brain. She nodded. “I understand.”
“Regain this letter,” Foote said. “That is my request.”
Elena said, “Tell me about my family.”
Foote nodded. “I will.”
“Now,” Elena said.
Foote nodded again. “Very well.” He raised himself up from
the chair and walked to the window. He opened it, allowing the
cool night air into the room. “Since you left, your father has lost all
control of his lands. They are now run by Villanova.”
Elena said, “Yes, that was inevitable.”
“Your brother,” he paused, turning to her, “the cripple. He
manages the lands for your father. At least, he does as much as he
can from a chair.”
Elena frowned at him. “Go on.”
“There has been no sign of your other brother. The traitor.”
“Felice,” Elena said.
“Yes,” Foote said. “Him.” He continued, “Your sister, meanwhile,
has taken your place as the bride-to-be for Villanova’s son.”
Elena’s eyes opened wide. “Catarina?” she asked.
“That is what I know,” Foote said. “And it is all I know.”
Elena sat at the table, thinking. What Foote said sounded true.
But he could have been lying. Using what he knew about Elena’s
family to trick her into this…action.
“Miss Mondavi,” Foote said. “If you wish to check my words, you
254 John Wick

are free to so. I will make my agents’ reports available to you.”

Elena looked at him. Saw his Arcana. She took a breath. “No,”
she said. “I trust you.”
Foote returned to the table. He sat down. Elena noticed a slight
wince as he bent his hips.
Elena paused, the knife between her lips. She pulled some cheese
from the knife, then set it down. “What do you know about my
sister’s marriage? She’s only a baby.”
Foote said, “When you left, she was a girl. Now, she is a young
woman. And showing signs of the gift.”
Elena felt panic fill her chest. Her fingers clenched the knife until
her knuckles turned white. “No,” she said again. “I cannot…”
Foote said, “I see your loyalty to your family begins to conflict
with your willingness to honor our bargain.” He took the cup from
the table. “Let me enhance my offer. If you retrieve the letter, I will
provide you with the information and means to rescue your sister.”
Elena’s anger overcame her and she plunged the knife into the
table. She looked at Foote. “When does the wedding take place?”
Foote said, “Not for a few more years. You have time.” He
watched her closely. “Do we have an agreement, Miss Mondavi?”
Elena hesitated. Then, she said, “We have an agreement.”
“Such words mean more in Avalon than in other places, Miss
Mondavi.”
“The same can be said at sea, Master Foote,” Elena said.
Foote nodded. “So I have heard.”
Elena finished her wine and stood. “I will leave as soon as you
need me,” she said. She walked to the door and stopped, turning
back to Foote. She asked, “Is it true Derwyddon lives backward?”
“You mean, is he moving from the future to the past?”
“Yes,” Elena said.
Foote’s smile broadened. “I believe it is true because of the many
 Daughter of Fate 255

books he reads.”
“Books?”
“You saw his laboratory was covered in books?”
Elena nodded. “Yes.”
“They are all history books,” Foote said. “I believe he is studying
what he doesn’t know.”
256 John Wick

4
Outside Carleon Castle, she stood with Foote and Archambault, the
Montaigne ambassador, looking over the ocean. He said, “You have
all your things with you?”
She nodded, gesturing at the two bags. “This is it.”
“Very well,” he said, removing one of his gloves.
Foote told Elena, “It would be best if you used a pseudonym. A
name others will not know.”
Elena shook her head. “Why?”
“The name Mondavi is famous outside of Vodacce,” he said. “And
you will not want that name associated with you as you travel.”
Elena thought for a moment. Then she smiled. “I have one.”
Foote nodded. “Good.” Then, to Archambault, “Bon voyage.” He
walked away from them, back to the castle.
“How long will the voyage to Montaigne take?” Elena asked.
“Not long at all,” Archambault said. “Pick up your bags. And
hold them tightly.”
“What?” Elena asked.
“Pick up your bags,” Archambault said again, “and hold them
tightly.”
Elena bent over, lifted her two bags. She looked at Archambault.
“What…”
He took her by the arm. “Keep your eyes closed as tight as you
hold the bags,” he said. “Do not doubt me.”
Elena shook her head. “I don’t understand,” she said.
He put one hand over her eyes. “Close them,” he said. “And do
not open them until I say so.”
Elena shut her eyes. “Archambault,” she said. “I…”
 Daughter of Fate 257

She smelled sulfur. And limes. Rotten meat. And she heard a
scream. She felt Archambault’s hand over her eyes and remembered
his warning. Someone moaned, help me, and she opened her mouth
to reply, but tasted something awful on her tongue.
Then, she felt her stomach drop. Just like the time she fell from
the rigging, the rope around her waist keeping her from hitting the
deck, but she fell halfway down the mast. And something clicked on
the bottom of her feet.
“You may open your eyes now,” Archambault said, taking his
hand away.
Elena opened her eyes.
They stood in a large chamber. A bedroom. She saw an enormous
bed—gilded posts, silk sheets, a dozen pillows—a modesty panel,
painted walls, painted ceiling…
“Wh—where are we?” she asked.
“We are in Montaigne!” he said, letting go of her arm.
“H—how?”
“Surely you have heard of l’art de porté?”
Elena heard members of the Montaigne nobility were sorcerers,
but she had no idea…
“What happened?” she asked.
Archambault took off his hat and threw it on the bed. “I have
brought us from Avalon to Montaigne in un clin d’oeil!” He smiled.
“Or, in the wink of an eye, if you prefer.”
Elena looked about the room. She did not know where she was
and that uncertainty made her suspicious. “Archambault,” she said.
“Explain to me what just happened.” Her voice was low and had the
growl of anger.
“Pardon moi,” he said. “I forget that sometimes porté can have
a—how do you say?—a disorientating effect on the foreigner.” He
removed his gloves and tossed them to where his hat lay. “I was born
258 John Wick

with the gift of porté—just as you were born with a gift, n’est pas?”
“A gift?” Elena said. “A sorcerous gift?”
“Oui! C’est vrai!” He unbuttoned his coat. “Just as you may see
the brins du destin, so may I open and travel through doorways.”
Elena was about to ask another question when her stomach
churned, making a loud grumble. Her eyes bulged. Archambault
said, “Ah, I should have expected…” He moved quickly, grabbing
the chamber pot from the corner of the room and put in front of
Elena. “Here you are,” he said. “And do not be embarrassed, mon
Cherie.”
Elena dropped her bags and grabbed the chamber pot, running
behind the modesty panel. She made three awful noises as Archam-
bault continued talking.
“It is an ancient art,” he said, “passed through the blood. I have
often wondered if there is a connection between the sorcery of your
family and the sorcery of mine.”
When she finished, she saw Archambault had thrown a handker-
chief over the top of the modesty panel. “It is common, mademoiselle.
It happens to everyone the first time.”
Elena wiped her lips clean, then set down the chamber pot. She
moved to the other side of the panel.
“You…” she said. “…can move…through space?”
Archambault was in his shirt and trousers. “Oui,” he said, with
an eager smile and a quick nod of his head. As if she asked him if he
enjoyed wine.
“How?” she asked.
He crooked his smile. “Oh, Cherie,” he said. “Do not expect a
man to give up all his secrets just because you have a pretty face.”
She looked at him. “Why are you getting undressed?” she asked.
He glanced down. “Oh, pardon moi. It is my custom to change
clothing after traveling.” He pulled a long cord hanging from the
 Daughter of Fate 259

ceiling. “S’il vous plais, allow me to call a servant to bring you to

your room.”
“You still haven’t told me where we are, Archambault,” Elena said.
“We are in my home in Charouse,” he said. “And you are my
guest. Which means this is your home as well.”
A moment later, a knock on the door.
“Ah!” Archambault said. “That will be Pierre, my valet. He will
escort you to your room!” He looked at the door. “Entrez!”
Her stomach still rumbling, Elena saw a young man enter
the room. Bright blue velvet suit, shining black shoes, white wig.
He bowed.
Archambault spoke to Pierre in Montaginoise. “Please see Miss
Mondavi to the premier guest room and make sure all her needs are
met.”
Pierre bowed again and then bowed at Elena. She tried to speak,
burped, and said, “Pardon moi.”
“There is no need to apologize,” Pierre replied. “The travel is
always this way.”
Elena nodded, noting how the boy showed no surprise whatso-
ever by the sudden appearance of his master or a guest. This must be
common for him, she thought.
“Please,” he said, “follow me.”
Pierre picked up her bags and left the room. Elena followed.
“I will see you later today for dinner!” Archambault said. “Your
belly should be calmer by then!”

***

The house was a painting.

No, step back. It wasn’t a house. It was a mansion. Seventeen
bedrooms, three ballrooms, a library… Elena wandered the halls,
260 John Wick

amazed. Every inch was a piece of art. Hung in frames, standing

on pedestals, painted on the very walls. Gold filigree. Carved wood.
Velvet drapes. Stained glass. Marble floors.
Every inch.
Her room looked like a museum. Behind large oak doors—
carved with detail—with brass handles. Pierre gave her a key. Elena
was afraid to hold it too tightly. She looked at the bed, wonder-
ing how anyone slept comfortably in something so beautiful. The
perfect arrangement of sheets and pillows looked like someone spent
an hour putting them together. She didn’t want to disturb them.
Elena remembered her father’s house. It seemed all of it could fit
in this single room.
After Pierre closed the door behind him, she changed into
another dress. Green this time. Something she bought in Avalon,
especially for the trip. As she changed, she noticed a mirror. A mirror
stretching from the floor to up above her head.
And for the first time in her life, Elena saw her whole body in
one viewing. The green dress on her olive skin. Her black hair tum-
bling over her shoulders like dark clouds. Arms clad in long sleeves
matching the color of the dress.
She gasped. Elena had seen herself in mirrors before, but they
could all fit in her hand. Looking at herself like this…
A knock at the door. Elena turned, surprised. “Sí?” she asked.
“Madamoiselle.” It was Pierre’s voice. “Dinner shall be ready in
two hours. In the meantime, the Viscount would like you to know
his library is open for your perusal. I can show you the way, if you
wish.”
“Oh,” she said. “Merci beaucoup.”
She finished dressing, looking at the mirror. She smiled at it,
watching her face smile back. “How useful,” she said. She used the
key to unlock the door and then locked it again behind her.
 Daughter of Fate 261

***

The library shelves reached so high, she needed a ladder to reach

the top. Every wall was a bookshelf. Stuffed chairs and small desks
for reading.
She knew how to speak Montaginoise, but she did not know how
to read it. She looked at the books, opening the pages, looking at the
words. Some of them she could sound out, but others were puzzles.
Near the middle of the shelf was a book larger than the others.
Elena took it in both hands and pulled it from the shelf. She felt the
heft of it in her hands and carried it to the table. She pulled back
the cover.
Le Livre de Prophéts.
She thought for a moment…
Il Libro dei Profeti.
She smiled. Puzzle solved.
She sat down at the table, looking over the words. She had heard
them so many times, spoken at church, recited by her father, but she
had never read them herself. Slowly she made her way through the
pages. Pausing to think. Sometimes, guessing. She was able to parse
together some phrases and most of the words.
She was halfway through page six when a bell rang. The library
door opened and another servant entered, one she had not met before.
“Le Baron de Durand.”
Elena looked up and saw a short man enter the room dressed
in raspberry velvets. He was handsome, round in the chest, used a
cane as a fashion accessory, and wore gold on every finger. His small
goatee was trimmed close to his face and it stretched when he smiled.
“Bonjour,” he said, approaching Elena. “Je suis le Baron de Durand.”
Elena curtseyed. “Bonjour,” she said. She offered her hand and
he kissed it.
262 John Wick

“Tell me,” he continued. “Where does Archambault continue

to find such lovely young women?” He squeezed her hand tightly,
using the tip of his index finger to rub her palm.
Elena pulled her hand away. “He wins them over with wit and
charm,” Elena said.
“Not gold and jewels?” Durand asked. “That is how I win my
women.”
Elena felt she needed to wash her hand. “There are many paths to
victory,” she said. “And some victories are worth more than others.”
“Oh!” Durand said. “I see this is not one of the empty-headed
wigs from l’Empereur’s court! We have a woman of true substance
in our midst!”
Elena smiled. “C’est vrai,” she said.
The servant opened the doors again. “Le Countess de Chastain.”
A woman stepped through the doorway in a dress that looked
like three dresses. Green, blue, and gold. Her face was pasted white,
blood red stain on her lips, and her eyes thick with black. She held a
fan in her hand and her wig was half as tall as Elena.
“Mon petite chou!” Durand exclaimed as he rushed to the woman.
Elena blinked. My little cabbage?
They kissed each other’s cheeks and spoke in quick, high-pitched
babble. Elena stood a little too far away and their patter was too fast
for her to catch any of it.
Durand turned to Elena. “Oh!” he said. “I should introduce our
surprise guest!” The two of them walked across the library floor, the
sound of whooshing fabric as loud as their words.
“My dear,” Durand said to the Countess Chastain. “This is…”
and he paused. “Oh my,” he said to Elena. “I’m afraid I don’t know
your name.”
Elena was about to speak, but paused. She remembered her con-
versation with Foote.
 Daughter of Fate 263

“Elena Stella del Mattino,” she said.

