Assassin's Heart

by Monica Burns

  “But the Zales and Russwin weren’t Vigilavi.” Atia frowned. The Vigilavi were alieni who served the Order in different capacities. Many of them descendants of alieni the Sicari had saved centuries ago. She shook her head in puzzlement. “They weren’t even on the Order’s payroll as consultants.”

  “No, but they had one thing in common. They were looking for the Tyet of Isis, and whoever killed them was concerned they might find it.”

  “Praetorians are always dangerous, but a fanatical one is doubly so. I’ll inform the Council of the threat and alert the guilds.” She experienced a sudden rush of fear for him. “I assume you’ll have Dante attempt to deal with this threat?”

  “Unfortunately, I think this is one threat I will have to deal with myself.” The quiet resignation threading beneath his statement made her stare up at him in fear. He didn’t look away, and horror swept through her.

  “You think it’s him,” she gasped.

  “Yes.” He nodded, a grim expression crossing his still handsome features.

  She swayed slightly, and his strong hands gripped her shoulders. “Forgive me, carissima. I prayed this day would never come.”

  “How can you be so sure? It could be any Praetorian.” She shuddered.

  “No,” he said firmly. “I’m convinced it’s Gabriel.”

  “But you can’t be sure it’s him. It could be someone else.”

  “No,” He shook his head. “Gregori doesn’t hide the names of the Praetorian Dominus he’s trained. Silvestro and Alessandro have been responsible for more deaths in my guild than I care to count. But they don’t mark their victims as heretics, and they only hunt Sicari.”

  “It still doesn’t mean it’s him. We don’t even know if he’s alive.”

  “You’ve seen the reports. There have been almost ten Sicari killed in Rome, Venice, and Genova over the past two years. What those reports didn’t explain was that all of them were murdered in the same manner as the Zales and Russwin. These warriors were all looking for the artifact, too. Those who survived the encounters long enough to give us information said their attacker had both telepathic and telekinetic abilities.”

  “Why wasn’t this information reported to me?” she demanded.

  “The men and women who died were in my personal guild. They answer to me, before anyone else. I ordered the reports be modified.”

  “I don’t care that the Absconditus is your guild or that you’re the reigning Sicari Lord. Just because the Prima Consul reports to you doesn’t mean you can pick and choose the type of information you release to me.” Her mouth tightened as she scowled at him. “The Order has always served at the pleasure of the Sicari Lords, but as Prima Consul, I’m entitled to see all information the Absconditus possesses when it comes to general matters of interest to the Council. It’s been done like that for centuries.”

  “It was my intent to protect you.” His voice had become stiff and stilted.

  “Protect me,” she snapped as the painful memories came rushing back. “From what? The knowledge that the bastardi who took our son have turned him into a killer? You tried to protect him, too, remember?”

  The minute her words left her mouth, she regretted it. The accusation was unfounded, and they both knew it. The ashen look on Marcus’s face filled her with remorse. Even the pain lashing through her was not an excuse for accusing him of failing to save their child.

  “Protecting him wasn’t just my sacred duty. It was my responsibility as a father,” he said in a savage tone.

  It was a sharp, unyielding statement, but she heard the anguish in his voice. His guilt was a tangible sensation, and her heart ached for him in spite of her bitterness. Despite everything that had transpired between them, her love for him was as strong today as it had been more than thirty years ago. She knew he’d done what he thought necessary to protect their child.

  The Order had always had its spies, and someone had known she’d given birth to a Sicari Lord. Marcus had tried to protect their son by taking him away. But even that precaution had failed. The outcome would have been the same no matter where they’d tried to hide Gabriel. The Praetorians had received help from inside the Order, and if she ever found out who it was, she’d slit their throat herself. To hell with the consequences. She touched the sleeve of Marcus’s robe.

  “Forgive me. I spoke in anger. It was unwarranted. We both know the Praetorians had help from within the Order. They would have found Gabriel no matter what we did,” she

  said quietly.

  “I was too arrogant,” he rasped. “It blinded me. Made me less vigilant.”

  “You are a Sicari Lord. Arrogance has always been a part of you,” she murmured with a quiet smile. “But you are still human, and even you make mistakes.”

  “You defend me, carissima?”

  Amazement echoed in his voice as he turned his head to look down at her. The sorrow in his vivid blue eyes made her throat tighten with tears she barely managed to hold back. Deus, if she allowed him to see her cry, he’d know he still had power over her. Losing Gabriel had torn them apart, and she had no doubt that what lay before them now could easily destroy them both. There was no place for emotion or sentiment between them now. It would only lead to more pain. The minute his hand touched her shoulder, selfpreservation took over, and she quickly put a reasonable distance between them. There was too much pain in that touch. And longing. A wish for things to have been different.

