“And the current highest bidder, having already placed a sealed, unconditional offer, is… Master Renoa Cavis.”
Ziya stared, horrified. Renoa. Her savior. Was he her new owner?
Her gaze snapped to him, finding him calm, almost serene, amidst the murmurs that rippled through the auction hall. His golden eyes, usually full of careless amusement, now held a deep, unreadable glint. Her heart pulsed a furious rhythm against her ribs. Was this his grand play to rule her life?
“Renoa,” she hissed, her voice barely a thread, but sharp enough to pierce the hum of the crowd. “What did you do?”
He didn’t flinch. Instead, he reached out, his long fingers closing around her arm just above the elbow, a proprietary gesture that sent a confusing warmth through her skin, even as fury roiled in her gut. “It’s exactly as I said, Ziya. I’m securing your future.” His voice was low, for her ears only, but held an iron certainty that made her hackles rise.
“My future?” Her voice climbed, attracting a few curious glances. “You bought my guild! You bought my entire life’s work!”
Before Renoa could respond, a new voice, laced with bitter venom, cut through the space between them. “Cavis, you preening peacock. Always sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”
Orenzo Pel stood a few feet away, his face a mask of purple-tinged rage. His pale, fuming fiancée clung to his arm. The public humiliation of the Siren’s Tear auction had clearly not settled well. A squad of burly, uniformed retainers had gathered behind him, their fingers twitching over holstered sidearms.
“Pel,” Renoa said, his tone dismissive, but his grip on Ziya’s arm tightened almost imperceptibly. “Don’t you have a wedding to plan? Perhaps practice losing gracefully.”
Orenzo’s jaw worked. “You think you can just swoop in and steal what’s mine? First my pearl, then my fiancée’s necklace, and now… her guild?” He gestured wildly at Ziya. “She was destined to be swallowed up by my holdings. A lovely little bonus for my portfolio.”
A thin film of ice seemed to coat Ziya's spine. So it was true. Orenzo had been planning her guild’s downfall all along. And Renoa had known. He’d known, and he’d used it as leverage.
“Hardly ‘yours’, Pel,” Renoa countered, his voice losing its playful edge, becoming something hard and dangerous. “And as for her being ‘swallowed up’… I believe I just saved her from that particular fate. You’re welcome.”
“You arrogant bastard!” Orenzo roared, his composure snapping. “Enforcers! Get them out of here. And confiscate that deed. It’s an illegal acquisition!”
The hirelings surged forward. Ziya cursed under her breath. This was Miralba’s high society for you: a public auction could devolve into a brawl in moments. Renoa stepped slightly in front of her, shielding her with his body. He hadn’t even let go of her arm. His free hand swept outwards, a brief, unseen pulse of energy rippling through the air. The two lead men stumbled, their feet suddenly tangled, toppling into the red velvet ropes separating the bidding tiers.
“Honestly, Pel,” Renoa drawled, a smirk returning to his lips, though his eyes remained sharp. “Your security budget is clearly lacking.”
More armed sentries rushed from side corridors, iron batons raised. The auctioneer, a portly man with a florid face, squeaked in terror and dove behind his podium. The refined crowd scattered, a flurry of expensive silks and shocked exclamations.
“We need to go,” Ziya said, pulling at Renoa’s arm. She could handle a street fight, but not against a dozen armed men in a gilded cage. She already had a plan forming, a route through the side exits, the labyrinthine service passages.
Just as the first sentry raised his stun-rod, glass and carved cedar erupted inward from the main entrance. A blast of sea-scented air rushed in, carrying with it the unmistakable scent of burning oil and ozone.
“Ziya! Renoa! Get in, losers, we’re going shopping for chaos!”
Through the gaping hole where the main glass doors had been, Brio appeared. He wasn't on foot, or even steering a common water-skiff. He was at the helm of a sleek, custom-built amphibious craft, all polished steel and dark, shimmering hull. It looked suspiciously like the prized, one-of-a-kind skiff Orenzo had exhibited at the docks just last week. The vehicle, clearly designed for both water and land, had its land-mode wheels deployed, currently churning up shards of glass and marble dust.
“Brio!” Ziya yelled, a burst of hysterical laughter escaping her. “Is that Orenzo’s…?”
“He won’t be needing it anymore!” Brio shrieked back, his wild red hair flying. “Full speed ahead to freedom!” He slammed a lever, and the chassis lurched forward, twin impellers kicking up grit as Orenzo's retainers scattered like startled gulls.
