by Sarah Ahiers
I thought of Nev’s lips pressed against mine, his hands sliding up my legs. I couldn’t help the grin that spread across my lips. “Yes. The traveler menagerie is especially interesting.”
“I haven’t had a chance to take it in yet,” Dario said. “But I hope to rectify that before they leave. I heard they have a tiger.”
“They do. Though I found the snakes more enticing.” Specifically a little white snake, twisting around the fingers of her master.
My skin warmed beneath my dress and my heart sped. But Nev wasn’t here, couldn’t ever be here, and I was dancing with Dario, who was a Caffarelli.
“And are you related to Brand?” I asked. Most clippers were related to other clippers in the same Family, but sometimes blood ran thin, especially in the larger Families and the ones more committed to bringing in outside blood.
“Second cousins,” he said.
“Hmm,” I said. “I’m not really good with extended relationships. Does that mean you’re related to my aunt? Or me?”
He smiled slowly, a grin that suggested something more. And too late did I realize how my casual conversation could be taken as something else. As flirting perhaps, though there had been nothing flirtatious in the way I had asked my question. I had truly wanted to understand his lineage, not because I wanted to know if we were too closely related to court.
We danced on the outside circle of the floor and we spun past a group of clippers in brown, who glared at me with the kind of hatred reserved for someone who had personally destroyed them.
“No,” Dario said suddenly, and I snapped my attention back to him. “We are not related. Or at least, not closely related.”
“I don’t see the Da Vias here,” I said, changing the subject.
Dario scanned the crowd and then shrugged. “They’re probably late so they can make an entrance. If they’re the last ones here, it means everyone will notice them.”
I smiled at Dario, but couldn’t bring myself to continue the conversation. The dance had lost its appeal, and the room was hot, filled with people. I gently pulled my hands from his. “I think I need a drink.”
“I’ll come with you,” he said brightly, but I held up a hand, forestalling him.
“Sorry,” I said. “I was trying to be polite. I said drink, but I really meant lavatory.”
A lie, but a simple one to spare his feelings. He had been nothing but kind to me.
Dario nodded and bowed graciously. I slipped past the dancers and once more found myself on the sidelines by the table filled with foods.
I snatched another glass of wine and gulped it while I stared out at the floor. The Da Vias hadn’t shown. I wasn’t sure what it meant, but it had to mean something.
Emile and Elena were still dancing, and the happiness in their faces seemed real enough for people who had only recently met each other in person.
I wondered if that was how my face looked when I was with Nev.
But Nev wasn’t here. And neither were the Da Vias. And I was alone.
I finished off my wine but it suddenly tasted sour in my mouth. I set the glass down and held my stomach.
“Are you not feeling well?”
I turned to find Les behind me, the concern on his face quickly vanishing behind a more stoic facade. No reason to attract any attention from the other Families.
“No,” I said. “My stomach is queasy. I think maybe I’ll go home.”
Of course, if I went home now, it meant I had plenty of time to find Nev.
Thinking of Nev made my nausea vanish and my heart pound. It could be Allegra and Nev, then. At least for a little while, anyway.
And it wasn’t even a lie, really. My stomach had been queasy.
Les blinked and looked me over slowly. “You do seem a little flushed.”
Just thinking about Nev was helping with my cover story.
Les snatched a glass of wine from a passing servant and sipped it thoughtfully. More, I thought, to make it appear as if we were having a polite conversation about nothing important. “I can return home with you.”
I shook my head. “You should stay here, enjoy the ball. You and Lea never get to have any fun. Not that this is necessarily the most fun, since I’m sure there are more than a few clippers here who would like to see us dead, but still. The food’s free and the music is pleasant. And there’s actual royalty over there.”
Les frowned.
“Really,” I said. “I’ll just take the carriage back. I’ll be perfectly safe. There’s a driver so I won’t even be alone.”
“Are you armed?”
I nodded. “Knives on both ankles. Biggest I could fit.”
