by Sarah Ahiers
“Me?”
“He is too kind to you. He thinks if he is kind, then people will like him. And if they like him, they won’t leave. But that is not the way of things. You are a flame and he is a moth, drawn to you, unaware if he gets too close you will burn him up.”
He’d struck dangerously close to my own thoughts regarding Les. But I wasn’t the only one to blame. “And you? You’ve given him a sword and taught him only enough to be dangerous with it, but not when to back away.”
“Things were fine before you arrived,” he countered.
“Were they? You never fought about it? You never threatened to leave, never held that over his head?”
Marcello was silent. He couldn’t deny it.
I sighed. “Truly, Uncle, we’re both at fault.”
He nodded slowly. “We’re Saldanas. Sooner or later we destroy the ones we love. Come, let’s pour you a bath.”
He walked behind the fireplace to another section of the room. Maybe he was right. It would be cruel, abandoning Les when he’d already lost so much. But I couldn’t stand the thought of someone else dead because of me. And I couldn’t let the Da Vias get away with what they’d done.
No. I had to continue with my plan. It was kill or be killed. If I did die, hopefully any grief Les felt would be lessened by the knowledge that I’d died on my own terms, confronting the Da Vias instead of waiting for them to take me in the night.
Still, I thought about Rafeo and my Family. My uncle wasn’t wrong. Living, being the person who stayed behind while those you loved left, was not an easy path to take. Not at all.
Marcello and Les had a large copper tub hidden behind the fireplace. It didn’t take long for Marcello to fill it, and while the water was lukewarm at best, the closeness of the hearth heated the tub and the water the longer I sat inside.
Before I climbed in, Marcello disappeared and returned with a stack of folded papers.
“Here.” He handed them to me. “These are some of the letters your mother sent me.”
I took them gently. Marcello left me to my privacy and I climbed into the tub, careful to keep the letters dry.
I could feel my mother in each piece of paper, sense her spirit as she chose what words to tell my uncle.
I read of her happiness when my brothers and I were each born, how eager she was to expand the Family. And her pride at Rafeo’s marriage and the birth of Emile.
And then a final letter of grief, describing the plague that had swept the city, telling of the deaths in the Family, the loss of Jesep’s parents, who I realized Marcello would have known, would have loved. Jesep’s mother was my father and Marcello’s younger sister. And Rafeo’s wife, taken by the sickness just when it seemed it had finally abated.
The Family had been so weakened, she wrote, she didn’t know how we would ever recover. And we hadn’t, of course. The Da Vias took advantage of our weakness and destroyed us when we were too few to stop them.
Throughout the letters, though, my mother spoke of her love and pride in her children. How, even when Rafeo joked too much, he could always make her laugh. How Matteo’s almost blind devotion to tradition and rules made him a precise and proficient clipper. And how my willful nature and stubbornness expressed itself in loyalty to the ones I loved.
The last line was brief. Just a mention of me, earning my mask, and how proud she was, and how she knew someday I would be the best clipper of them all if I could focus on what was important.
I turned the letter over, but that was all.
I set the letters on the floor and sank below the water. My mother had never spoken such words to me. She’d never told me how proud she was, and yet the letters had been filled with the eloquence of her love for me and my brothers. For our Family.
My heart and stomach twisted around each other, squeezing me with pain until I popped out of the water, choking for breath. It was an ugly trick of fate, to learn of my mother’s love for me only after she’d left me behind.
I scrubbed at my hair and my skin, cleaning every inch until my flesh was pink and sore before I climbed out of the water.
Marcello had given me Les’s clothing, a cotton shirt and pair of pants, to wear. Though they were freshly cleaned and folded, they still smelled like him. I held the shirt to my face, breathing in his cinnamon scent.
I had to roll up the pant legs and the sleeves and they were still too large, but the garments were clean and comfortable and I was happy to have them.
On the other side of the fire, my uncle slept in his chair. I let him rest, walking quietly past the tapestries blocking off the bedroom.
Les slept on his side, the blanket pushed below his arms, his dark, wavy hair resting on his shoulders.
I sat on the floor against the bed, my back to Les. I closed my eyes.
How had things gotten so confusing? It shouldn’t have been this way. I should’ve gotten the information I needed, killed the Da Vias, and been done with it all, one way or another. But instead my uncle had told me the truth about our Family, and with Les, I had found something to ease my pain.
I closed my eyes against the tears falling down my cheeks. I was so tired of crying, and yet I couldn’t seem to stop. I couldn’t seem to do anything right. I wished Safraella would tell me which path to take.
“Don’t cry, Clipper Girl,” Les said quietly. He shifted in his bed and brushed my hair behind my ears.
I rubbed the tears off my cheeks and faced him. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
He smiled tiredly. “Master said I needed to be wakened anyway.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’m sorry I got you hurt.”
“It’s not your fault. I was in the way. I should’ve trusted you knew what was best in the fight.”
“I should’ve trusted you to help,” I said. “I should’ve trusted you.”
“It doesn’t matter.” He closed his eyes and yawned, then shifted deeper into his pillow. His breath came slower as he sank toward sleep.
“Les,” I whispered.