Renoa didn’t hesitate. He practically scooped Ziya up, his arm around her waist, and propelled her towards the open hatch of the stolen vehicle. They tumbled inside just as Brio slammed the hatch shut, the sounds of shouting and alarm bells fading behind them.
The stolen cabin, surprisingly spacious within, rumbled violently. Ziya scrambled to a seat, laughing breathlessly. “Brio, you absolute madman! How did you even…?”
“Details, details!” Brio hollered, wrestling with the controls. The craft burst out of the hall, smashing through a decorative stone archway, and plunged into the nearest canal. The wheels retracted with a hydraulic hiss, and the propellers roared to life, churning the emerald water into a frothing wake.
“Hold on!” Renoa’s voice was sharp. He was already scanning their surroundings, his earlier calm replaced by a fierce focus. He still hadn't released Ziya, his fingers digging into her hip as the hull skidded around a tight bend, grazing a moored pleasure barge.
Behind them, the shouts intensified, followed by the distant wail of Siren Guard alarms. Orenzo’s pursuers were not giving up. Ziya glanced back to see two sleek, black interceptor skiffs cutting through the swell, gaining fast. One of them had a grappling harpoon launcher mounted on its bow.
“They’re gaining!” she shouted over the turbine. “Brio, step on it!”
“Already doing my best, boss!” Brio yelled back, his eyes alight with manic glee. He swung the rudder, veering into a shallow channel that wound through the Sapphire Estates. “Time for some shortcuts!”
The shortcut involved a series of small, ornamental bridges and, to Ziya’s horror and amusement, several meticulously maintained decorative fountains. The amphibious craft, built for swagger rather than civil transit, plowed straight through them. Water sprayed everywhere, marble cherubs lost limbs, and indignant shouts followed in their wake.
Renoa, somehow, remained unruffled. He pulled off his exquisitely tailored blazer, a garment that probably cost more than Ziya’s entire guildhall, and began to expertly swat away the debris – shattered ceramics, flying leaves, even a small, indignant goldfish – that came flying into the open hatch. His movements were precise, almost elegant, for a man swatting fish with designer clothing.
A barbed iron hook shot out from the lead craft, biting into their stern with a metallic thunk. “They’re trying to board us!” Ziya cried, pulling out her own relic-hunter’s knife, its blade glinting.
Renoa threw his blazer aside, his movements suddenly devoid of all pretense. He moved with a speed Ziya hadn’t truly witnessed before. A pulse of violet light flared from his hand, striking the grappling line. The line snapped in a puff of acrid smoke, dropping the hook into the brine as the chaser veered wildly to avoid collision.
“Ziya!” Renoa’s voice cut through the mechanical roar as he leaned in, his stare unwavering. “I bought the deed to shield you, not run you! Orenzo had sealed bids from three predatory syndicates! They would have carved your guild apart!”
His words, shouted amidst the chaos, hit her with the force of a physical blow. The blurring line between their fake arrangement and something far more real shimmered, then threatened to disappear entirely. His eyes, fixed on hers, held a fierce honesty that made her heart ache. Protection. Not control. Could it be true?
Before she could process the revelation, a sickening lurch threw them forward. The deck bucked violently. A shower of orange sparks erupted from the motor housing, coughing up black smoke.
“Uh oh,” Brio muttered, his voice dropping. “The motor's cooking. Might have pushed it past the redline.”
The rumble died into a screech of warped gears. The hull lost speed, drifting without purchase.
And then, the sound of rushing water. A deep, thunderous roar that grew louder and louder. Ziya jerked her chin up, skin prickling with dread. The canal ahead didn’t just continue; it ended. It plunged downwards, a sheer, terrifying waterfall dropping hundreds of feet into the murky, crowded lower slums of the city.
“Brio!” she screamed. “The brakes! Anything!”
“It’s too late, boss!” Brio yelled, his face now truly pale. “We’re going over!”
Their remaining momentum carried the vessel straight toward the lip. The bow tipped downwards, and the entire vessel began to slide, faster and faster, over the precipice. Ziya felt the sickening drop in her stomach, the rush of wind in her ears, as they plunged headlong into the abyss below. The manifold cracked with a final, deafening blast, spitting brass screws and steam as they launched into open sky.