by Carmen Caine
There was no way she could have stopped him.
Desperately, she turned upon Pascal. “We must go after him! At once!”
“Why?” Pascal asked, looking down at her from dark, hooded eyes.
She turned away. There was no reason Pascal would help. Why should he? And then her eyes caught on the sky framed by the open window. The sky was still dark, but dawn was clearly peeking.
“What time is it?” she asked in alarm.
Pascal followed her gaze and shook his head. “A new morning arrives soon enough, bábia.”
“Morning!” she echoed in a horrified whisper. “Then I have become the hunted already. It is too late!”
Her cousin snorted. “I expected so much more from you! I had really thought you would outwit them all.” He shook his head in disappointment before explaining with a scowl, “We searched for you the entire night, Orazio and I.”
She shuddered and closed her eyes, not wanting to think. They had been searching for her. “Then … will you slay me now?” she whispered hoarsely. “Let Julian go, please. He has done nothing—”
“It was fair difficult for Orazio to escape his Saluzzi escort upon receiving your message. That man from Fotheringhay is mad!” Pascal interrupted her with a dark laugh. And then unsheathing a stiletto, he viciously drove it deep into the wooden surface of a nearby table.
Liselle jerked back in surprise.
“Diàmbarne!” Pascal swore. “Orazio destroyed that foolish message and searched for you in order to save you, bábia, not slay you! But by the time Orazio had evaded the Saluzzi and made it to the castle, you had left the feast and were nowhere to found. Orazio and I broke every law of the Vindictam this night. Every law that will see even me—me—become the hunted, should my betrayal be discovered!”
Liselle’s mouth dropped open in surprise.
“I take offense at your astonishment,” Pascal muttered under his breath.
Suddenly, there was a pounding at the door.
Pascal’s dark head whipped around, and he warned her to be silent with a finger to his lips.
“I know you are there, Pascal!” a man’s gruff voice replied. “Open the door at once! Ale! Orazio has been taken hostage by the Saluzzi! We must end this!”
Liselle gasped in alarm and would have cried out had not Pascal clamped his hand down hard over her mouth, the gold ring about his finger almost bruising her lip.
“Silence!” he hissed into her ear. “That man would see you dead. You must hide. He cannot see you.”
She drew in a shuddering sob. Santo Ciélo, but this night was accursed!
“Hide!” Pascal whispered, shoving her towards the bed.
As his hand fell away, her eye caught on the ring glittering about his finger. It was an unusual ring with a bold symbol of a “V”.
She recognized it immediately.
It was the same symbol she had seen upon the parchment from Dolfin’s pouch, and it was suddenly difficult to breathe as the pieces fell into place. Her cousin’s strange meetings with dark-cloaked men. His half-finished sentences. Julian’s words just moments before.
Pascal was the Electus!
Her arrogant cousin was soon to be the Dominus Granditer over them all!
She stood there in shock.
“What are you doing?” Pascal’s dark eyes widened in alarm. “Hide! For my sake, if not yours! I would not see you dead before I can stop this madness!”
But it was too late. The man had picked the lock.
The door banged back with a crash to reveal a man she recognized from the churchyard in Fotheringhay, a man she knew could only be one of the Quattuor Gladiis. And as his hand fell to his waist, she suddenly knew what to do.
Trusting her instincts, she darted behind Pascal, and placing the tip of her blade to his neck, applied enough pressure to draw blood.
“Halt!” she warned in her deadliest voice. “You must do as I say, or the Electus shall die!”
Chapter Eighteen – The Saluzzi
“Bravo, bábia!” A dark smile crossed Pascal’s lips. “Now, this is treachery! Though I fail to see your plan—”
“Hold still!” Liselle hissed in his ear. “Or else I’ll not be able to save your worthless life for failing to slay me, bábio.”
“My lord?” The member of the Quattuor Gladiis gasped in alarm.
“Do as she commands, Venerio!” Pascal ordered curtly.
Liselle didn’t allow herself to think, lest she lose her resolve. Summoning her haughtiest tone, she boldly met Venerio’s gaze and lied, “I have poisoned my blade, and I alone know the antidote. So, heed my words well if you wish to cure the Electus of the poison that even now works its way towards his heart.”
Venerio ran his hand through his graying hair, and his lined face was clearly shocked, but he managed to nod quickly enough. “As you wish.”
“Then escort us to Antonio Saluzzo and his men with haste,” Liselle continued imperiously.
“Antonio?” Pascal asked in astonishment.
Liselle didn’t hesitate to press her blade deeper into his neck. “You are in no position to question me!” she replied in an imperious tone.
He scowled.
Turning back to Venerio, Liselle commanded, “Inform the Saluzzi we are coming and that we bear a great gift for them! But if they harm one hair upon Orazio’s head, their chance for true retribution will have been lost forever! And you must find Lord Julian Gray. He has proof of a Saluzzi deception which might aid us.”
The man hesitated.
Liselle raised a cool brow. “If you hesitate, then know that the blood of the Electus is upon your head.”
“As you command! As you command!” Venerio waved his hands in a chopping motion. “I will saddle the horses and escort you myself, but it will take time. Our sources say Antonio has taken to the Carmelite catacombs near Linlithgow Palace which is some hours ride away!”