Les sipped the wine again. “All right,” he said. “But make sure you keep the curtains closed. I don’t want anyone catching sight of you alone in Genoni and making an attempt for you.”
“I will,” I said, trying to remember that I was supposed to be ill and not excited to leave the ball. “You don’t have to tell Lea, either. She’ll just worry.”
Les snorted. “Thank you for your permission. And I will tell her,” he said. My stomach sank. If he told Lea, she’d definitely make Les go home with me. Or she’d go herself. “But I’ll tell her after you leave. I don’t want to spoil the fun. So don’t make me regret this, Allegra.”
Guilt rose in me at how easy it was to lie to him. But all I had to do was remember the truth, how I wasn’t supposed to be wearing black tonight, but red, and my lie didn’t seem to hold much weight.
He winked at me. I smiled, making sure my lip trembled just enough so he’d believe my sick angle but not enough to change his mind about the escort.
And then he was gone, looking for Lea, and I was slipping around the outside of the dance floor, sliding past people and other clippers until I found myself at the door to the ballroom once more.
The hallway was blessedly cooler than the ballroom and the air chilled my skin as I walked down the hall. My dress rustled pleasantly around my feet.
Maybe I was making a mistake. I’d probably never get a chance for another ball like this. And my dress was very pretty and I’d have no reason to wear it again once I left.
I stopped. Maybe the Da Vias would still show. I looked over my shoulder to the ballroom. The party continued on without me. A man at the doorway peeked out at me, but then returned to the ball. He was the only one to even notice I’d left.
Nev noticed me, though, at the menagerie. Nev wanted to see me again. And I wanted to see him.
I turned away from the dance and stepped out into the night.
fourteen
THE CARRIAGE WAS WAITING WHERE WE’D LEFT IT AND the driver didn’t even blink when I told him to return me to Lilyan.
The nightlife of Lovero was amazing, especially with the festival.
I would never tire of this place. I would never tire of people walking unrestricted at night, not harassed by ghosts, their lives free and safe.
Well, safe from the ghosts, at least.
When I lived here, I could have clipper friends who understood what our lives were like. When I lived here, I wouldn’t have to run the shop, to mix perfumes and colognes as a cover for our real business. People would respect me on sight.
Lovero offered so much more freedom than Rennes.
The carriage stopped and my body jolted forward.
I looked out the window. We’d halted on a side street, off the main route of the festival. There were lanterns here, but no revelers nearby. In Yvain, this would have seemed completely out of place. Here it also seemed out of place, but because everything was so quiet.
I pulled my knives from their ankle sheaths, then pounded on the wall in front of me. “Why did we stop?”
No answer. Which could mean a great many things, but none of them good.
I stood, my head hunched over in the cramped space.
If I stayed inside, there were only two ways to come at me: from the carriage doors. But it didn’t offer a lot of space for defense. If I left, I wo
uld gain the space lacking in the carriage, but I didn’t know what I faced outside, and I was a stranger to this part of the city.
A round canister punched through the curtain of the window and crashed to the floor of the carriage. Smoke immediately billowed around my ankles. The air filled with its acrid scent and I covered my mouth and nose with my forearm, knife clutched in my fingers.
Outside it was, then.
I kicked open the door and jumped from the carriage to the flagstone street. My shoes clicked loudly on the stone. I spun, knives held in a defensive stance. My dress twirled around me, the silver and black fabric flashing in the colorful lantern lights.
They were here. Somewhere. I just had to find them.
But there was nothing. Or seemingly nothing. It was a lie, of course, that the streets were empty. The smoke bomb had come from someone, but it seemed they were biding their time. Assessing me, perhaps.
I glanced to the front of the carriage. The horses waited placidly, but the driver was gone. Taken? Or fled? Not that it really mattered.
Maybe I should have agreed to Les’s escort. Two clippers were always better than one, especially in unfamiliar circumstances. I could handle myself, but Les by my side would’ve made the dark seem brighter.