“Elena,” Durand said, as if he was tasting her name. He turned
to the Countess. “This is Elena Stella del Mattino.” Back to Elena,
“This is the Countess Chastain.”
Elena smiled. “It seems the custom to get yourself introduced as
many times as possible.” She raised an eyebrow. “Is this a game in
Montaigne that no one introduced me to?”
The Baron and Countess both laughed. The Countess said, “Oh,
this one has some venom! I hear all the Vodacce courtesans do!”
That caught Elena off guard. “Courtesan?”
The Countess smiled. “Oui! Mais bien sûr! A Vodacce woman of
your wit, reading the Book of the Prophets! You must be a courtesan!”
Elena looked at the book beside her, then she looked back at the
Baron and Countess. She nodded, slowly. “Oui,” she said. “I am a
courtesan. Visiting from Vodacce.”
The Countess made a sound deep in her throat. “Oooo…a
woman skilled in the arts of pleasure!”
Elena smiled and nodded, her cheeks burning. “Yes. That’s me.”
“You shall have to show me some tricks later!” the Countess said.
Elena nodded again, more slowly. “Yes,” she said. “I shall have
to do that.”
Archambault entered the room then, decked out in reds and
blacks. “Bon soir, mes amis! What are we up to tonight?”
Durand said, “Archambault! You didn’t tell us you had a Vodacce
courtesan as your companion!”
Archambault looked at Elena with surprise. “I do?” he asked.
“Don’t be a tease!” the Countess said. “She’s told us everything!”
“Well!” Archambault said. “It seems I too am taken by surprise! I
knew our guest was capable, but I had no idea she was that capable!”
Elena felt her blush grow deeper.
“Mon Dieu!” Archambault said. “Is there anything you cannot do,
264 John Wick

my dear?”
Elena nodded. “There are many things I cannot do,” she said.
He stepped forward, taking her hand and kissing it. “It all makes
sense now! Your skill with a sword! Your wit! Your bravery! Why did
you not tell me you are a courtesan?”
Elena looked into Archambault’s eyes. “You never asked, mon
ami.”

***

Many more guests arrived. At least thirty. Standing in the great

hall, a small orchestra playing, Elena whispered to Archambault, “I
didn’t expect a party.”
Archambault smiled. “If I have a beautiful rose, I must put it on
display for all to see!”
“You do not own me, monsieur,” Elena said, her voice a touch harsh.
Archambault turned to her, his eyes wide open. And when he
spoke, in Vodacce, his voice seemed different. “My sincerest apol-
ogies, Elena,” he said. “I did not mean to insinuate any such thing.”
The sudden change caught Elena off guard. She shook her head.
“No, sir,” she said. “It was my mistake. I misunderstood your playful
banter for sincerity.”
Archambault bowed. “Then we are both in error,” he said. He
stepped away, engaging with a woman in red velvet.
For a moment, Elena wanted to follow him, but a bell rang.
Pierre stepped into the room, announcing dinner.
Archambault almost squealed, jumping up and down, clapping.
A response in direct contrast to what Elena had just seen. Everyone
in the room politely rushed to the door leading to the dining room.
Except it wasn’t dinner. It was seven dinners, all served at the
same table.
 Daughter of Fate 265

The first meal was oysters. Elena ate them quickly. But then,
the second meal. A thick soup with meat and vegetables. And the
third meal. Poached fish. The fourth meal. A tiny cut of steak that
Archambault called filet mignon. The fifth meal. Roast duck in a
thick garlic sauce. The sixth meal…
Elena said, “Stop.” She held her stomach. “I can’t. I just can’t eat
anymore.”
Archambault laughed. “But my dear! We have two more courses
to go!”
Elena waved her hand. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. I just can’t. I don’t
want to be sick at your table, Jean Marie.”
He smiled and waved. “Of course, my dear. You must become
accustomed to Montaigne hospitality!”
The Countess said, “I thought courtesans were experts in every
manner of indulgence.” She took another bite of the duck, her
greasy lips grinning.
Elena said, “As Scarovese wrote, Moderation is the key to sustained
bliss.”
The Baron laughed. “What kind of fool said that?” He dropped
a duck bone onto his plate.
Archambault said, “Christoph Scarovese.” He raised a glass to
Elena. “A wise man who died one hundred years ago.”
Elena looked at Archambault, a little surprise in her gaze. She
had not expected him to know Scarovese, let alone call him “wise.”
She raised her glass as well. The Countess and Baron both contin-
ued eating.

***

Later, in the library, as others played cards and spoke about those
who weren’t there and drank themselves to sickness—with servants
266 John Wick

nearby holding silver chamber pots—she perused the books.

She noticed many of them had dog-eared pages and hand-writ-
ten notes in the margins. Elena found a copy of One Thousand Days,
a book she read on the Morning Star. She pulled it off the shelf and
turned the pages, reading the notes. She smiled, finding many of her
own thoughts—and a few others—in the margins.
The Baron appeared, his lips and fingers still greasy, from around
the bookshelf. He grinned at her like a cat grinning at a small rodent.
“Bonsoir,” he said.
Elena closed the book and held it against her chest. “Buonasera.”
“I’m afraid I don’t speak your father’s language,” he said, staying
in Montaignoise.
She replied in kind, “A tiny defect in your charm.”
His smile broadened. “I have never seen a Vodacce woman
holding a book,” he said, gesturing at what she held in her hands.
“There is more in the world you haven’t seen than you have,”
Elena told him. “Pardon moi,” she said as she stepped away.
But he caught her arm and held it. “I am not finished with this
conversation.”
Elena turned to glare at him. “I am. And you are getting duck
grease on my dress.”
He laughed. “I will buy you ten of them!”
Elena tried to pull her arm away, but he kept his grip.
He said, “Since we all know your profession, I was inquiring
about the price. I am a man of means, after all.”
Elena shook her head. “I am not for sale,” she said.
“All whores are for sale. Negotiation of price is all that’s in ques-
tion here.”
Elena slapped the book across his face.
Across the library, guests stopped whatever they were doing,
turned and looked.
 Daughter of Fate 267

The Baron held his cheek, his eyes wide and amazed. Then, his
gaze refocused and he said, “You have struck me.”
“Touch me again and I shall strike you again,” Elena said. She
saw Archambault standing in the doorway of the library, watching.
“No,” the Baron said. “You have struck me. A woman has struck
me.”
“Everyone knows that,” Elena said. “Are you such a fool that you
must inform everyone of what they already know?”
“And you insult me?” he said, his voice turning from astonish-
ment to rage. He took a glove from his belt and swung it at Elena.
She caught his wrist and bent it, kicking at his knee. The Baron
screamed and fell to the ground.
Archambault rushed forward, standing close to Elena. “Now
you’ve done it,” he said. He spoke with the same voice he used when
he apologized. Elena looked up at him, confused.
“Done what?” she asked.
“Satisfaction!” the Baron screamed from the library floor. “I
demand satisfaction! This whore has stained my honor and I demand
satisfaction!”
“You must be a dim little man!” Elena shouted at him. “Just
because you need everything explained to you three times doesn’t
mean you need to do the same for everyone else!”
The Baron’s eyes widened, his lips stuttering. “The whore did it
again!” He staggered to his feet, grasping his knee. “Archambault! It
is my right!”
“You can go up to your room and get satisfaction from your hand!”
Elena shouted at him. She heard the room gasp. Some even giggled.
Archambault stood between them. “The Baron has made the
demand.” He looked at Elena. “Do you accept?”
“Why would I accept anything from a stolto such as he?” She spat
at him. “Pezzo di merda e morire!”
268 John Wick

Archambault put his hand on Elena’s shoulder. “He has chal-

lenged you a duel,” he said.
Elena stopped. Looked at Archambault, her breath burning in
her lungs.
“Sí,” she said. “I will fight him.”
“You will die, whore!” the Baron shouted.
Archambault said, “Because you are the challenged, you have the
right to choose weapons. Swords or pistols?”
“Swords,” Elena said, glaring at the Baron.
Standing on his bad knee, the Baron said, “My man will meet
you tomorrow morning at dawn.”
“What?” Elena asked. “Your man?” She looked at Archambault.
“What does that mean?”
“As a cousin to l’Empereur, he has the right to choose a champion,
rather than fight himself.”
“What?” Elena asked again. She glared at the Baron. “Bastardo!”
she shouted. “Vigliacco!”
“I do not speak the pig language of Vodacce whores,” the
Baron said.
Elena spoke in Montaignoise. “I called you a bastard and a
coward! Ignorant fool!”
“I have had enough of this company,” the Baron said. “Tomorrow
morning.” He pointed at Elena. “Prepare for your death.” He limped
away. Elena watched him go, then looked about the room.
The women all held fans in front of their faces, trying to hide
their surprise and amusement. The men went back to speaking to
each other as if nothing had happened.

***

Elena stormed into her room, kicking a bag on the floor,

 Daughter of Fate 269

throwing the book on the bed. Archambault followed her, closing

the door behind him.
“Coward!” she shouted. “He won’t even fight for his own honor!”
Archambault spoke quietly, “Elena…”
“They say pirates have no honor!”
“Elena…” a little louder.
“I will rend his heart from his…”
“Elena!” he shouted.
She stopped and turned. He stood in the doorway, his face sober
and stoic. “The Baron has challenged you to a duel.”
“I’ve fought before,” Elena said.
“To the death,” Archambault said.
Elena paused. She raised her chin. “What?” she asked.
“To the death,” Archambault said again.
Elena shook her head. “No,” she said. “That is…no. That is not
acceptable.”
“You accepted the duel,” Archambault said.
“I did not understand,” Elena said. “I was angry.”
“That does not matter now,” Archambault said. “Have you fought
before?”
Elena nodded. “Many times. On the Morning Star, we fought
ATC slavers.” She looked at him. “I’ve spilled my share of blood.”
Archambault watched her closely. “Have you now?”
Elena took a deep breath. She sat on the bed. Almost fell on
it. She looked at the floor. “I have. But…” She looked up. “Never
alone.”
He stepped forward. “You won’t be alone,” he said. “I’ll be there.”
Elena tried to smile. “I made an oath never to kill again,” she
said. “And my anger talked me into a duel to the death.” She put her
head in her hands. “My father’s anger,” she said. “Felice’s anger. It is
in my blood.”
270 John Wick

“Elena,” Archambault said, kneeling in front of her. “Our blood

is not our destiny. We are.”
“Oh,” Elena said, “what you do not know.”
“I could say the same for you,” he answered.
Elena looked up from her hands and saw Archambault. His eyes
full of concern. She smiled.
“What happened to the fop I met in Avalon?” She looked around
the room, playfully. “I think I left him somewhere. Or perhaps he
got lost when we travelled.”
Archambault shook his head. “Non,” he said. He raised his voice.
His gestures became more absurd. “Still he is here,” he said, his
accent more stressed. Comical.
Elena laughed. “You wear a disguise with no disguise,” she said.
“Why is that?”
“I am an ambassador,” he said, “which means I must represent my
king’s interests.”
“But how does pretending to be a fop represent your king’s inter-
ests?” Elena asked.
“It doesn’t,” he said, shifting back into his sober persona. “But it
does mean many in Avalon underestimate and misunderstand me.
Which gives me many opportunities to see and hear things I should
not.”
Elena laughed and put her hands over her lips. “I thought you
were an agent working for Foote.”
“I am,” he said. “But I am also loyal to Montaigne.”
“But not the King of Montaigne,” Elena said.
He shook his head. “No. Not the King of Montaigne.”
Elena took a deep breath. “Loyalties within loyalties,” she said. “I
have not travelled far from Vodacce after all.”
“It is an invisible game,” Archambault said. “A wilderness of
mirrors.” He put his hand on hers. “Impossible to know what is true
 Daughter of Fate 271

and what is illusion.”

