by Sarah Ahiers
“What about them?”
“All those people made angry ghosts.” I shook my head. “Because one woman was spurned by a man she never even loved.”
Behind the Da Vias, a flash of white appeared, then vanished. Les and Marcello shifted beside me. They’d seen it too.
Allegra stirred in her sling and whimpered.
Claudia pushed aside her brother and pointed at me. “Is that my daughter?”
I looked at Allegra, and she calmed. “No. She’s a Saldana now.”
Val grabbed Claudia’s wrist as she rushed at me, holding her back. She swung her hand at Val, trying to strike him across the face. He ducked his head aside.
Another white flash appeared behind them again. Closer this time. Then another.
“Claudia, don’t,” Val said. “She’s been resurrected by a god.”
“I don’t care! She has my daughter!”
“I don’t care either,” said Estella. “Kill them. Kill all three of them.”
The Da Vias moved toward us.
“You should care!” I yelled. They paused.
“And why is that, Oleander Saldana?” Estella snapped.
“The city wall outside your house is crumbled,” I said.
“The entire city is surrounded by crumbling walls.”
“But you’ve forsaken Safraella, which means you’ve given up Her protection. She’s revoked it from your house.”
Behind them, more flashes of light appeared, and a few of the Da Vias finally noticed them.
“And I brought the angry dead with us.”
One of the Da Vias shouted. She shoved past her Family, trying to escape. More of them turned to see what had frightened her, and then the room filled with screams as they tried to run from the angry ghosts that poured their way inside the house, coming from the courtyard that led to the dead plains.
The Da Vias had turned from Safraella, and now She’d turned from them.
The ghosts, close to forty of them, screamed louder than the Da Vias as they chased after the living. Some of the Da Vias, in their mad fright, fought back, swinging their swords or daggers at the apparitions. The ghosts latched onto their flesh and peeled their souls from their bodies.
Chaos. Chaos everywhere. A ghost came too close to Les and was repelled. It crashed into a Da Via who’d almost made it out of the great room. Marcello snatched up Emile, then stayed as close to Les as he could. Cries bounced off the marble columns. Ghosts shrieked. Da Vias died.
Val, Claudia, and Estella stood together in the center of the room, trapped by the pandemonium surrounding them.
“Lea!” Val shouted, panic in his eyes as he dodged a ghost. “Help me!”
A ghost rushed at me but met Safraella’s barrier. It recoiled, crashing into Estella. It knocked her soul completely out of her body. A ghostly version of the head of the Da Via Family floated in shock. Her body flopped about as the ghost tried to gain control of it.
Claudia shrieked. She and Val stumbled away as Estella’s ghost tried to fight for ownership of her flesh.
“Just run!” I shouted at Val.
He glanced at me, then back at Estella. He grabbed Claudia’s hand and took off, dragging her behind him.
I didn’t wait to see if he made it out of the room. We walked toward the exit, the surviving Da Vias too busy trying to remain alive to pay us any mind.
Estella’s body reared up as we passed. I placed my hand on its neck, ejecting the ghost from her body.
Estella tried to climb back into her body, but there were other ghosts willing to fight her for it. We continued on our way, out of the great hall, down the stairs and outside. A ghost tried to follow us, but Safraella’s protection remained over the rest of the city. She had removed it only from the DaVias home.
Many of the Da Vias had been ripped from their bodies. Some would vanish, to meet Safraella and face Her judgment, but others might become angry ghosts, as Lefevre had.
It didn’t really matter. I’d done what Safraella had asked of me. And I’d done what I knew in my heart was right. I’d saved Marcello and Emile and Allegra. I’d saved my family this time.
The ghosts could take the rest.
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forty-three
I SLID OPEN THE SECRET ALCOVE AND STARED AT THE candles hidden inside. The candle with the black ribbon still stood tall. I picked it up. He’d left the Saldana candle among the others.
I lit the wick and slid the alcove shut before taking a seat. I didn’t have to wait long.
The king walked into the room and sat across from me. I slipped off my mask and set it on the desk, rubbing my face.
“Are they all dead?” he asked, his voice emotionless.
“No. Surely some escaped. But Estella is. Perhaps a new head will steer them straight.”
He blinked and took a deep breath. “I was told . . . Well. I was told a lot of things about what happened last night and I’m not sure which, if any, are true.”
“What would you like to know?”
He picked up my mask, turning it in his hand. “You have a new mask.”
“It was a gift from Her.”
“And you truly used ghosts as weapons?”
I shrugged. “It wasn’t as easy as all that.”
He handed the mask back to me, and I placed it on the top of my head.
“How did the ghosts even get in? Surely my protection—”
“Was revoked from the Da Vias by Safraella. They were taking coin falsely from the people of Ravenna. She removed any protection on their home. The crumbled walls allowed the ghosts inside their house. You needn’t worry about the rest of the country. Your protection will remain as long as your faith is strong, but I would make sure the people know not to use the Da Vias’ services until they have once again proven themselves worthy of Her. The people of Ravenna can trust the Caffarellis. Or the Maiettas, if they must.”
He nodded. I’d been so angry when he’d refused to help me. But he was the head of a Family too, the entire kingdom, and sometimes we had to give up what we wanted for the greater good of those we were responsible for.
Maybe it had taken me too long to realize this.
“You’ll rebuild your home, then?” he asked. “Try to earn back your rank?”
I shook my head. “No. We won’t be staying. There’s no place for us here. Not now. Maybe never again.”