  “You’ve reached a decision?” she asked in a stilted tone.

  “He must die.”

  Marcus spoke without emotion. It was just a simple statement. But its impact on her was like running into a wall. He sounded as if he was talking about someone other than their son. And that’s what shattered her heart. They were discussing someone else. Gabriel was no longer their son. The Praetorians had taken him away when he was only two. It was unlikely he would even remember them. Silence settled between them as they

  contemplated what was to come. How did one kill one’s own child? The question sickened her, and she turned away from Marcus. The pain was too fresh and raw.

  “It’s all right, mea amor . We shall do what we must.” Only once had he ever entered her thoughts like this. The gentle intrusion then had been to comfort her, just as it was now. The invisible caress of his hand touched the side of her face, and she trembled. A second later, she was engulfed in his strong arms and he held her quietly. “Cry, inamorato . Cry for what we’ve both lost.” The tenderness of his thoughts and the way he cradled her against him proved her undoing. The tears came hot and fast as she cried in his embrace. She was no longer Prima Consul, and he was no longer the reigning Sicari Lord. They were simply two people struggling with a profound grief.

  Several long moments passed before her tears finally stopped. Gently she pushed herself free of his arms. Her gaze met his for a moment as her fingers pressed into her forehead. Her head hurt from all the crying.

  “So after all this time you still get a headache when you cry,” he said with a small smile.

  “I don’t cry very often.” Her quiet response pulled a low chuckle from him.

  “Why am I not surprised?”

  The familiar strokes of his invisible fingers across her forehead felt good. In seconds, they’d eased some of her tension. He’d not lost his touch. Again the soft laugh. He’d not left her thoughts after all. She scowled at him.

  “I was not reading your thoughts, Atia.” He leaned into her. “I was reading your expression.”

  “Then stop,” she bit out sharply. It was a ridiculous statement. She knew that. But all she wanted was to finish up with their business and leave. Being here with him was affecting her in ways she’d not experienced in years. She deliberately opened up her thoughts to him, while burying her deepest emotions behind a facade he couldn’t penetrate. His jaw grew tight with tension, telling her she’d succeeded in letting him see only what she wanted him to see.

  “Va bene.” His head jerked in a sharp nod. “Th
e incident at the Zale house cost us a considerable sum to keep quiet.”

  “It couldn’t be helped. The house had been watched for over a week. The Praetorians shouldn’t have been there. All things considered, we were lucky we only lost one man. We might have lost Emma, too, and she’s a valuable resource for the Order.”

  “Obviously, Ares’s ability to defy the rules saved her life.” There was only a hint of rebuke in his voice as he referred to Ares bonding with Emma Zale without the Order’s permission. The blood bond Ares had exchanged with his new wife had given her a Sicari ability, which she’d used to protect herself the night Ares and his team had searched the Zale house. Marcus would be well within his right to extract punishment from Ares in some form. His apparent lack of anger filled her with relief.

  “He learned that particular trait from me, I’m afraid.”

  “Then I cannot punish him for what his Prima Consul advocates.” He shook his head in amused exasperation before his expression grew somber. “The report says the only thing found was David Zale’s notebook. Is there anything of use in it?

  “Emma’s been cross-referencing items in our databases with her father’s notebook in an attempt to coordinate our search for the Tyet of Isis. With the clue the Order’s had for some time now, and one we found in her father’s notebook, I believe there’s a strong chance of our success.”

  “And the artifacts you sent for?”

  “Her observations about the coin confirm yours. It’s the coin of the Sicari Lord Baldassare.”

  “But she saw nothing that would help us find the Tyet of Isis.” It wasn’t a question, simply a statement of frustration.

  “No, Eminence,” she murmured. He scowled at her use of his formal title.

  “There’s more?”

  “The Sicari Lord coin wasn’t the only object Emma read when Ares brought her to the White Cloud estate for Julian’s Rogalis. She touched the Dagger of Cassiopeia.”

  “And the significance?” he snapped, his features taut with a tension she didn’t understand.

  “When she touched the dagger, she saw a man who looked just like Lysander Condellaire, scar and all.” Her words made him send her a disgusted look.

  “Are you seriously trying to suggest he’s the reincarnation of Maximus?”

  “I don’t know what to think. But Emma’s descriptions were quite vivid.”

  “It’s a legend passed down from one Prima Consul to the next. Nothing more.” The rigid line of his posture emphasized his tension. It was unlike him to be so resistant to the idea of reincarnation or prophecy.

  “It might be simply a legend. But what if it’s true? The timing is uncanny. Lysander leading the team here in Rome in search of the artifact. Emma’s vision. What if Maximus has returned to claim the Tyet of Isis?”

  “Condellaire can’t be trusted.” Marcus’s voice was as cold and inflexible as his gaze was. “He has Praetorian blood in him.”