Elena shook her head. “I don’t know what to say.”
“I see you’ve been very busy in my library,” he said, gesturing at
the book she threw onto her bed.
“I have,” she said. “You are lucky none of your guests seem to be
interested in reading, or your disguise would slip away.”
He squeezed Elena’s hands in his own. “Elena,” he said. “You are
in grave danger.”
She said, “I know.”
“I did not bring you to Montaigne for this.”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “I thought I knew why you
brought me to Montaigne. But now… I am not so certain.”
“We are to steal a letter from the King.”
“There is another reason,” Elena said. “Isn’t there?”
Archambault raised his chin, just a little. “There is,” he said.
If it is a secret,” she said, “I may be dead in the morning. So there
is no risk in telling me.”
He shook his head. “No. Not yet. I must show you something
first. And the time is not yet ready.” He looked down, then looked
back up at her. “You are a very capable woman, Elena Mondavi,” he
said. “And we need your help.”
We?
“If you tell me now,” she said, “perhaps there will be no reason
for the duel.”
Archambault shook his head. “Non,” he said. “The Emperor has
declared that refusal of a duel after it has been accepted is a crime.
Punishable by death.”
“What sort of nonsense…” Elena began.
Archambault said, “Last week, he made the declaration. Next
week, he may rescind it.”
Elena shook her head. “This is a madhouse,” she said. “Your
272 John Wick

whole nation is a madhouse.”

“I know,” Archambault said. “And we need your help to set it
right.”
We need…
“Tell me, Jean Marie,” she said.
He stood. “Non, it is not the time. Something has not arrived.”
He walked back to the door. “And I must not break my promise.”
He opened the door and stepped half into the corridor. He
paused and turned back. “You are a remarkable woman, Elena
Mondavi.” He closed the door behind him.
 Daughter of Fate 273

5
Pierre woke her before dawn, a bundle of clothes in his arms. Elena
looked them over. They were fighting clothes. Stylish fighting
clothes. Trousers, a loose chemise, leather gloves and boots. And, of
course, a sword belt.
“Thank you, Pierre,” she said.
He bowed and closed the door behind him.
An hour later, she was on the lawn in front of the house. The
grass was wet and the air was chilly. Her breath was mist. She had
tied her hair back in a tight braid. The pants and chemise were a
little loose, but fit.
The Baron was on the lawn as well, standing beside a large man
in similar dress. He stood a full two heads taller than the Baron, his
shoulders wide and arms strong. Hair black and short. Elena looked
him up and down.
He had reach. He had strength. She didn’t know about skill, but
she assumed he must have fought before. The Baron said, “This is
my champion, Olivier.”
Elena gave him a short nod. Olivier did not return it.
Archambault was there with a woman Elena did not recognize.
She was a little taller than Elena, a little thicker. Her blonde hair was
also braided. The woman stood beside a table and on the table were
a number of swords.
Archambault said, “You have both arrived for the duel.” He
turned to look at the Baron. “Do you still demand satisfaction?”
The Baron smirked. “I do,” he said.
Elena asked, “What do you have to lose?”
The blonde woman smirked. The Baron curled his lip. “Insolent
274 John Wick

peasant,” he said to Elena. “You will soon learn the price of inhumility.”
“Inhumility?” Elena asked, almost laughing. She looked at the
blonde. She, too, was smirking. “I think you mean ‘pride,’” Elena said.
“Laugh all you want,” the Baron said. “Soon, you will be weeping
in Hell.”
Archambault said, “If we may choose weapons?”
Olivier and Elena stepped to the table. She wanted to wait, to see
what Olivier would choose. He selected the rapier. Light and quick.
Elena chose the heavier blade, the saber. Olivier laughed.
“A tiny thing like you holding a saber?” he asked.
“It was the closest thing I could find to a cutlass,” she said.
Both of them stepped away, standing at a distance. Archam-
bault looked at Elena, his eyes full of doubt. “Are the duelists ready?”
he asked.
Elena nodded. “I am,” she said. Olivier only nodded.
“To the death, then,” Archambault said.
Elena looked at Olivier. The shimmering strand between them
was red, not black.
Archambault raised a handkerchief, then dropped it.
Olivier charged forward, so fast he nearly knocked Elena over.
She raised the saber up to parry his thrust, knocking his sword out of
the way, stepping to the side to avoid the impact. Olivier went right
by her. She turned quickly and saw him grinning at her.
“Little girl,” he said.
Elena grimaced. This is how it was going to be. Him using his
strength and size against her. Elena resumed the posture St. George
taught her on the Morning Star.
“Amateur,” Olivier said. He swung high. Elena did not parry, she
backed up.
“I will not fall for such an obvious feint,” she said. Then, she
grinned. “An amateur’s feint.”
 Daughter of Fate 275

Olivier growled and charged again. This time, Elena countered

with a thrust of her own, directly at his chest. Olivier stopped his
forward motion, parrying Elena’s blade, sliding steel on steel as the
tip of his rapier rushed toward her throat.
Elena side-stepped, turning away from the duel, throwing her
shoulder in the same direction, aiming her blade at Olivier’s back.
He spun the opposite direction, parrying the slash, then sending
the basket hilt of his sword into Elena’s face. It smashed her cheek
and sent her reeling to the ground.
Elena rolled, the pain digging into her cheek. She had to get back
to her feet. Had to keep away from Olivier until she did. She rolled
in the wet grass until she could get her feet under her, then thrust
herself up.
Olivier was where she left him. He had not moved.
“Silly girl,” he said. “You will learn the mistake of your folly.”
Elena shook her head. “That doesn’t—” She stopped. “Oh, this
is stupid!”
Olivier charged forward again.
Elena looked at him. She grabbed the shimmering red strand
and pulled it. Olivier stumbled forward, nearly falling. Elena slashed
downward on the lighter blade with the saber, breaking it in half.
Olivier’s eyes widened, looking at the broken sword. Elena put
the tip of the saber at his throat. He stood erect.
“Do you yield?” she asked.
“Sorcery!” the Baron shouted. “The woman is a witch!”
With the tip of her sword against Olivier’s throat, Elena asked,
“How can I be a witch if I’m a courtesan?” Then, to Olivier: “Do you
yield?”
Olivier looked into her eyes. He said, with a growl in his voice,
“I yield.”
“No!” the Baron shouted. “No! The woman is a witch! She used
276 John Wick

sorcery! The Emperor’s law strictly forbids the use of sorcery in a

duel!”
He stormed over to Archambault. “As the marshal of this duel, I
demand you make a judgment!”
Archambault looked down at the little man and said, “What did
you see?”
The Baron was fuming now. “I am the Emperor’s cousin!” he
shouted. “I assure you, if you do not call this duel a forfeit, he shall
hear of this!”
The blonde woman spoke up. “Exactly what kind of sorcery did
you see, monsieur?” she asked.
“Vodacce sorcery!” he shouted, pointing at Elena. “It was plain
for all to see!”
The blonde woman said, “The Emperor has forbidden the use of
porté in duels.” She smiled. “He said nothing of anything else.”
Archambault smiled down at the Baron. “Ysault is right,” he said.
“No Montaigne sorcery was used in this duel.”
The Baron threw his fists into the air, stomping his feet. “It’s not
fair!” he shouted. “The Emperor will hear of this!”
“You are the Emperor’s cousin,” Archambault said. “But I am his
ambassador to Avalon.”
“And what exactly does that mean?”
Archambault said, “You are related to him by birth. I am related
to him by choice.” He glanced at Elena, his smile flashing. “Which
of us do you think he will trust more?”
The Baron glared at Archambault for a moment, and then he
spoke, still staring into Archambault’s face.
“Olivier. Prepare the carriage. We are leaving.”
Olivier backed away from Elena’s blade. “Another time, made-
moiselle,” he said.
“Certainly,” Elena said. “I like watching men fight for their
 Daughter of Fate 277

cowardly masters.”
The Baron and Olivier left the field. Elena realized she had been
holding her breath since she asked Olivier to yield. She gasped and
nearly fell over.
Ysault and Archambault rushed forward, but Elena caught
herself. “I am all right,” she said, holding up a hand.
“Mon Dieu!” Ysault said. “That was amazing!”
“Merci,” Elena said. “I do not think we have met.”
“Je m’excuse,” Archambault said. “This is my sister, Ysault.”
Ysault bowed like a man, one hand on her chest and the other
behind her. Elena laughed and did the same.
“I am pleased to meet you,” Elena said.
“Not half as pleased as I am to meet you,” Ysault said.
Elena turned her head, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t understand.”
Archambault said, “Do you remember me telling you I could not
say anything until something arrived?”
Elena nodded. “Yes.”
He gestured to Ysault. “She arrived.”

***

They sat in Elena’s room, a plate of breakfast between them.

Ysault said, “I am going to ask you a difficult question, but I hope
you are honest with me.”
Elena nodded. “I will try.”
“Do you still have the letter Richard gave you?”
Elena was holding a piece of fruit when Ysault asked the ques-
tion. It fell to the plate.
She remembered Richard’s last words. If you meet Ysault…
Elena’s hand covered her mouth. “Dio mio,” she whispered.
“Ysault.”
278 John Wick

Ysault nodded. “Richard,” she said. “Did he give you something?”

Elena felt her heart stop for a moment. She did not know what
to say.
Archambault said, “Elena, it is very important. Did he give you
something?”
Elena nodded, her lips still covered by fingers. “He did,” she said.
Ysault said, “He was one of us. One of the Rilasciare.”
Archambault said, “Ysault!”
Rihl-ah-shee-ahr-ay. Elena did not know the word. Didn’t even
know what language it was.
“She should know! We’re the reason this all happened to her.”
Ysault looked at Elena. “We are smuggling Vodacce women out of
the country,” she said. “We’ve been doing it for years. In your case,
we were hired by Foote on behalf of Derwydden.”
“What?” Elena asked.
“Stop,” Archambault said. “You’re confusing her.”
Ysault said, “Foote wanted to recruit a sorte strega as a spy.”
Elena felt her mouth go dry.
Archambault said, “Stop it, Ysault. Look at her. She doesn’t know
what’s happening.”
Elena raised a hand. “I need…I need a moment to think.”
Ysault apologized. “I’m sorry. I’m…I need to know if Richard…
gave you anything.”
Elena took a breath. “Tell me everything,” she said. “And I will
answer your questions.”
Ysault looked at Archambault. Then, back to Elena.
“All right,” she said. “I’ll tell you everything.”

***

Foote knew what we were doing, Ysault said. I don’t know for how
 Daughter of Fate 279

long, but he knew. He approached Richard first, but not on his own. He
used an agent. The agent showed Richard evidence that frightened him.
A list of every Rilasciare agent in Avalon. That got Richard’s attention.
They set up a meeting. Richard went to the Queen’s castle and spoke to
the man himself.
“I know who you are,” Foote told him. “And I know your agenda. I
could give an order, right now, and all of your friends would be dead
within the hour.”
Foote grinned, his face half-hidden in shadows. “But I do not want
to do that. I’d prefer if you left Avalon. And so, in exchange, you will go
to Vodacce and find a woman for me. If you agree, I will allow all your
friends to leave Avalon’s shores with the understanding none of you will
ever come back.” Then he grinned. “I will allow Archambault to stay. It
is good to keep known enemies close and within sight. And just one of
you can do very little damage.”
Richard knew Foote’s reputation and knew he was capable of the
threat. He agreed.
Foote gave your name. “Bring her to Avalon,” he said. “As we agreed.”
Richard contacted the other Rilasciare in Avalon. How Foote found
them all, we don’t know. Even we don’t know all the others. They met
and agreed they should leave and Richard set off to fulfill his promise.
He traveled to Vodacce and abducted you. He used a Vodacce ship Foote
commissioned to take you back to Avalon. A Vodacce ship. A merce-
nary crew…

***

“After that,” Ysault said, “We don’t know anything. We know

Richard’s ship never made it back to Avalon. Other than that…”
Her voice trailed off.
Elena let the story sink in. Listened to the details.
280 John Wick