“Hmm?” he answered, barely awake.
“What does kalla mean?”
He gave a little smile. “Beautiful.”
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
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twenty-eight
MARCELLO THRUST A STEAMING CUP OF TEA INTO MY hands. “Drink this.”
I’d fallen asleep on the couch in front of the fireplace. I sat up, brushing my hair off my face. My bones and joints ached, both from the uncomfortable couch and from the fight. It would be a couple of days at least before I could move without pain.
I sniffed the tea, then sipped tentatively. It was bitter and strong, but the warmth spread through my chest and limbs and soothed some of my aches.
“I’ve cleaned your leathers,” he said, watching me drink. “When you’re done with your tea, you should leave.”
I finished the tea in a single, scalding gulp. “What time is it?” I asked, trying to cool my tongue.
“Past midnight. You’ll be safe to return unseen to wherever you’re staying.”
“You let me sleep so long?”
“You needed the sleep.”
I nodded. He handed me my leathers, and I walked behind the hearth to change. When I came out, he passed me my mask. It had been cleaned of dirt and blood, and I slipped it to the top of my head.
I glanced toward the bedroom and the tapestries. It was dark and quiet.
I’d made a decision before I’d fallen asleep. My stomach fluttered, seemingly warring with itself. It was easier this way, leaving without saying good-bye to Les. But a part of me, a very large part, had hoped he’d be awake. For what purpose, though, I couldn’t say. Maybe he’d try to stop me, or force me to stay, or just make things different, somehow.
But Les was asleep. And things couldn’t be different.
“You shouldn’t see him anymore,” Marcello said.
I closed my eyes. I couldn’t argue against Marcello’s opinion. Matters were only going to get worse. And in her letters my mother said I’d needed to focus on what was important. I had to focus on killing the Da Vias.
“Under two conditions,” I said.
Marcello narrowed his eyes.
“The first is you have to finish his training. If you don’t, he’ll get himself killed and it will have nothing to do with me. He thinks you’ll leave him if he argues too much about it, and that’s not fair to him.”
Marcello glowered, but then nodded.
“The second is the location of the Da Vias’ Family home. I need it.”
“No.” Marcello sliced the air between us with his hand, a gesture I’d seen from Les. “I will not be responsible for your suicide.”
“You could come with me. The last of the Saldanas together.”
“Alessio would come after us.”
“Then I can’t leave Yvain. Not without the location of the Da Vias’ home. And they’re already coming for me. It’s only a matter of time before they find me here. If you give me the location, I can get ahead of them, I can plan an attack instead of simply waiting to defend myself. If you give me the location, I will leave, and you and Alessio will be safe.”
“You could flee. Give up on this ludicrous plan of yours. Revenge will not bring you peace. Revenge will not bring your Family back. I know this firsthand.”
Marcello had succeeded at his revenge, had killed those who had killed Savio, his lover. So he had no right to try and convince me of another path.
“This is what I must do,” I said. “There is no other way out for me. I do not seek peace. My peace died with my Family. I seek vengeance and I will have it, or die trying.”
Marcello’s shoulders slumped, and I could see his mind working. He knew the Da Vias coming to Yvain would be just as dangerous to him, and by association, Les. And the only way to be rid of them was to lure them away with me.
He walked into a back room. A moment later he returned with a key similar to my own. He handed it to me. “This is the key they used years ago. I don’t know if it will still work, but it’s all I have to give you.”
“How do I find them? Where is their home?”
“There’s an entrance in the north part of the city, at a restaurant. It’s been too long and I don’t recall the name.”
A restaurant. The Da Vias owned two restaurants in the north part of Ravenna: Fabricio’s and Luca. I had a hard time believing Val would bring me to dine at a restaurant that housed the entrance to his Family’s home, but he was also cocky and self-assured. Either way, I would check them both and see what I could find.
I clenched the key in my fist. “Thank you, Uncle.”
“Do not thank me. I take no joy in sending the last of my family to her death. But what’s a little more shame heaped onto an old man who’s spent his life drowning in it?”
“I go to end my own shame, Uncle.” I pulled my mask over my face and left him in his home beneath the streets.
I climbed to the roofs of the city, my body complaining with every inch.
The night was quiet as I jumped and scaled my way toward my safe house. The moon had crossed most of the sky. It wouldn’t be long before morning. I could leave Yvain with the sunrise.
Three things I’d needed before I could leave: the location of the Da Vias’ home, the working firebomb, and help from Marcello. I had all but the last.
It had to be enough. I couldn’t wait anymore, and Les was right, I hadn’t persuaded Marcello. And I could no longer fool my conscience by saying I didn’t care if I brought Les with me and he died. Because I did care. Somehow he had worked his way under my skin. Seeing him injured made me realize how much it would matter to me if I got him killed for my vengeance. He had helped me for no other reason than that it was the right thing to do. And now it was my turn to do the right thing and keep him out of my plan, keep him safe and alive here in Yvain with my uncle.
The only deaths I wanted on my hands now were the Da Vias’.
On my roof I collected and stored the weapons we’d abandoned. I placed Les’s cutter and other tools in a corner under some burlap to keep them safe and easy for him to find later. I stared at the hole leading down to my little home in Yvain.