“If you wanted to dance,” I shouted into the night, “you could have just asked me at the ball.”
“But you fled so soon,” a voice answered from behind. I spun. No one.
“And besides.” Another voice, to my left. “Now we have our own private dance.”
They appeared then, from the shadows and roofs. Seven of them, the darkness of the night turning the brown on their masks to the color of pitch. Addamos.
Of course. I was still in Genoni, in their territory.
They wore no leathers. Instead they were dressed in the same high fashion I’d seen on the clippers at the ball. An image flashed through my mind of the Addamos glaring at me as I danced with Dario Caffarelli, the hatred in their eyes. And the man in the ballroom, watching me as I left alone.
All seven were men, not a single ball gown between them. It was a calculated move on their part. My own dress would do me no favors in a fight.
They were well armed. My daggers wouldn’t do much against their swords, certainly not against all of them.
I had been in tough situations before, with some of my clipper jobs, but this . . .
I swallowed.
“So many of you,” I said, pleased my voice hid the fear that traveled up my spine, that squeezed my chest. “Who would like to dance first?”
“Oh,” one said. “This isn’t that kind of dance.”
They charged me.
Lea had killed three Addamos when she was my age. Younger, actually. She’d said the Addamos were sloppy, with no grace about them.
If that had once been true, it was no longer the reality.
They circled around me so quickly I had a hard time keeping them all in sight. And that was the most important thing I needed to do. If I lost track of even a single Addamo, that would open me up to an attack I couldn’t block or evade. A misplaced Addamo would be my end.
One of them lunged at me with his sword. I blocked it with my knives and pushed him away. Nothing fancy from either of us. Him because he was feeling me out. Me because this wasn’t the time for anything fancy. This was a time of blood and death and desperation and only these things would save me.
An Addamo at my back. I kicked my leg out, my dress swishing pleasantly but slowing me down. The Addamo jumped back, dodging my counter.
Then nothing but movement. Jabs. Blocks. I almost lost sight of my own knives in the flashes of steel.
Another attack from my left. A ruse, to distract me from the real attack on my right.
I slid to the left. Let them think I bought their ploy. Then a sharp stab from my knife to the right and an Addamo’s gasp turned into a gurgle. He dropped his sword and tried to stop the blood that cascaded from his throat.
A brief twinge of regret flowed across me. His vest had been handsome and now his blood had ruined it.
Six Addamos left. They circled me, more wary now that I had dropped one of them.
I flicked the blood off my knife and onto the street. It shone wetly between us. A line for them to cross, if they were brave enough.
“I am in your territory legally,” I said. “I have Costanzo Sapienza’s protection. There’s still time for you to let me leave. No more of you need to die.” Or me, for that matter.
“We don’t care about that,” one of them snarled. “A long time ago, Lea Saldana took people from us. Now it’s time to take people from her.”
I snorted. “Even if you succeed here, which is still up for debate”—I gestured to the dead Addamo to my right—“she will never let you get away with it. She will come and raze your Family to the ground, until the only thing remaining is the memory of your name.”
Maybe I was bluffing, but I didn’t think by much.
“She and who else?” one of them scoffed. “You number barely a handful.”
“It was she alone who killed your Family members in the past. It was she who toppled the Da Vias. You’re willing to take the chance that you could stand up against her, Safraella’s chosen, where the Da Vias could not?”
“The Da Vias were traitors to Safraella. We have always been loyal servants. She will not help the Saldanas against us like She did with the Da Vias.”
They were right. Even if Lea could once again rouse an army of ghosts to use as a weapon, there would be no way to set them on the Addamos. They were safe behind the protection of Safraella. No ghosts could harm them while they were in Lovero.
My face felt naked between all these clippers with their bone masks. The fear wouldn’t have gripped me so tightly if I’d had my mask to wear.