“The…Rilasciare,” she said, slowly pronouncing the word. “You

are both Rilasciare?”
Archambault nodded. “We are,” he said.
Elena said, “Foote said he knew your agenda.” She looked at
Archambault. “What is your agenda?”
Archambault and Ysault looked at each other. He said, “Liber-
ating women from Vodacce and undermining the merchant princes’
authority.”
Elena nodded. “All right,” she said. “Then what are you doing
in Avalon?”
Archambault said, “We need resources. Allies. Many in Avalon
are willing to help our cause.”
“But Foote wants you out of the country?” Elena asked.
Ysault nodded. “Because he does not trust us.”
“Why?” Elena asked.
Archambault said, “He thinks we plot against the Queen.”
Elena held up her hands. “Enough,” she said. “Enough.” She sat
still for a moment and the others allowed her the silence.
“I do not want any of this,” Elena said. She looked at Archam-
bault. “None of your plots or your schemes. I want to go back to
Vodacce.”
“You can,” Archambault said. “Tonight, if you wish.”
Elena shook her head. “No,” she said. “I made a promise to
Foote.”
“A promise to Foote?” Ysault said. “Are you serious?”
“I am,” Elena said.
“That man is a serpent,” Ysault said. “Every truth he speaks hides
three lies.”
“That doesn’t matter,” she said. “He promised he would help me
save my family if I did this thing for him.”
“Forget your promise,” Ysault said. “You cannot trust William
 Daughter of Fate 281

Foote.”
“It isn’t a matter of trusting him,” Elena said. “I made a promise.”
She looked at Achambault. “And unlike Montaigne nobles, a pirate
keeps her promise.”
Archambault smiled. “Oui,” he said. “You are unlike us in many
ways.”
“Legion’s fangs!” Ysault said. “Damn Foote and his webs!”
Elena stood from the table and went to her bags. She opened one,
went through the clothes and sundries, then came back to the table,
a sealed envelope in her hand.
“This is what Richard gave me,” she said, handing it to Ysault.
Ysault’s eyes and hands trembled. She reached forward and took
the envelope from Elena.
“Richard,” she said. She bit her lip, trying to hold back her tears.
Elena remembered him then. Tell Ysault... and then his eyes emptied.
“He also asked me to tell you something.”
Ysault looked up, eyes wet and red.
Elena reached out and took Ysault’s hand. “He said he loved you.”
Ysault’s eyes squeezed shut. Elena kissed her hand.
282 John Wick

6
Until a moment ago, Archambault’s home was the largest building
Elena had ever seen. But now, in the carriage, she approached l’Em-
pereur’s castle…and saw it was the size of a small city. She could not
see one end from the other.
The carriage reached the entrance and an entire crew of servants
rushed out to greet them. An entire ship’s crew. At least one hundred
of them. All in uniforms. All with their eyes focused on the ground.
Elena stepped out of the carriage in a dress she bought with Ysault
in Charouse. It cost as much as a ship. Gold and diamonds sewn
into the fabric.
“I cannot wear this,” Elena had said.
“You will look fabulous,” Ysault told her. “And you will catch
l’Empereur’s eye.”
“I will catch a band of thieves and brigands who will kill me just
for the dress!”
Ysault said, “There are no thieves nor brigands in l’Empereur’s
castle.”
“I have met Montaigne nobility,” Elaine said. “There will be
plenty.”
She stepped down the garden, accompanied by a dozen attend-
ees. At the entrance stood a man…
…a man…
Other than his face, she could see no part of his body at all. His
wig was black and curled all the way down his back. A high-rimmed
collar framed his painted face. His lips were red, his cheeks rouge,
the rest of it as white as the fur on his coat. He wore a vest of crimson
and white, his arms lost in the coat’s huge sleeves. White gloves on
 Daughter of Fate 283

his hands. His shoes had heels at least as tall as Elena’s finger. And he
had the most enormous gold cup in his hand. Around his neck were
a dozen gold necklaces. Multiple rings on each finger.
Elena looked at him. And his Arcana was black as the pitch they
used on the Morning Star. Pride was too small a word for him. Vanity
as well. They were pitiful words that rang like broken bells compared
to the aura surrounding him.
Just as the Queen’s Arcana nearly blinded her with its brilliance,
his Arcana seemed to suck her gaze into it, and she felt as if her soul
was being drained. She averted her eyes and looked to the ground.
A man announced, “Behold! The Emperor of the World! King of
Montaigne! King of Castille! Rightful King of Avalon! Protector of
His People! Chosen of Théus! Grand Duke of Charouse! The Arch-
bishop of Montaigne! His Highness Léon Alexandre!”
The Emperor said, “You forgot Enemy of the Adversary, you
clod.” He waved a gloved hand. “But no matter. Who have you
brought me, Ambassador?”
Archambault bowed low and Elena followed his example.
Archambault said, “A most fascinating woman I met in the Court of
Avalon, Your Majesty. May I present Elena della Stella del Mattino.”
The Emperor smiled. “A Vodacce woman, eh?”
Elena remained bowed. “Oui, Votré Majesté.”
“An educated Vodacce woman,” the Emperor said, unable to hide
his glee. “How interesting.” He stepped forward and offered her his
gloved hand. Elena took it and kissed the largest ring.
“I have had three Vodacce wives,” the Emperor said. “All of them
have been unable to produce a male heir.”
Elena said, “Your Majesty must have great difficulty finding a
woman properly suited to himself.”
The Emperor laughed. “Oh, I like this one, Archambault,” he
said. “Let us go in and see if we can find something to eat and you
284 John Wick

can tell me all about your adventures traveling to our fair country.”
Elena bowed a touch lower. “As you wish, Your Majesty.”
He turned on his six inch heel and stepped into the foyer beyond
the door. Elena looked at Archambault. He smiled.

***

The dinner table stretched for what seemed a mile. Elena and
Archambault sat at the end, near the Emperor. Others sat further
away.
“Something to eat” turned out to be a feast that made the dinner
at Archambault’s seem like sea rations. Instead of a single roast duck,
there were twenty-four. Instead of one roast boar, there were twen-
ty-four. It seemed every servant in the world stood at attendance,
ready to jump at any request. And desserts. Seventeen different des-
serts, all for Elena to choose from. All of them unlike anything else
she had ever eaten.
Unlike Archambault’s feast, this one was served all at once. Every
plate put on the table. And the Emperor chose what he wanted first,
then sent the plates down to the other guests. “I find choice to be the
greatest benefit to my appetite,” the Emperor said. “If I know I may
choose from anything, it means I will choose everything.”
Elena smiled. “Your Majesty certainly has an astounding appetite.”
“For more than just food,” he said, his eyes sending more than
suggestions across the table to Elena.
“I understand your wives have been sorte strega,” she said.
The Emperor nodded. “That is correct.”
“But you have not yet met a Vodacce courtesan.”
The Emperor smiled. “Not until today,” he said.
“Then truly, you have not yet met a Vodacce woman,” Elena said,
taking a bite from a dessert, licking her lips as she did.
 Daughter of Fate 285

She saw Archambault’s face from the other side of the table, a
smile on his lips. Well played.
The Emperor laughed, an abrupt sound like a child being tickled.
Elena immediately disliked it. “Apparently, I have not,” he said.
Elena asked, “Where is your wife?” She looked around the room.
“I do not see her.” It was true. For the last hour, Elena had looked for
another sorte strega, but saw none.
“My wife is in elsewhere in the house,” he said. “She does not
enjoy the company of strangers.”
Elena nodded, a teasing frown on her lips. “How sad for her that
she misses such revelry.”
The Emperor’s eyes focused on Elena and did not turn away. She
looked at him and saw the crimson strand forming between them.
She leaned forward. Just enough so he could look down the front
of her dress.
“So much revelry,” she said.
The Emperor smiled, his eyes down below her chin. He declared,
“My stomach is satisfied!” He stood and the servants all ran to his
side. “I will retire to my rooms.” He looked at the oldest servant, a
man with grey hair and a long face. “Make certain my guests make
it to theirs.”
The servant bowed. The Emperor left the room.
“Sil vous plait,” the servant said, bowing to Elena and Archambault.
They both stood and followed the servant from the dining hall.
As they walked, they made sure to be more than a few steps behind
the servant. Archambault looked at Elena with astonishment.
“How did you…” he whispered. “How do you know to…” He
finally stumbled to, “You are a pirate. How in the world do you
know how to act like a courtesan?”
“I was a pirate,” Elena whispered back. “Do you not think I
watched the jennies in the taverns?” She smiled. “I’ve seen women
286 John Wick

from all over the world plying the trade of winning coins from
sailors.” She touched his lips with the tip of her finger. “Don’t you
think I would learn a thing or two?”
Archambault smiled. “You are fascinating.”
“The Emperor certainly thinks so,” Elena said. “Now, all I have to
do is get into his bedchambers.”

***

Before they arrived, Elena sat with Ysault and Archambault in a

small private room in a tavern in the middle of Charouse.
Ysault said, “We know the letter is in his bedchamber.”
Elena asked, “How do you know that?”
“One of the servants is a confidant,” Ysault said. “But we don’t
know where in the bedchamber. It may be in a secret vault. We just
don’t know.”
Archambault said, “We have to get in without anyone knowing
we were there.”
Ysault said, “That is the trick.”
Elena thought for a moment, then said, “Or, we can get in with
everyone knowing we were there.”
Both of them looked at her, confused. “What do you mean?”
Ysault asked.
Elena smiled. “Like this…”

***

Elena heard the sound of her chamber door opening. But it

wasn’t her chamber door. It was a large painting of the Emperor near
the door, on an adjacent wall. A figure in a dressing gown carrying a
candelabra tip-toed across the floor.
 Daughter of Fate 287

She watched the figure and remembered the “discreet door” from
her youth. That thought brought her back to Ignazio. She bit her lip.
Elena sat up in bed. “Who is there?” she asked, almost certain
she already knew the answer.
The man stumbled in the dark, dropping the candelabra. Wax
spilled across the floor, the flames sputtered out. He made a clumsy
sound and staggered back to his feet.
“Who is there?” she asked again, more sternly this time.
“Forgive me,” a voice in the dark said. “But…the Emperor wishes
your company.”
“Does he now?” Elena said. She rose up from the bed and wrapped
a robe around her waist. “Show me the way,” she said.
The man picked up the candelabra and walked back to the paint-
ing. It opened on a hinge, just like a door. Elena stepped up and into
the corridor behind the painting. It clicked behind them, locking
shut. The servant relit the candles—the ones that could be relit—
and walked down the corridor.
The path was dark, but Elena followed the servant. He turned
many times, the walkways like a catacomb. “How do you know
which way to go?” Elena asked. The servant pointed up. She looked
to where he pointed and saw words printed on the ceiling. Direction
signs. She smiled. That meant she would not need to memorize the
way back.
Eventually, they came to a wall. A doorway. The servant turned.
“I may go no further,” he said. He showed her how to open the latch
on the door, then he bid her “Adieu.” He went back down the corri-
dor the way they came, turning at the first opportunity.
Elena hesitated. She lifted her hands and looked at them. The
faux diamond and pearl rings on her fingers were in place. She
pressed the gown down against her body, making sure it showed as
much of her figure as possible. Then, she put a smile on her face. The
288 John Wick

same smile she saw Rosina make when she stood in front of Ignazio.
And she opened the door.

