The scent of the river washed over him in the seconds before he charged out of the alley’s shadows and back into the golden afternoon light. He skidded out of the alley and to the side, out of view from the other end, and took stock of where he’d come out.

“Señor?”

Perhaps some would think it an outstanding coincidence that one of his grandfather’s men stood on a barge not ten yards from where Drake had emerged. He knew, rather, that it would have been far stranger had any of the docks here on the Bilbao la Vieja not had one of Abuelo’s barges at it.

The only thing particularly notable was that it was Eneko who stood there with his pole already in hand. His grandfather’s most trusted employee. His mother’s childhood friend. The man least likely to cause him any trouble by saying too much to Abuelo.

Drake hurried over and dropped onto the barge. “Vamonos.”

Eneko muttered something incomprehensible and poled away from the dock. Once they were drifting in the lazy current, the man turned glinting brown eyes on him. “And why were you among the foundries today, Don Dragón? You told your abuelo you were attending classes.”

Drake cleared his throat and offered no more than a Spanish um. “A ver . . .”

At that equivocation, Eneko shook his head, still more brown than grey. “If you ask me, you are a dragon who needs your wings clipped.”

If only he had some—that would certainly make it easier to fly away from trouble. And a bit of fire-breathing wouldn’t hurt either. Drake laughed and grabbed the second pole. Best to get them across the river as quickly as possible—and out of range of the German’s pistol.

5

Are you certain you want to join us?” Margot hung back near the church’s front step with Dot as Maman chatted with a few friends from the parish. They’d only discovered two weeks ago that they, in fact, attended Mass at the same time and place as her new friend . . . but Dot had always found a seat in the back, and Maman always led Margot to the front.

Dot drew in a breath that shook a bit around the edges, but she smiled and nodded. “It’s been ages since I’ve enjoyed Sunday dinner with anyone. And it was so kind of your brother and sister-in-law to invite me.”

Kindness had little to do with it. Lukas had been so impressed that Margot had actually made a friend her own age—more or less—that he’d been hounding her all month to “get the girl here so we can get to know her better.”

Maman had chided him for his incredulity. And Lukas had laughed and said, “I was beginning to think my little sister was actually a forty-year-old man, given her choice of companions.”