The Addamos stirred. I could practically hear their grins behind their masks. “No, sister. You are alone here and your aunt can’t do anything to save you or avenge you. Little birds shouldn’t fly so far from their nests.”
“Then come on!” I snarled, brandishing my knives before me.
The Addamos took a step, then stopped as one. They held their swords before them defensively.
It hadn’t been me who had caused them to pause.
I glanced over my shoulder. Two clippers stood behind me, neither Saldanas nor Caffarellis.
I spun so the Addamos were on my right and the newcomers on my left, a knife pointed at each group.
The newcomers’ masks shone bright red in the lanterns, one with a pattern of feathers, the other with checkers. Bellio Da Via, head of their Family, along with another Da Via.
Bellio Da Via faced the Addamos. He was a big man, even bigger up close, but it seemed that neither he nor the other Da Via had come prepared for a fight. At least, they didn’t carry swords like the Addamos.
“This is none of your concern.” The lead Addamo pointed his sword at Bellio.
“She has the right of passage like the rest of the Families,” Bellio replied. “Your attack here breaks the truce created for the fealty.”
Relief flowed through my veins like a cool breeze. The Da Vias were on my side. The Da Vias were protecting me. Because I was family, even if I wasn’t Family. Not yet, anyway.
“She has the right to die!” the Addamo snapped.
If the situation I’d found myself in hadn’t been so serious, I would have snorted at his retort.
“Everyone has the right to die,” Bellio said in his deep voice. “Just like you and the rest of your brothers here. And even if you succeed, do you honestly think there will be no repercussions? It won’t just be the Saldanas who will come for you. You, who have broken a truce agreed upon by all the Families. A truce requested by the king. If you turn your back on him, perhaps She will turn Her back on you. You endanger everyone with your foolishness.”
“Foolishness,” the lead Addamo spat. “Lea Saldana has killed our brothers. She owes us blood.”
Bellio stepped close
r, and even the evening breeze seemed to hold its breath. “Don’t speak to me, brother, about the blood Lea Saldana spilled. But she is the chosen of Safraella. It is not blood you owe her, but reverence.”
I could practically see the Addamos twisting this point around in their heads. They must have felt truly threatened by the presence of these two Da Vias if they were weighing Bellio’s words so carefully. Six well-armed clippers against three lesser-armed clippers were still odds that leaned heavily in the Addamos’ favor if they made the decision to continue the attack.
The lead Addamo lowered his sword, and the night seemed to breathe again.
“Just because you found yourself some friends, Allegra Saldana, doesn’t mean this is over,” he said. But then he motioned to the others and they grabbed their dead brother and dragged him away, vanishing in the shadows once more.
I pulled my arms in and faced the Da Vias fully. They wore exquisite garb, mostly reds, but sprinkled with black-and-gold embroidery. Their boots were crafted of the finest calfskin, and looked both comfortable and strong. They wore cologne that I could smell from where I stood. Expensive stuff. I could tell from the scent alone. And the Da Via with the checkers on his mask wore a ruby ring, which flashed on his left pinky. Val. My uncle.
“Thank you,” I said. I wanted to say more, to talk to them about my plans, to join their Family once Susten was over.
But Bellio turned his back on me. “Go home, Allegra Saldana. Before you find yourself in more trouble with no one to save you.”
He dismissed me so easily. And Val, my own blood, just followed behind, like a dog to heel. Maybe they had saved me, but I’d dropped one Addamo before the Da Vias had even shown up. The only reason they were able to save me at all was because of the weight their name carried.
Claudia had asked me to join their Family, but here their Family head showed no interest in me. As if I was below his notice, even if he had chosen to back me up in a fight.
Maybe I wouldn’t be as welcome as Claudia and Val had made it seem. Or maybe I didn’t know much about Bellio Da Via and shouldn’t presume anything based on the few words we’d exchanged.
“Enjoy the ball, brother.” I curtsied with a smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes. “And uncle.”