***

The room was brightly lit. An enormous bed in the center, four
posts with thin silk pulled between them. Crimson sheets that Elena
assumed were silk from the East. Another feast on silver platters.
And the man himself seated in a couch just big enough for two, in a
long frock, holding that gigantic golden cup.
“Entre vous,” he said.
Elena stepped through the painting and stepped down to the
floor. Her bare feet cold on the marble floor.
“Merci,” she said. “I hope you will pardon me. My Montaignoise
is very bad.”
The Emperor laughed. “Nonsense. It is better than most of the
peasants who serve me.” He gestured for her to come closer and she
did. He asked, “Where did you learn my language?”
Elena gave a short smile. “A sailor,” she said. “He taught me
many things.”
“I am sure he did,” the Emperor said. “A Montaigne sailor will
be, by nature of his birth, far more sophisticated than a noble from
any other country.”
Elena laughed a little, sitting down on the couch next to the
Emperor.
He gestured at the plates. “I have wine-stewed mushrooms and
oysters. And artichaut.” He gestured to the green, spiny plant that
Elena did not recognize. “Have you seen this before?”
Elena shook her head. “No,” she said. “I have not.”
“It is most delicious and dangerous,” he said. “You must take
care of the spines. But once you pass its defenses, the meat inside is
 Daughter of Fate 289

exquisite.”
Elena said, “I cannot wait to try it. But first, I must admit…I
have had a taste for something since lunch.”
The Emperor grinned widely. “And what might that be?” he asked.
Elena took the cup from his hands and put it to her lips. She
drank from it, looking into his eyes all the while. As she took her lips
from the cup, she said, “Wine.”
The Emperor laughed. “Of course!” he said. “You have been in
Avalon!”
She nodded. “Oui. And they have no idea how to make vino.”
Then, she said, “Vin.”
The Emperor said, “Drink from my cup, Elena of the Morning
Star.”
Elena took another drink of wine. Then, she said. “Shall we
drink together?”
The Emperor said, “From the same cup?”
Elena shook her head. “No,” she said. “I should like my own
cup.”
The Emperor jumped to his feet. “Allow me!” He went to the
silver cart with wine glasses and bottles. He popped the cork on one
bottle and poured it into a glass.
“That one is yours. This one is mine,” Elena said, holding up his
golden cup.
The Emperor looked at her with a smile on his face. “Non,” he
said. “This cup is yours. That one is mine.”
Elena held the cup close to her chest. “No, no,” she said. “I have
it.”
The Emperor returned with the wine glass. He set it on the table
in front of the couch. “It seems we have a disagreement,” he said.
Elena nodded. “We do.”
“I am the Emperor,” he said.
290 John Wick

“And I am the woman the Emperor desires,” she told him. “Which
means, he will be generous so I may be generous in return.”
The Emperor looked at the gold cup. “Not that generous,” he
said, his smile still friendly. He was enjoying the game, but Elena
knew she had to change the rules.
“We shall play a game for it,” she said.
“What sort of game?”
Elena put the cup down on the table, an equal distance from
each of them. “A game we play in Vodacce.” She leaned forward,
touching the Emperor’s face with her finger tips. He reacted, his eyes
widening, nostrils flaring.
“It is called, ‘The Kissing Game.’”
The Emperor’s smile broadened. “I think I will like this game,”
he said.
“We kiss,” she said. “Holding our breath. And whoever must take
a breath first, loses.”
The Emperor said, “I know I will like this game.”
She leaned closer, putting her lips close to his. “Remember the
rule,” she said. “The first breath loses.”
“Any other rules?” he whispered.
She laughed against his lips. “None,” she said. And her lips
plunged down upon his.
Her hands wrapped into his wig and tore it from his head. He
opened his mouth and she teased his lips with her tongue. His hands
reached to her shoulders, trying to pull down her dressing robe.
And when his hands went to her chest, Elena gasped.
The Emperor laughed and embraced her. “Oh, what a wonderful
game!” he said. “Where did you learn it?”
“In Vodacce,” she lied.
They separated and he took the golden cup into his hands.
“Mine!” he said.
 Daughter of Fate 291

Elena nodded, a faux sadness on her lips but laughter in her eyes.
She took the smaller glass of wine. “Mine,” she said.
“Let us toast!” The Emperor put his golden cup against her glass.
“To more games!” he said.
“To more games,” Elena said. And they both drank.
Ten seconds later, the Emperor was unconscious on the floor.

***

Elena rushed to the painting and knocked on the frame three

times. From the inside, she heard a click as it unlocked and Archam-
bault entered through the portal. He carried with him a leather
shoulder case.
He looked at the Emperor, unconscious. “Well done,” he said.
“How did you slip the poison into his drink?”
“A game I learned in a tavern in Castille.” She lifted her left hand
and the secret compartment under the pearl on her ring. “Oldest
Vodacce trick in the book,” she said. “You’re sure the poison will
keep him out for the rest of the night?”
Archambault nodded. “He won’t remember a thing,” he said.
“Let us find this famous letter.”
They began searching. Elena moved to the dresser next to the
bed. Across the room, Archambault began knocking on the walls,
looking for hidden compartments.
“He takes all his correspondence into this room,” Archam-
bault said.
Elena opened the drawer on the dresser. “He could leave through
the secret passage.”
“No,” Archambault said. “He stays in here. Hides them all in the
same place.”
Elena looked down at the drawer. A bundle of letters, all wrapped
292 John Wick

in a lace binding, sat before her.

“He could keep them next to his bed,” Elena said.
Archambault knocked on the wall again and laughed. “Wouldn’t
that be easy?” he asked.
Elena popped up over his shoulder, a bundle of envelopes in her
hand.
Archambault stopped knocking on the wall. “Well,” he said.
“Wouldn’t that be easy?”
Elena smiled and touched his nose with the bundle.
“Excellent,” he said. “Let us get to work.”
From the leather bag, he produced a bottle of ink, a quill, and
sheets of paper. He sat down at the writing desk, set everything in
place, and looked through the letters. He found the envelope he was
looking for. He read it and began transcribing it.
“What is the point of this?” Elena asked. “If you make an exact
copy of the letter, he won’t know it’s gone, but he still has a copy.”
“It won’t be an exact copy,” Archambault said. “It will have very
important errors.”
Elena asked, “So?”
“So if he tries to show it to anyone else, it will be an obvious
fraud.”
Elena smiled. “Well done.”
“Hush now,” he said. “I need to work.”
Elena walked away and sat on the bed. She looked at the Emperor,
face down on the floor.
“L’Empereur du Monde,” she said.
The Emperor snored.

***

Elena found her way through the secret passage toward her room.
 Daughter of Fate 293

She made a couple of wrong turns, but eventually made her way
back. She unlocked the painting, swung it open, and stepped down
onto the marble floor.
A figure was sitting on her bed. A woman’s figure.
Elena slowly closed the painting behind her, eyeing the shadow.
“Who is there?” she asked.
The woman said, “I know what you are.”
Elena took a breath. “You do?” she asked.
The woman stood and walked to the glass doors leading to the
balcony. She split the drapes, letting the moonlight pour in. She was
an older woman, a little grey in her hair. She wore a modest black
dress and she wore a veil over her face.
She spoke again. This time, in Vodacce. The same words “So
casa sei.”
Elena felt a cold chill up her spine.
The Emperor’s wife.
“Do you know me?” the woman asked.
Elena nodded. “I do,” she said.
“Bene,” she said. “I wanted to see you.”
Elena stood perfectly still. Didn’t move a muscle.
“What do you see?” Elena asked.
The woman stood with the moonlight shining behind her, giving
her a silver aura. She said, “I see a whore my husband will play with
for a month or two. Then, he will get bored and throw you out.”
Elena did not know whether to be relieved or terrified.
The woman said, “And after you are gone,” the woman said,
walking forward, “one thing will not change.”
“What is that?” Elena asked.
The woman stepped up to Elena’s toes. Face-to-face.
“I will still be here,” she said. Then, she stepped away from Elena,
unlocked the door, and stepped out into the corridor.
294 John Wick

Elena fell against the painting, breathing a deep sigh, feeling the
tightness rush from her chest.

***

Two days later, in that same small room in that same tavern,
Elena met Archambault and Ysault.
“How did the Emperor take it?” Ysault asked.
Elena smiled. “Rejection is always difficult for men,” she said.
“But I told him he was simply too much for me.” She smiled. “And
that his wife terrified me.”
Archambault laughed. “She terrifies me, too!” he said.
Elena asked, “What is so important about the letter?”
Ysault said, “It is a letter the Queen wrote when she was very
young.”
“A love letter?” Elaine asked.
Archambault nodded. “A love letter.”
Elena shrugged. “So?”
“To whom it is written,” Ysault said, “is the part that matters.”
“And who is that?” Elena asked.
Both of them shook their heads.
Elena crossed her arms. “Fine,” she said. She sat down, grabbed
the bottle of wine and filled a cup. “Are we finished?”
“Almost,” Ysault said. She had a leather case with her, much like
the case Archambault brought with him into the Emperor’s rooms.
She opened it and removed a bundle of papers, tied in a blue ribbon.
She pushed it forward.
“This is everything we know about your family,” she said.
Elena looked at the papers. “Everything…”
“...we know about your family, yes.” Ysault finished. “We have
few spies in Vodacce, but Foote ordered them all to get this to you.”
 Daughter of Fate 295

Elena reached forward and took the papers. She looked at

Archambault and Ysault.
“Merci,” she said.
Archambault nodded. “Prego.”
Elena said, “I am going back to my room. To read this.” She
stood. Ysault stood as well.
“If you need anything,” Ysault said.
Elena nodded and left the room.

***

That night, Elena sat on a bench outside the tavern, looking up

at the evening sky.
Archambault approached her quietly, sitting down beside her.
When she looked at him, she saw he held two glasses. He offered
one of them to her. She nodded and he put it down next to her.
“So much has changed,” she said.
“Which thing are you speaking of?” Archambault asked.
“Everything,” Elena said. “My family. Me. Everything.” She drank
the wine and said nothing. Then, she said, “I was a terrified little girl
when Richard abducted me. Now…”
“We honestly believed you wanted to escape, Elena,” Archam-
bault said.
She nodded, still looking at the sky. “I know,” she said.
“Can you forgive me?”
She turned to look at him. She nodded. “Oui, mon amie,” she
said. Her smile trembling on her lips.
He reached forward, touching her hand. “What are you going
to do next?”
Elena looked up at him. “I am going back to Vodacce to get my
sister away from Villanova.”
296 John Wick

Archambault said, “That is a very dangerous place.”

Elena said, “I know.” She added, “I’m afraid.” She laughed, a tear
running down her cheek. “No,” she admitted. “I’m terrified.”
Archambault squeezed her hand. “You and my sister are the
bravest women I have ever met.”
“Not as brave as a man, though?” she said, smiling at him.
“Braver,” he said. “Do you have a plan?”
Elena nodded. “Yes, but I’ll need some friends to help me.”
“You know I will do anything I can.”
She watched a star streak across the sky, remembering the sailors
making wishes as stars passed over the ship.
She closed her eyes, counted to three, and made a wish.
PART FIVE

Witch
 Daughter of Fate 299

T he sun was in the perfect position when the door opened and
they brought in the chair. The chair was heavy because of the
body tied to it. Giovanni Villanova turned from his canvas. “Put it
there,” he said. He gestured with his brush, his other hand occu-
pied with the palette. By a window in the room, a small girl stood,
shaking with fear.
The three men set the chair where Villanova told them to put it.
It fell with a heavy thunk. The body in the chair squirmed against
the ropes for a moment, then stopped. The three men left the room
and Villanova turned back to his painting, hearing the slight, pan-
icked breathing of the person tied to the chair, a hood thrown over
their head.
“So,” he said. “We meet again.” He looked at the little girl stand-
ing by the window, her eyes and lips quivering. He said to her, “Be
still for a moment, would you?”
The little girl nodded, still shaking.
He put down the brush and the palette, walked to the person
bound in the chair and removed the hood. He smiled down.
“I believe the two of you are acquainted,” he said, gesturing to
the little girl on the other side of the room. He noted the gag. “You
can nod if you like.”
He walked to a small table in the center of the room. Windows
all along the walls filled the room with sunlight. He picked up a
piece of fruit and removed his knife from his belt, cutting the fruit
and eating the slice.
“Before we begin,” he said, still chewing the fruit, “I think it is
important that you understand my philosophy.” He returned to the
300 John Wick

bound chair, pulled up one of his own and sat in front of it. “Because
based on your actions for the last three months, I don’t think you
really understand me at all.”
He cut off another slice of fruit and ate it. “You have been
attempting to sabotage my position in Vodacce, and I think that
if you knew me a little better, you would have thought twice about
doing so.”
The figure in the chair said nothing, only seethed at him.
“You see,” he said, “my philosophy is very simple. If an action
gains me power, I take it. Theft, torture, murder… These things do
not concern me. They are only a means to a greater end. And that
end is my own temporal power.”
The bound figure bit down on the gag.
“If someone costs me power, I have one consideration,” he said.
“Is this person disposable or valuable to me? If they are disposable, I
kill them. If they are valuable, I punish them.”
He smiled. “That is the sum total of my morality.” He ate another
slice of fruit.
“Now,” he said, rising from the chair. “You were once valuable
to me, but I am no longer certain that is the case.” He stepped over
to the little girl standing by the window in the room. “And let me
assure you…this little one…” He ran his oil-stained fingers through
her hair. “…she is disposable.”
The bound figure screamed into the gag.
“You see,” Villanova said. “I do not need to cause you pain. Not
when she is available to me.” He looked at the bound figure. “And
she will not run. Because she knows if she runs, I will make her
watch me murder you.” He made a small circle with his index finger.
“Isn’t that a wonderful little way families bind themselves together in
weakness?”
The bound figure kicked at the chair, feet tied to the legs.
 Daughter of Fate 301