He shifted in his seat before leaning forward. “Don’t you think it would be best if you stayed in Lovero?”
“I’m the head of the Family now. I decide what’s best.” I stood.
“For what it’s worth, Lea, I’m sorry. That it came to this.”
“Me too,” I said. “Me too.”
I left the king in his secret room. Whether he kept the black candle in the alcove or removed it was up to him.
I didn’t look back.
The sun had risen by the time I rode Butters back to Lilyan. I pulled off my mask and tied it to my belt. The last time I’d felt Loveran sun on my face had been after the fire. It was nice to feel it now, with my heart lighter.
I made my way to the inn where Les and Marcello were waiting for me with their horses.
Outside, a figure stood on a roof, his face covered by a mask of purple flames. He raised his hand. I nodded and he vanished.
“Friend of yours?” Marcello pulled himself into the saddle of the horse we’d found for him. Les lifted Emile to sit in front of my uncle.
I took Allegra from Les, tying her sling around my chest. “So it seems.”
“Well.” Les nudged his horse beside me. “Where to, then?”
“Yvain,” I said. “At least for now. From there? Wherever we want. A traveler boy once told me that not everyone is lucky enough to get a fresh start.”
“Ah.” Les smiled. “And was this traveler boy dangerously handsome?”
“And quick on his feet?”
“Not just his feet.” I leaned closer to him.
“Maybe I should be jealous.” Les reached for me, drawing me closer for a kiss.
Allegra stirred in her sling, then opened her eyes and watched us. Les pulled away. “Was it worth it?” he asked.
“What?”
“Your family. Was it worth it?”
“Dying for?”
He nodded.
My family had been murdered, and it had been partially my fault. They’d left me alone to avenge them, to do right by them and by our Family. They could never be replaced.
But here I was, surrounded by a new family. The children of my brothers. An uncle who often seemed to despise me as much as care for me, and a fake clipper I’d found on the foreign streets of Yvain. But these descriptions didn’t encompass who they were, what they’d come to mean to me. Emile had clutched that knife in his hands because he trusted me to take care of him. My uncle had rescued an orphaned boy from the streets before the ghosts could find him. And Les . . . Les had given me a reason to live again, in more than one way.
Trusting the wrong people had gotten my family killed. But trusting the right people had returned it to me again. Jewelry and dresses and feathered masks were beautiful things, but so were good food and sleep, family and friends, love and letting go. I would never again have the family I’d lost, or the beautiful things that were taken from me. But maybe I could start again with this new family and see where it would lead. Maybe Les had been right. Maybe Family wasn’t stronger than family. And maybe family was what we made of it.
Was that worth dying for?
“Yes,” I answered. “A thousand times yes.”
Les laughed, and I joined in. Marcello scowled at us as we made our way north.
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Acknowledgments
And here we are with an actual, real book in hand. Ta-da! (Imagine some jazz hands here. Really good ones.)
But, as usual, there was no way this book would have happened on its own. I mean, obviously it had to be written, but I would have never gotten here without the help of some amazing and wonderful people. So begins the list of awesome.
Thanks to my agent, Mollie Glick, who did a fantastic job getting this book, and me, where I belonged. To my editor, Alexandra Cooper, who knew exactly how to make the story stronger without freaking me out, and Alyssa Miele and the rest of the wonderful team at HarperTeen. You are all amazing and it’s a privilege working with you.
There were quite a few people who read previous drafts and helped shape the early stages of this book. Lola Sharp, Summer Poole, Brandon Stenger, Marieke Nijkamp, Matthew MacNish, and Tricia Conway, thank you for taking the time to read my pages. I owe you forever.
And thanks to cheerleaders Kristin Rae, Rena Rocford, Jennifer Kirkeby, Molly Beth Griffin, Megan Atwood, and my wonderful friends from the QueryTracker Forum. Most of you I’ve never met in real life and I hope we can rectify that one day.
To my UMWADS writing group: Hannah Oman, Austin Gorton, and Ryan Spires. Years of beer, bar food, and fake titles and look what happened. Who would have guessed?
High fives and hugs to the amazing faculty, students, and staff at Hamline University’s MFA in Writing for Children and Young Adults. It was one of the best decisions in my life to apply and meet all you lovely writers. A special shout-out to my advisors Anne Ursu and Laura Ruby, who said the most wonderful things about my writing while telling me I needed to rewrite my essays. And especially to my classmates in The Front Row: Jessica Mattson, Brita Sandstrom, Josh Hammond, Zach Wilson, Jennifer Coates, Kate St. Vincent Vogl, Anna Dielschneider, and Gary Mansergh. I’m sincerely blessed to have met you. I can’t wait to be friends for the rest of our lives.
Last, but never least, is my wonderful family. My parents, Joe and Sandy Ahiers, and my siblings, Anne Ahiers, Patrick Ahiers, and Cassie Ahiers. For never doubting, and for all the support and excitement. And, you know, the love.
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About the Authour
SARAH AHIERS spent her childhood running around outside with her siblings, drawing pictures, and writing stories. Now, as a grown-up, she has an MFA in Writing for Children and Young Adults, and while she does less running around outside, the writing has held fast. She lives in Minnesota. Visit her online at www.sarahahiers.com.
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Copyright
HarperTeen is an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.
ASSASSIN’S HEART. Copyright © 2016 by Sarah Ahiers. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
[tk]
Library of Congress Control Number:
ISBN 978-0-06-236378-7
EPub Edition August 2015 ISBN 9780062425911
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