It was better this way. It would be easier to forget about Les, to go home and finish what I’d started. What the Da Vias had started. Even if he’d secretly been calling me beautiful.
I couldn’t go inside yet. I needed more air.
I raced across the roofs of the city, the Yvain skyline lovely and still in the darkness of the early morning hours. I needed to move, feel my muscles stretch and burn in pain. I needed to focus on that so I wouldn’t think about anything else. So I wouldn’t think about anyone else. So I wouldn’t think.
But I couldn’t outrun my thoughts forever. When I was forced to slow, clutching my hand to my ribs to ease the stitch that had grown there, my thoughts appeared right where I’d left them.
I balanced on the edge of a roof, gazing at a canal that lazily swirled below me, a boat moored to the building, and a stone bridge connecting one side of the canal to the other.
Below, a man approached the canal. It was early for a commoner to be out. Maybe he didn’t fear the ghosts.
He stopped at the edge of the water. He clutched something in his hand. A wooden staff. I blinked and peered closer. A tall, cylindrical hat rested on his head.
It couldn’t be possible, and yet this was the same man I’d seen at Fabricio’s with Val the night of the fire. He stood here, in Yvain, in the night.
Behind me, something crunched on the dirt of the roof. I turned.
Two men, both in leathers, their masks hidden in the shadow of the chimney they stood beside.
They glanced at each other, then stepped closer. Their masks came into view. One had swirls and the other grape leaves. Both patterns were the color of blood.
The Da Vias had found me.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
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twenty-nine
I DIDN’T RECOGNIZE THEIR INDIVIDUAL MASKS. RAFEO would have. He would have known instantly who stood before me, but there were over fifty Da Via clippers and I’d never been able to memorize every mask. These were probably some of Val’s cousins, sent here to look for me. Maybe they were the only ones. Or maybe there were more.
It didn’t really matter unless I came out the victor in this confrontation.
Three choices: I could run, I could hide, I could fight.
None of those options gave me a high chance of success.
Grape Leaves shifted his weight. The time for planning was over. I’d have to react now and hope it was enough.
“We didn’t expect it would be so easy to find you,” Grape Leaves said. He was tall and thin and had a rope wrapped around his shoulders and waist, one end tapered with a heavy stone weight, the other tied in a noose. “Of course, you made it easy, running around the rooftops like some sort of cat in heat.”
I shrugged, using the movement to rest my hands closer to my sword and a dagger on my left. I’d learned my lesson about going anywhere unarmed.
The Da Via clippers saw the true intention behind my shrug and tensed.
“Honestly,” I said. “The night air felt good. Attracting your attention was not a concern of mine. You didn’t even cross my mind.”
Swirls shifted his stance and glanced at Grape Leaves before returning to me.
“You’re not Rafeo,” he said, his voice higher than his partner’s.
My cloak had hidden my shape from them. I inclined my head. “Very astute. Would you like a medal?”
They stared at me, making quiet decisions behind their masks. I shuffled through the possibilities. They could be planning an attack. They could be thinking of calling for reinforcements. Maybe they’d let me go, now that the
y knew I wasn’t Rafeo.
I grimaced behind my mask. There was no way in hells they would let me go, no matter who wore Rafeo’s mask.
“Though the Addamos pointed us to Yvain, it seems they’ve lied to us,” Grape Leaves said.
“I doubt they did it on purpose,” I answered. “They didn’t seem to be the quickest larks.”
Swirls brought his hand to his sword hilt and I reacted by unsheathing mine, loosening my wrist with a quick twist of the blade. I wouldn’t let them take me unprepared. “Did they tell you how easily I dealt with them?” I asked. “Did they tell you how many of their dead and injured I left behind?”
“They didn’t tell us a great many things, it appears,” Grape Leaves said. “And because of that, I’ll be on my way with a new message for the Family. But don’t worry, Lea Saldana. Nik here can handle you all by himself.”
Swirls unsheathed his own sword while Grape Leaves bowed and turned his back on me, trusting his partner’s ability to handle things.
I didn’t know anything about Nik Da Via. I didn’t know where he stood based on skill. He could be showy or swift. Arrogant or quietly self-assured.
I did know, however, that I was unrested and sore from my fight the night before and I hadn’t eaten anything in almost a full day. I didn’t have much to give. I had to end this fight quickly. The longer I took, the better the chances I’d wind up dead. And I didn’t want to die. Not yet.
Nik rushed me, and all thoughts disappeared as I adjusted my stance to defend myself.
He feinted to the left, but I didn’t fall for it. I turned left too and swiped for his neck with my sword. He bent backward, flipping over completely. He kicked his leg at me. I jerked aside.
On his feet once more, Nik rushed me again, wasting no time. He attacked with exaggerated sword strokes, forcing me to block them or risk losing my head. I gave ground on the roof, sliding closer to the edge and the canal waiting below. He couldn’t keep up these frantic attacks. They would drain him. But he might keep them up longer than I could defend against them. Every move I made sent a rush of pain pulsing through my muscles. Before long, Nik would notice I was injured and press me even harder. I needed to do something.