“Don’t,” Villanova said. “Just don’t. There is no escape. And you

are going to tell me everything I want to know.”
Stillness then. A quiet filled the room. Only the wind and the
distant sound of the sea crashing on the shore.
Villanova returned to the chair. “Do you like the portrait?” he
asked. “I think it is one of my finest.” He leaned in close, whispering,
“In my house, I have a great hallway of my victims. If we have time,
I will show you.”
Tears now. Sobbing through the gag.
“Oh, now,” Villanova said. “We don’t want that.” He reached
forward with his knife and cut the gag. “We want you to breathe so
you can talk to me.”
Deep breaths. And eyes looking straight into his.
“Elena,” Villanova said. “I want you to tell me where Archam-
bault and his friends are. Or you will watch me murder your sister.
It’s really that simple.”
Elena’s breath was in staggered gasps. She looked at Villanova,
then looked at her sister.
She said, “I’ll tell you anything you want to hear.”
“Good,” Villanova said, smiling and cheerful. “Let us begin with
three months ago.”
302 John Wick

2
Elena was right. They were in the Atabean Sea.
She found the Morning Star at the Broken Compass. She had to
wait a week for them to arrive, but when she saw Griffin and Veron-
ica come through the door, she stood and smiled.
“Elena!” Veronica shouted. And she ran toward her, slamming her
with an enthusiastic hug. Griffin was not far behind.
Their embrace made her smile, almost cry. When Veronica let go,
Elena wiped at her eyes. “It has been too long,” she said.
“Aye!” Griffin said. “Too long!”
Veronica just looked at her, a wide smile on her lips.
“Bring me the best wine in the house!” Griffin shouted.
“Too late,” Elena said, pointing at a bottle on the table. “I already
bought it.”
Griffin winked at her. “That’s our Elena!” he said, and he hugged
her again. “Let us drink!”
“A drink to old friends!” Veronica said.
“Yes,” Elena said. “To old friends.”
They sat at the table together. The shantyman in the corner
started a song. They sang it along with him. And when the bottle
was gone, Elena bought another one.
When four bottles were on the table, Elena said, “I need your
help.”
Griffin said, “What kind of help?”
Veronica added, “And does it pay?”
Elena asked, “If it didn’t, would you help me anyway?”
Griffin and Veronica looked at each other. Then they turned
back to Elena. “Probably,” Veronica said, smiling.
 Daughter of Fate 303

Griffin reached forward and ruffled her hair. “Of course we

would!”
Elena said, “The Morning Star’s charter clearly says never take a
job without pay.”
Griffin said, “So how much are you paying?”
Elena reached into her cloak and put a purse of coins on the
table. It hit the wood with a heavy sound. So heavy, Griffin’s eyes
opened wide. “Skull and bones,” he said, “what have you been doing
with your time, girl?”
Elena smiled. “A little this, a little that.”
Veronica lifted the bag. “There’s a lot of coin in there,” she said.
“Enough for the crew,” Elena said. “And some extra.”
Veronica opened the bag. She took out two coins and gave one
to Griffin. He held it for a moment, then nodded. Veronica threw
the bag back at Elena.
“Give that to the crew,” Veronica said. She held up her coin. “This
is enough for me.”
“And me,” Griffin said. He bit it and smiled at Elena. “Just
making sure.”

***

Veronica and Elena carried Griffin up to their room. He was

singing a song they didn’t know.
“Where did he learn that?” Elena asked.
Veronica told her, “He had a past before he met you and me.”
“Fair enough.”
They opened the door and threw him down on the bed. He
looked up through bleary eyes. “My two favorite women in the
world!” he said.
“Tell me that in the morning when the wine has left your skull,”
304 John Wick

Elena said.
Veronica hugged her. “Time for bed,” she said.
In the middle of the embrace, Elena tightened her arms. “I
missed you,” she said.
“I missed you,” Veronica told her.
Then, with her heart pounding and her stomach quivering, Elena
said, soft as a whisper, “I love you.”
She felt Veronica’s gasp in her chest. She opened her lips to speak,
but nothing happened.
“I wanted to tell you before we did this stupid thing.”
Veronica pulled away, just a little, so she could face Elena. “I…”
she started.
Elena shook her head. “No,” she said. “I just…wanted you to
know.”
Tears welled up in Veronica’s eyes. Her breath was heavy and fast.
She put a hand over her mouth.
“Yes,” Veronica said. “I…I knew it. I’m sorry. I should have…”
Elena broke away, stepping back. “I’m glad you know,” she said.
“Because I wanted you to know how much you meant to me.”
She turned and rushed back to her room, slamming the door
behind her. She stood with her back to the door, tears rolling down
her cheeks.
It was good Veronica knew. Because after this, it may not matter
at all.
She stepped to the bed, put her hand on the post, and began
pulling off her boots. Then, a knock on the door. Elena blinked and
wiped her eyes. She turned and opened the door.
It was Griffin. Barely able to stand.
“I’m sleeping in here,” he said, stumbling through the door. He
collapsed on Elena’s bed.
“What?” she asked.
 Daughter of Fate 305

“Bed’s too small in here for two people,” he said, his voice muffled
by the pillow.
“What?” Elena asked again.
“Go!” he shouted. “She’s waiting for you.”
Elena paused for a moment, then heard Griffin snoring. She
smiled and went to the bed, pulling the covers over him. She shut
the door behind her.
306 John Wick

3
Villanova smiled. “So, you hired a pirate ship to smuggle you into
Vodacce.” A servant poured wine into his glass. “Not very original,
but effective.”
The servant left the room. Elena stared at him. “You never saw
them coming,” she said.
He nodded. “True, true. I assume they are the ones who have
been raiding my fleets?”
Elena nodded. “That’s right.”
“To provide a distraction for you to sneak into my home and
snatch your sister, I assume?”
She nodded again. “That’s right.”
Villanova stood, went back to the painting. He regarded it for a
moment, then said, “Do you think I should add a dash of color to
your sister’s hair? Where I touched her with my fingers?”
Elena said, “That depends on how authentic you want it to be,
I suppose.”
He looked back at the painting, then at Catarina. He nodded. “I
think I will.”
He picked up the brush and the palette. “Please,” he said.
“Continue.”
Elena said, “It wasn’t enough just to rescue my sister,” she said.
“Something had to be done about my brother.”
“The cripple,” Villanova said. “Yes. You can’t leave him here now,
can you? Not after you steal your sister. Your father would be power-
less to protect him.” He dabbed a bit of color on Catarina’s hair. “So.
What was your solution?”
“You already know,” Elena said.
 Daughter of Fate 307

“Yes,” Villanova said. “But I want to know all of it.”

***

Elena stood over her mother’s grave, flowers in her hands. She
put the flowers down, next to the headstone.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I should have come sooner.”
The moon hid behind clouds. Elena looked up and saw her
family home, the windows dark. Beside her was Long Tall Harry.
He put flowers down, too.
“Thank you, Harry,” Elena said.
He touched the tip of his hat.
“Come on,” she said. “Let’s go see my father.”
They moved across the yard quietly, moving low. Elena knew
the guards were inside and not outside. Her father was protected by
Villanova’s reputation; he had no use for an external watch.
When they reached the wall of the house, Harry leapt up, grab-
bing a small fault in the stone. He climbed fast, using every tiny
crevice as a foot hold or a finger hold. He reached the top window,
a tiny little thing. Elena remembered it. It was so small, she could
barely fit her head through it, let alone her shoulders. Harry held
on with one hand while his other hand opened the window. Before
Elena could breathe, the window was open and Harry had slithered
through it. Harry, who was three feet taller than she was. Like a
snake, through the window.
A moment later, she stood in front of the door. Harry opened it
from the inside and gestured for her to enter. “Welcome home, Miss
Mondavi,” he said.
“Thank you, Harry,” she said, and stepped into the house.
In so many stories, she read how others came back to their child-
hood home and found it smaller. Elena looked around and nodded.
308 John Wick

Yes. It was.
“I found your father’s guards,” he whispered. “They are asleep.
Still, we should do something about them.”
Elena nodded. “Yes,” she said. “We should.”
Three guards. Harry and Elena dispatched them quickly with
blackjacks, knots, and gags. “Go tell the others we’re ready,” she
told Harry.
Harry shook his head. “Sorry, ma’am. I was told to stay with you
and send the signal when…”
“Harry,” she said. “Go to the balcony. Light the signal.”
Harry bit his lip, chewed on his beard, his eyes concerned. “All
right, Miss Mondavi,” he said.
“And how many times do I have to tell you to call me Elena,” she
said. “We’re not on the ship.”
“I don’t know, Miss Mondavi,” Harry said. “But I’ll let you know
when we get there.” He rushed off to the balcony, grabbing a cande-
labra on the way.
Elena turned back into the house.
She moved to the stairs, climbing them one by one. They creaked
under her footsteps. Finally, she came to the upper floor.
Ignazio first, she decided.
She touched the knob to his room. It turned easily in her hand.
She opened the door and saw her brother, sleeping in his bed. She
knelt beside him, touching his cheek.
His eyes opened, startled. She put her hand on his shoulder.
“Shhh!” she whispered. “Sono io.”
Her brother’s eyes shifted from startled to surprised. “Elena?”
he asked.
She nodded. “Si, mio fratello.”
He tried shaking the sleep from his head. “What are you doing
here?”
 Daughter of Fate 309

“Taking our family somewhere else,” she said. “Somewhere safe.”

“You can’t do that!” he whispered. “Father will…”
“Father isn’t going with us,” she said.
Ignazio’s eyes began to focus and he took a breath. “What?” he
asked. “What does that mean?”
“Ignazio,” she whispered. “I am taking our family far from here. I
have a ship and a crew.”
“A ship?” he asked. “What?”
“And coins,” she said. “We can go anywhere in the world, Ignazio.
Out of Villanova’s shadow for good.”
He looked up at her, his eyes showed disbelief. “Anywhere?”
he asked.
“Anywhere,” she said.
He looked at the window. Then, back at Elena. “I cannot go,”
he said.
She couldn’t believe what she heard. “Yes, you can.”
He shook his head. “No, Elena. I cannot. Father will die here
without my help.”
“Ignazio,” she said, “he sold me. And Catarina. Like we were one
of his cows.”
“He did it to protect you,” Ignazio said. “Don’t you see that?”
Elena said, “No. To protect…?”
“He sold everything to pay for your dowry,” he said. “So you could
live under the protection of the most powerful man in Vodacce.”
“As a slave,” Elena said.
“No,” her brother said. “As a wife.”
Elena said, “Ignazio. I have seen slavery. I have seen it with
my own eyes.” She raised her hands to his face. “These hands have
broken their chains. Ignazio, the women of Vodacce are nothing
more than property.”
“Who is that?” a stern voice called from the doorway.
310 John Wick

Elena turned and saw her father standing there. His black hair
was mostly gray now. His powerful chin faded. His sharp eyes a
little dulled.
“Padre,” Elena said.
Elena’s father peered into the dim room. “Elena?”
She nodded. “Si. Sono io.”

***

“Tell me,” Villanova said, standing in front of Catarina’s portrait.

“What was it like seeing your father again?”
“His presence. Standing there. I was nearly as tall as him, still
smaller, even though his own frame had diminished.” Elena said,
“Just his presence was enough to put fear in my heart.”
Villanova nodded and smiled. “So it is always with children and
their fathers.” He paused and turned to her. “That is why I killed
mine. I didn’t want there to be anything in the world that I feared.”
He turned back to the painting. “Go on,” he said.