  “Christus, his mother was raped. Lysander didn’t have a choice in who his father was, any more than Aurelia had a choice in refusing that Praetorian bastardo,” she snapped.

  “None of it changes the fact that Condellaire is half Praetorian.” He glared at her. “And he’s been struggling with his darker half for little more than a year. Holding it at bay-pretending nothing’s wrong, or am I mistaken?”

  “Lysander hasn’t been keeping it in.” She waved her hands in a vehement protest. “We have talked a great deal about his ordeal.”

  “All well and good, but will he rise to the task when lives are at stake.” Marcus frowned. “I didn’t interfere when you named him Legatus for this mission, but if he becomes unstable, Campanella is to replace him.”

  “Your worry is misplaced. There are few men of Lysander’s caliber among our people.

  He’ll not fail you or the Order. His skills are what make him an excellent Legatus. You underestimate him, Marcus.”

  “We shall see,” he said with condescension. “His telekinetic ability is strong, but his telepathic skills are unreliable and erratic. If he’d displayed his abilities sooner, perhaps he could have been trained, but now it’s too late.”

  “He might not be a true Sicari Lord, but to suffer as he did and survive without telling those bastardi anything shows his heart is Sicari. He’ll not betray his friends or the Order, even despite the horrible way he learned the truth about his parentage.”

  The words hung in the air like icicles as she defended Lysander. Aurelia would have been proud of her youngest boy. Lysander had become a man any woman would be proud to call her son. He’d shown his worth by surviving what few had. A Praetorian torture session. And she wouldn’t let anyone, including Marcus, forget Lysander’s loyalty to the Order.

  “You speak as if he were your son.” There was a bitter note in his voice, and she shook her head in denial.

  “Lysander. Ares. Phaedra—” She caught herself as she almost said Cleo’s name. “They helped fill the void in my life. You weren’t there, and they needed me, just as much as I needed them. But they could never fill the hole in my heart that Gabriel’s loss left inside of me.”

  “You know why I wasn’t there,” Marcus growled with anger.

  “Yes, I know.” The tremor in her voice made her pause as the pain of the past returned to envelop her once more. She shook her head. “Seneca needed your guidance in leading the Council, and you had to honor your promise to Aurelia.”

  “A promise I should never have made. I could have easily had Tito or Placido train the boy.” Tiny lines fractured the skin around his lips as his mouth grew taut with tension. “I would have given it up for you. All of it.”

  “How could you? You were the Sicari Lord chosen to lead the Absconditus. You had too much honor then, and now, to turn your back on the Order or the promise you made.”

  “Honor is a cold mistress,” he said bitterly.

  “You did your duty. Just as I did mine. I wanted to tell Lysander the truth. All of it. Who his father really was. That he had a half-brother. But Aurelia’s concern for Lysander’s safety as well as Dante’s became mine. Perhaps they were groundless fears, but I honored my friend’s wishes, just as you did. It was important to her that you and no other Sicari Lord train Dante. She knew you. Trusted you.”

  “And what about my duty to you—my responsibility to find our son?” His blue eyes studied her face closely.

  “Gabriel was gone. We both know you did your best. There was nothing else you could have done.”

  “And you. What about you, carissima?” He leaned toward her, his voice dropping to a rasp. “You never sent for me. Not even after that night at La Terrazza del Ninfeo.”

  “How could I?” she said quietly. “I knew where your duty lay. Dante needed you more than me or—the boy’s safety and well-being were more important than my happiness or yours.”

  The words squeezed at her heart like a spiked vise. He’d never know how hard it had been not to send for him more than a dozen times. Not to tell him—she shoved the memory aside. She’d never said a word to him, because deep inside she’d hoped and prayed he would find Gabriel and bring him home. Then they might have had a chance to be the family she’d always longed for. But Marcus hadn’t found Gabriel.

  “But if I had walked away from it, would you have come with me?” he asked in a voice filled with emotion.

  She breathed in a deep breath and released it as she considered the question. If he’d abdicated his role as reigning Sicari Lord, chaos would have erupted in the Absconditus. Tito and Placido had been powerful, but they’d served their time. They were too old to lead the Absconditus to ensure its strength and viability. And with Orlando’s untimely death, Marcus had been the only one capable of leading. She’d known that when she’d blood bonded with him.

  “No.” She shook her head as she looked away from him. “Gabriel’s disappearance made it difficult enough. If you’d abdicated, you would have come to resent me for it. Going our separate ways was for the best.”<
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  A dark note of fury exploded out of him as he spun away from her. The emotions and sheer power of his abilities sent a humming sensation through her body. Was his anger for Gabriel or what they’d meant to each other and had lost? He jerked his head to look at her over his shoulder. His expression said she’d not shielded her thoughts very well.