***

Elena’s father trembled, his face twisted with confusion and rage.
“We thought you were dead!” he said.
“I am,” she said. “Dead to you, Father.”
Ignazio said her name but she ignored him.
“You treated me like cattle,” she said. “And Catarina.”
“How dare you speak to me that way!” he said. “I am your father!”
“Yes!” Elena said. “And you should have protected us!”
“I did protect you!” he said. “I found you a wealthy husband. I
put you in a position to be safe for the rest of your lives!”
“No!” Elena shouted.
 Daughter of Fate 311

“Yes,” he said. “You don’t understand, Elena. You would have

lived under the protection of the most powerful man in Vodacce.”
Her brother’s words coming from her father’s lips. She turned
back to Ignazio. She saw him lying in his bed, his body so fragile. So
weak. All his life, wanting to protect the honor of his father.
“I have seen the whole world, Ignazio,” she said. “And you have
seen only this.”
She felt her father’s arms wrap around her, lifting her from the
floor. “Guards!” he shouted. “Guards!”
Elena threw her elbow into his ribs. He dropped her and she
turned around, smacking his face with the back of her hand. He fell
to the floor, grasping at his face, his face full of surprise.
“Never touch me again!” she said.
Her father looked at her with wide eyes. Fearful eyes.
“You are not my daughter,” he said. Blood on his lips. “You are
a demon!”
“I am Elena Stella del Mattino,” she said. “I am not a demon, but
I am also no longer your daughter.”
Her father ran from the room, shouting for the guards. Elena
turned back to Ignazio.
“Mio fratello,” she said, kneeling down beside him.
“If you are not my father’s daughter,” he said, “then you are not
my sister.”
Elena felt her heart sink. “Ignazio,” she said. Tears welling up in
her eyes.
“Go!” he said. “Leave us!” He turned away from her, hiding his
own tears. He put his arm over his face. “GO!” he screamed again.
“I’m not leaving without you,” she said. “You or Catarina.”
He threw his arm away and faced her. “Catarina is not here!” he
shouted. “She is with Villanova!”
Elena blinked. “What?”
312 John Wick

“That was part of the wedding agreement. Villanova said Father

was incapable of protecting one daughter, so he would protect the
other!”
From behind her, Elena heard familiar footfalls. Sailors from the
Morning Star, ready to raid the household for anything they could
carry. As Elena promised.
Elena did not turn, but said to the sailors in the corridor, “My
father will find the guards bound and gagged. Make sure he does
not free them.”
She heard St. George say, “Aye, Miss Mondavi.” Then she heard
them making their way through the house.
Her brother looked at her, his eyes confused. “What…what have
you become?”
“I am many things, Ignazio,” she said. “But tonight, I am a pirate.
I am going to take what I want. I will leave enough for Father to
survive, but no more.”
Then she pleaded, “Come with me. Please.” Her tears began
again. “I can show you the crystal blue waters of the Atabean Sea.
We can taste fruits you have never seen before. The roast pig of La
Bucca.” She smiled and sniffed. “You and I, we can live like kings
and queens only dream of living. In a land where there are no kings.
Only free men and women.” She touched his legs. “Where a man is
not thought of as half a man, just because he cannot walk.”
She put her hand on his chest. “Ignazio,” she said. “I gave you
this wound. Please help me heal it.”
Ignazio looked at his legs where her hand touched them. Then,
with moonlight in his eyes, he reached up and touched the tears on
her cheek.
“You have become Elena the Pirate.”
“Sí,” she said, crying and laughing.
“My sister,” he said. “My little raven.”
 Daughter of Fate 313

She kissed him. “Always.”

314 John Wick

4
The sun was low now, casting long purple light. Elena looked out the
window. Villanova ate dinner.
“Your brother was reluctant at first?” he asked, chewing on steak.
Elena nodded. “At first,” she said.
“What about your father?” he asked, cutting another bite from
the meat.
“Ignazio would not go without him,” she said. “So, I brought
him.”
Villanova laughed. “He must have complained the whole way.”
Elena nodded, smiling. “He did. Until we ran into your spies.”
“And my right arm,” Villanova said.
Elena glared at him. “And your right arm.”

***

Elena’s father shouted, “This is ridiculous!”

Two sailors carried him—bound hand and foot—down to the
shore. As Villanova suggested, he complained all the way.
“Put me down, you sons of whores!”
St. George said, “Your father is not a pleasant man.”
Elena nodded. “He never was.”
Nearby, Bloody Nose Bob pushed Ignazio’s chair. Elena looked
at him, bundled in a blanket, shivering. He looked so fragile.
“When we get him to the Atabean,” she said to St. George, “I
want Old Avielle to look at him.”
“She can cure anything,” St. George said. “I hear say once she
brought a man back from the dead.”
 Daughter of Fate 315

Elena laughed. “I don’t believe that.”

“Believe what you want,” he said. “Avielle can cure any…” He
stopped. Raised a hand and whistled.
The sailors all stopped.
Elena whispered, “What is it?”
St. George looked around. An empty plain with high grasses, as
high as their hips. Trees far to the north, near the house. The shore
just a little further down the southern path.
“We are not alone here,” he said.
Just then, figures in black leapt up from the tall grasses. They
carried curved swords, slicing with deadly speed. Two of the sailors
fell into pools of blood.
“To arms!” St. George shouted, drawing his sword.
Elena drew hers just as one of the masked assassins fell on her,
knocking her to the ground. Her blade stopped the blade a hair
from her nose.
Elena pushed, knocking the assassin back. He spun in the air,
landing on his feet. She struggled to push herself up and he was
on her, forcing her to parry his strike from a kneeling position. He
countered, twisting the blade in his hand and she parried again. But
the third blow struck, hitting her just under the left elbow.
The wound burned and stung. Elena took a step back, her head
suddenly dizzy.
“Poison!” she shouted. “They’re using poisoned blades!”
The assassin charged again, swinging high. Elena ducked to the
side; as the assassin went by, she cut him deep in the chest. Her blade
caught on bone and she pulled, spilling blood. The assassin stumbled
forward…then fell.
Elena reached down for his sword and put it in her right hand,
changing the cutlass to the left. She looked up and saw St. George
cut one of them down. But there were more assassins than sailors.
316 John Wick

And her brother was—

—the chair was knocked over and his body spilled on the ground.
“Ignazio!” she shouted, running to him. An assassin tried to cut
her off, but she parried his blade and cut with the poison scimitar,
leaving him behind.
She shouted Ignazio’s name again, reaching the fallen chair.
“Ignazio?” she asked, kneeling down.
“I’m all right,” he muttered. “See to Father.”
Elena put the poison scimitar in his hand. “Take this,” she said.
She leapt to her feet and ran through the high grass toward the last
place she saw her father.

***

“What was going through your mind, just then?” Villanova asked.
He was seated in front of her again, drinking a sweet dessert wine.
“I wasn’t thinking,” she said. “I only wanted to protect my father.”
“Even after everything he put you through?” Villanova asked.
“Yes,” she said.
He shook his head. “Why?”
Elena said it plainly. “Because Ignazio told me to.”

***

The tall grasses cut at her wrists and knuckles. She saw one of
the sailors carrying her father fighting three assassins. When she got
there, there were only three assassins.
Elena stood beside her father’s prone body.
“Elena!” he shouted.
One assassin rushed in and Elena raised her sword to parry, but
felt a burning, stinging slice on her back. She fell forward, onto her
 Daughter of Fate 317

hands and knees. They were fighting as a group. One distracts while
the other strikes.
Elena pushed herself forward, barely avoiding an intended fatal
blow. She rolled onto her feet. One of the assassins grabbed her
father. She reached into her belt and drew her pistol.
Her father shouted, “No! Elena!”
She squeezed the trigger. The assassin fell to the ground, drop-
ping her father to the ground as well.
Her fingers were tingling. So were her toes. The poison sinking
into her bloodstream.
The two assassins moved apart, flanking her. Elena knew she
couldn’t let that happen. She kept her hand tight on the pistol and
her sword and charged one of them. He parried her blade but the
butt of her pistol smashed against his face. She spun about fast,
swinging her sword. It made a clang as it parried the other assassin’s
blade, sending a painful vibration up her arm, causing her to drop
the sword.
The assassin did not hesitate. He swung his blade at Elena’s head.
She ducked, spun her leg against his knees and knocked him to the
ground. Then, she clubbed the front of his face with her pistol. His
hands went limp, his eyes shut.
Elena blinked. Her vision was blurring. She looked up and saw
St. George fighting with four assassins. She grabbed another scimitar
and rushed to his back.
“St. George!” she shouted, tossing the sword. He spun, parrying a
blow, caught the sword and put his own blade through an assassin’s
chest. Then, as if he were dancing to a tune in his own head, he
sliced the face of a second assassin with the scimitar, bashed a third
with the pommel of his cutlass, and disarmed the fourth assassin,
landing both blades on the shoulders and throat of the fourth.
“Surrender,” St. George said.
318 John Wick

The assassin shook his head. “The Old Man on the Mountain
will carry me into Heaven! And you will be my servant, Ifri scum!”
St. George’s hands tightened on the swords, but Elena shouted,
“Wait!”
She limped to the assassin. “Do you know who I am?” she asked.
The assassin only looked at St. George, saying nothing.
Elena grabbed the assassin’s mask and pulled it down. The man
had grey eyes, painted black. His lips were painted as well.
“I am Elena Stella del Mattino,” she said. “A sorte strega.”
The man’s eyes turned from St. George to her.
“That’s right,” she said. “You know what that means, don’t you?”
“You are a witch,” the assassin said. “Unholy and unclean. Tainted
by Hell!”
“Yes,” Elena said. She could not feel her hands now. And her heart
was pounding fast. “That’s exactly what I am. And I can steal your
soul with a kiss.”
She watched the assassin’s eyes shake.
“You will not be in Paradise,” she said. “You will be with me, in
Hell. And I am the Devil’s Concubine.”
Elena leaned close to him. “Oh, the things I will do to you,”
she whispered.
“No!” the assassin shouted. He looked at St. George. “Ifri! Save
me from the witch!”
“Give me the antidote to the poison,” Elena said. “Or I will drag
you down to Hell with me.”
“It is here!” he said. “In my belt! Please! Take it!”
Elena reached into his belt and found a small pouch. She opened
it and found it was full of dust.
“Mix it with drink!” he said. “You will live! Please!”
Elena tightened the strands on the pouch and told St. George,
“Don’t let him move.”
 Daughter of Fate 319

St. George said, “Not unless it’s to go to Hell.” And he winked

at her.
Elena took a water skin from one of the fallen sailors. She opened
it, poured the water in her mouth. Then, she poured the antidote in
as well. She swished them both together, and swallowed.
Nothing happened. Elena knew the antidote would take time to
work, and in that long moment, she watched the assassin.
“If I fall…” she said.
St. George responded, “So shall he.”
Another moment. Then another. Then, finally, the burning pain
in her limbs began to fade. But the bleeding pain remained. She
would need the ship’s doctor when they arrived at the shore.
She walked back to St. George. “Were you struck?” she asked.
He shook his head. “It does not matter. Their feeble poison
cannot harm me.”
Elena nodded. “I believe you could fight through any army, all
on your own, St. George.”
He kept his eyes on the assassin and said, “Aye. But every man
can use a friend to watch his back.”
320 John Wick

5
“The Old Man on the Mountain will be disappointed his assassins
failed,” Villanova said.
“From what I’ve heard about him,” Elena told him, “I think
you’re wrong.”
He shrugged. “It is a philosophical disagreement I do not wish
to pursue.” Then he asked, “When you learned I was holding your
sister, what did you think?”
Elena said, “That I would need a plan that would fool a man
such as yourself.”
Villanova smiled. “You flatter me!”
She shook her head. “I only speak the truth. The most power-
ful man in Vodacce. Cunning. Brilliant. Resourceful. An impossible
task. Breaking into his castle, stealing something he values.”
Villanova nodded. “Yes,” he said. “Your friends did their best,
but I’m afraid they failed just as the Old Man’s assassins failed.”
Elena frowned. “So it seems.”
Villanova said, “Now, tell me what happened next.”
Elena said, “You know.”
“Tell me,” he said. “Or your sister suffers.”
Elena took a deep breath.
“Do not leave out any details,” Villanova said. “This is the part I
want to relish.”

***

“Only me,” Elena said. Standing in the Captain’s cabin with

Griffin, Veronica, and St. George. “No others.”
 Daughter of Fate 321

St. George shook his head. “It is a daring plan,” he said. “But
very dangerous.”
Elena nodded. “It has to be this way to work,” she said. “It’s the
only way we can get me and my sister out.”
Griffin nodded. “I agree. But…I don’t like it.”
Veronica didn’t say anything. She only looked at the map of Vil-
lanova’s castle and kept her eyes low.
“It won’t work with more than just me and Catarina,” Elena said.
Finally, Veronica said, “You’re right.” She looked up from the
map at the others. “Elena is right.”
Elena pointed at the map. “Cannons here. Pull their guards to
the west. I’ll enter from the south.” She looked at Griffin. “Harry
can get me up the wall.”
“He can,” Griffin said. “That man could climb a sheer wall of ice.”
“Once inside, I’ll give the signal when I’m ready. Then…”
“If you live that long,” Veronica said. “If Villanova doesn’t kill
you first.”
Elena said, “He won’t.”
Veronica said, “Make sure he doesn’t.”

***

Harry dropped the rope from a window near the top of the tall
wall. The Morning Star’s cannons roaring on the other side of the
castle. Elena climbed up fast and met Harry at the window.
“Get back to the ship,” she said. “I’ll meet you back there.”
“Good luck. I’d give you a good luck kiss,” Harry said. “But I’m
not a fate witch.”
Elena kissed his lips. “A kiss from a sailor is good enough for me.”
Harry tipped his hat. “Elena,” he said. Then he slid down the
wall with one hand on the rope.
322 John Wick

She moved into the castle, the map fresh in her mind. Down
the corridor, up the stairs. Behind doors when guards ran by. So far,
so good.
Elena was getting closer to Catarina’s room. Just a little further.
An old wooden spiral stairway. A short corridor and turn to the left.
Ducking behind a corner to dodge another group of guards. And
then, into the corridor above the great hall. On her left, a banister
overlooking the hall and on the right, a large wooden door with…
…Elena stopped.
The room marked on the map. Leaning on it was Felice.
“Ciao, sorella,” he said.
“Fuh-Felice?” Elena’s body would not move. Her limbs frozen.
He pushed himself off the door.
“Well, well, well,” he said. “You are willing to acknowledge that
I exist.”
“Felice,” Elena said. “What are you doing here?”
“After Father disowned me, I had to find some way to make a
living.” He drew his sword. “Villanova took me in.”
Elena shook her head. “No,” she said. She took a step back.
Lifting her leg as if it were a thousand pounds. “You…you can’t be
with him.”
“And why not?” Felice asked, his sword shining in the torch light.
“Father would not take me back. I was a disgrace.” He spit the next
words. “He preferred a crippled son to me.”
Elena stepped back again. “Felice…please. I’m here for Catarina.”
“I know,” Felice said. “So does Villanova.” He smiled. “That’s why
I’m here.”
“Wh—what?”
“Your pirate friends have been after his fleets for months,” Felice
said. “Did you think the most capable man in Vodacce would allow
 Daughter of Fate 323

that?” He took another step, swung the sword in front of him. “He
discovered who you were in days. He’s just been waiting for you to
show your face.”
“Felice,” Elena said. His sword was close. Closer. She drew her
own. “Don’t…”
He laughed. “The little raven is going to fight me?” He thrust his
sword forward with a playful motion. Elena bashed it away with an
awkward one. “Do you really know how to use that?” he asked. “My
little raven?”
He thrust again. Elena bashed the sword away.
“I am not your little raven,” she said. “Not anymore.”
Felice stopped his forward motion. His smile shining in the
shadows playing across his face. “Prove it,” he said. And he attacked.
Elena parried the thrust, countering with a riposte toward
Felice’s sword hand. The blade caught his flesh and he stepped back,
pulling his hand up. He looked at the wound on the back of his
hand. Looked at Elena.
“The raven has grown claws,” he said.
“Felice. Stop,” Elena pleaded. “We can leave. All of us.”
Felice shook his head. “No. I have wealth. And respect. The
respect of the most powerful man in Vodacce.” He smiled at her.
“Something Ignazio will never have.”
He attacked again. Elena parried, tried another riposte. He
blocked it and shoved the blade forward, smashing Elena’s face with
the pommel of his sword.
Elena fell back, clutching at the wall, trying not to fall down.
Felice laughed at her. “A woman with a sword,” he said.
Elena regained her footing. “I am taking Catarina,” she said.
“You will have to kill me,” Felice said.
Elena shook her head. “I will not.”
Felice feinted and Elena took the bait. Then, he cut low, slicing
324 John Wick

her leg. Elena screamed, reaching down with her empty hand at
the wound. He thrust again, but she parried. He pushed his blade
against hers, pushing her back. She reached out to the banister,
holding the wooden beam for support.
“Either I will kill you or you will kill me,” he said. “Those are the
only outcomes here.”
“I will not kill you,” she said.
“Then you will die, sister.” And his free hand swung up at her left
eye. Elena ducked, twisted, and slashed at his abdomen. The blade
caught and Elena pulled, running the blade across his belly.
Felice fell backwards, his hand grasping the wound. He looked
down and saw blood on his hand. He laughed.
“Pain means nothing to me, Elena,” he said. “Pain or death.” He
stepped forward again, the point of his sword aimed at her heart.
“Do you know how many I have killed for him? Tortured?”
Elena shook her head. “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “I came here
for Catarina and I vowed to rescue her or die.” She blinked pain and
sweat away from her eyes. “Now that you are here…I will rescue
you as well.”
“Or die?” Felice asked.
Elena nodded. “Or die.”
Felice smiled. “So be it,” he said. And charged.
His strike was wild and undisciplined. Elena dodged it, putting
her back against the wall. She put her feet on the banister and kicked,
flipping over Felice’s head. She landed behind him and slashed at
his back.
Her blade stuck true and Felice fell forward into the wooden
banister. Elena heard the wood crack and he fell further.
Over the edge of the balcony and toward the floor.
“No!” Elena screamed. Her brother tumbling through the air.
She looked. Then she grabbed the strand between them.
 Daughter of Fate 325

Felice stopped in mid-air. His body facing toward the ceiling,

looking up at her.
The strand cut her. She felt the ice cold razor cutting into her
skin, felt the blood oozing between her fingers.
Felice looked up at her. His eyes wide with fear.
“Elena,” he said, lips trembling.
“I’ve got you,” she said. But the pain was growing. So cold, it
numbed her grip. “Felice…” she said. “I’ve got you.”
He looked up at her. “Elena,” he said. “I…don’t…”
She nodded. “It’s all right,” she said, her voice straining. She
didn’t know what to do. She could not let go of him. She didn’t
know if she had the strength to pull. “It’s all right,” she said.
“Elena,” he said again. “Please.”
“I’m taking you home,” Elena said. “We’re all leaving.”
“Father?” he asked. “Ignazio?”
“They forgive you,” she said. Tears in her eyes. “Felice, they
forgive you.”
Felice grimaced. “I have done…terrible things.”
Her voice choked. “I forgive you.”
Far below her, Felice smiled.
And then, something struck Elena behind the ear. She lost her
grip. Fell forward.
And she saw her brother fall to the floor of the great hall, his
body smashing against the stone floor.
She tried to scream, but she couldn’t move her lips. All she could
do was watch Felice’s broken body far below her as the light slowly
left her eyes.
“How touching,” a voice said behind her.
And she knew the voice. Remembered it from when she was a
girl. It haunted her for years in nightmares.
“Villanova,” she whispered.
326 John Wick

And all the light was gone.

***

“You killed him,” Elena said.

Villanova sat in front of her, the sky almost completely dark. “I
did,” he said, sipping his wine. “And soon, I will kill your friends.”
Elena shook her head. “You think I will marry your son?” she
asked. “After you killed my brother?”
“If you don’t,” he said, “I will kill your sister.”
Elena backed into the chair, her jaw tight.
“I have been aware of your friends for some time,” Villanova said.
“And their schemes to overthrow myself and the other princes.”
“How?” Elena asked. “If you don’t mind me asking.”
He made a dismissive gesture. “Their secret is not so secret.” He
rose, walked back to the painting. “I have found most people do
not know how to keep a secret. Once they learn it, they are eager to
tell someone. To gloat. ‘I know something you don’t! Here! Let me
prove it!’”
He turned to look at Elena. “That sort of thing, you know?”
Elena nodded. “Yes,” she said. “I do know.”
“I think after I am done painting your sister,” he said, “I shall
paint you. Hang your pictures together.” He nodded, thoughtfully.
“Yes, I think that will be…”
“I have a secret,” Elena said.
That caught Villanova’s interest. “Oh?” he said. “Is it a secret you
hope will spare your life or your sister’s life?”
Elena shook her head. “No,” she said. “But I want to share it
anyway.”
Villanova smiled, put down his wine cup, and walked back to the
chair sitting in front of her. “Why tell me a secret when you have
 Daughter of Fate 327

nothing to gain from it?”

“To gloat,” Elena said. “To show you that I know something you
do not know.”
Villanova waved his finger, as a teacher chastises a student. “Now,
now, now,” he said. “Not all secrets are valuable.”
“This one is,” Elena said. “At this moment, I think it is the most
important secret in the world.”
Villanova smiled and took his seat. “Very well then,” he said.
“Tell me your secret, Elena.”
Elena smiled. “While I was telling you my story, I was buying
time.”
Villanova’s smile faded into a scowl.
“To untie one of my hands,” Elena said.
Villanova felt his ears pop, smelled something like rotten meat
and lemons, and there was a flash in his eyes.
And there, standing beside Elena, a hand on her shoulder, was a
man dressed in a green coat and matching trousers, holding a pistol
at Villanova’s head.
“Bonjour,” he said. “Please allow me to introduce myself. I am the
foreign factor you did not count on.”

***

Villanova sat in the chair that once held Elena, his hands bound.
He watched Elena holding her sister, kissing her head. Then, he
looked at the Montaigne fop holding the pistol at his.
“Archambault, I assume,” Villanova said.
“You assume correctly,” Archambault said.
“I assume Elena’s time at sea taught her how to untie ropes,” Vil-
lanova said.
Archambault nodded. “You would be correct.”
328 John Wick

“And she pulled the strand connecting both of you.”

“Right again.”
“The signal for you to bring yourself to her. You marked some-
thing on her before she left. Something on her dress, perhaps?”
“Close enough,” Archambault said.
“A contingency in case she couldn’t get out on her own?”
“You are a very clever man.”
“You are a very dead man,” Villanova said. He looked at Elena
and sneered, “All of you. You are all dead.”
Elena walked back to Villanova, holding her sister’s hand. “What
did you say to me?” Elena asked.
Villanova said, “You have just gone to the top of a very short list.
A list of people I would spend resources and power to kill.”
Elena tilted her head. Then, she took one of the pistols from
Archambault’s belt. She put the barrel against his chest.
“You leave me no reason to keep you alive, Giovanni Villanova.”
Villanova smiled. “Go on,” he said. “Pull the trigger. You know
exactly what will happen if you kill a defenseless man.” His smile
broadened. “Exactly what happened to your brother, Felice.”
Elena’s finger trembled on the trigger.
Villanova said, “You watched his Arcana, didn’t you? The
moment it happened. Watched it turn from a shimmering bright
light to a darkness so black, your eyes could sink into it.”
Elena felt her hand pull the pistol away from his chest.
“Your brother was a valuable asset to me,” he said. “His knife took
many lives. And his Arcana was as black as mine.”
Elena asked, “Not in the end.”
Villanova laughed. “You can run,” he said. “Run as far as you
want. I will find you. And when I do, I will pull your sister’s lungs
from her body as you watch.”
Elena smashed the butt of the pistol against Villanova’s face. His
 Daughter of Fate 329

nose twisted, blood spurting onto his lips and chin.

“You cannot kill me, Elena Mondavi,” he said. “Which means
one day, I will kill you.”
Elena glared at him, her eyes full of anger.
“Elena?” Catarina asked. “I’m afraid.”
Archambault said, “It is all right, little one. He cannot hurt you
anymore.”
Villanova looked at Catarina. “He is wrong. I will find you. And
I will cut your throat and—”
Elena struck him again. This time, cutting his cheek.
Villanova laughed. “I will kill all of you. Each and every—”
Archambault pulled a handkerchief around Villanova’s mouth,
tying it behind the back of his head. “Enough of that, I think,”
he said.
But Villanova’s eyes still spoke to Elena.
There is nothing you can do…
Elena gave the pistol back to Archambault. Then, she put one
leg on either side of Villanova’s hips and sat in his lap. She placed
her hands on either side of his face. And put her lips close to his
bloody lips.
“Listen well, Giovanni Villanova,” she said.
And she kissed him. A slight cut appeared on her finger.
“I give you my curse, Giovanni Villanova.”
And she kissed him. A deeper wound. On her wrist.
“A curse that you will carry into every court, Giovanni Villanova.”
And she kissed him. A deeper wound. On the back of her hand.
“A curse so terrible, you will humiliate yourself wherever you go,
Giovanni Villanova.”
And she kissed him. An ugly gash on her cheek, just under her eye.
“You see my wounds?” she asked. “The pain I take is the pain I
give, Giovanni Villanova.”
330 John Wick

And she kissed him.

“For you, Giovanni Villanova.”
And she kissed him.
“Giovanni Villanova.”
And she kissed him.
“All for you, Giovanni Villanova.”
And she kissed him.
And through it all, he glared at her with a hate as black as
his Arcana.
Villanova’s spies last saw Elena Mondavi in Montaigne.
However, despite his best efforts, her current location remains unknown.