Liselle hid her surprise, but hardened her voice. “Then let us ride while the world still sleeps. We leave at once.”
As she prodded Pascal forward, he waved her hand aside impatiently.
“Put your blade away, Liselle,” he said with a sneer. “The poison already courses through my veins. You have my word that neither I nor my men will disobey your command, lest you withhold the antidote.”
At first, Liselle hesitated, but then at Pascal’s nod, she reluctantly complied. They would move quicker that way.
As they exited the chamber, Pascal sent her a dark scowl, mouthing the single question, Antonio? But she could not explain herself to him. Not yet. Not when she was relying on instinct alone.
Praying that she had not just made the biggest blunder of her life, she donned a black cloak and filed silently behind them as they slipped through the passageways and out into the cold darkness. The castle gates were closed, but Venerio bribed the guards with a few coins, and they were swiftly allowed to pass.
Hurrying through the deserted streets, Liselle glanced up at the remaining stars twinkling as the dawn approached. Closing her eyes briefly, she implored the heavens to aid her as Venerio guided them to the city walls. And after announcing he would fetch horses and see her orders delivered, he left them there to wait.
“Antonio?” Pascal asked again the moment Venerio was out of sight.
Liselle took a deep breath. Her cousin’s hatred of the Saluzzi had blinded him to the implication of their request for only Julian’s death as retribution for her deed. Antonio had clearly wished to avoid breaking the truce, else new war between them would have already begun.
Or so she hoped to believe.
If she were proved wrong, then she would offer her life to the Saluzzi again. She would give it up in exchange for her brother, as she could not see him die any more than she could Julian.
But she could scarcely share these thoughts with Pascal. Taking a deep breath, she faced him and said, “We must give Julian the chance to reveal the treachery of the Saluzzo who tried to attack him. Then all w
ill be made right.”
Pascal’s dark eyes narrowed. “Lord Gray? You trust that scandalous drunkard?”
“Yes,” Liselle whispered, clenching her fists tightly.
He snorted, tossing his head a little, and his dark eyes glittered. “I’m not a fool, Liselle. ‘Tis clear the man is more than he seems, but what if some mischief were to befall him this night? Even Le Marin can fall victim to misfortune in a town overrun with Vindictam and Saluzzi.”
Liselle took an involuntary step back. Pascal knew! Santo Ciélo! But her cousin was proving uncommonly keen of late. “Since when?” she asked in a strangled whisper.
He knew what she meant and smiled. “Before you, I am certain,” came his reply.
“Then you must know that he will not fail,” was all she said. What else was there to say?
They were silent for a time, but as the first rays of sun spilled over the horizon, Pascal began to pace.
In the dim light, she could just see his face. His expression was strangely withdrawn.
“The blade isn’t poisoned,” Liselle assured him softly, wondering at his odd mood. “It was the only—“
“Pah!” Pascal interrupted, becoming animated all at once. “I know that well enough, bábia! You do not have the heart to harm anything, even your most loathsome cousin.”
For a moment, they stared at one another without words.
He had changed. Or perhaps they both had. For all of his obnoxious barbs, he had never truly betrayed her and somehow, along the way, Liselle was surprised to discover that she had grown fond of him.
She smiled then and gave a little laugh. “Most loathsome cousin? Insufferably arrogant and troublesome, to be sure, but … hardly loathed.”
Pascal’s lip lifted in a warped smile, one that she matched, and then his face grew serious all at once. “How did you find out?” He held out his hand and glanced down at his ring.
Liselle looked at him and lifted her chin. “You, above all, should know that a member of the Vindictam never betrays the source of their information.”
He raised an amused brow and then replied softly, “There is something you should know, bábia.”
Liselle tensed at the gravity in his tone.
He folded his arms and focused on the ever-brightening sky above them. “The end of Pippa’s tale,” he whispered.
“I know it well,” Liselle retorted in aggravation. “She died for the love of her Scottish lord. Are you likening—”
“But she did not,” he interrupted softly.
Liselle’s lips parted in surprise.
“Pippa is a da Vilardino, and though the Vindictam ordered her family to kill her for her treason, the da Vilardino do not ever kill their own,” Pascal informed her coolly.
Liselle could only stare at him in shock.
Pascal met her gaze with rank amusement. “To all but a handful, she truly is dead. But she changed her name, wed her Scottish lord, and has been known here for many years as the gracious Lady Sutherland—a skilled healer with herbs.”
Still stunned, Liselle could only look upon him. Pippa’s mastery had been in the art of poison. What irony that she’d turned her wisdom to healing!
Pascal shaded his eyes with a graceful hand and nodded at the rising sun. “I cannot fathom how this day will end; only that I hope it will end badly for the Saluzzi. But should something happen to … should you need help, you would do well to go to her.”
Feeling strangely numb, she merely nodded.
“She will be pleased to see you, because there is one other thing that you should know,” he said softly, searching her face. “Pippa is sister to my mother and to yours.”
Finding her voice at last, Liselle gasped. “My … aunt?” Pippa the legendary assassin was her aunt?
“Yes, I have visited Pippa often at my mother’s behest over the years,” Pascal was saying as he glanced around him and shuddered in mock horror. “If you only knew how many times I’ve been forced to suffer this godforsaken country that they even bothered naming ‘Scotland’, then you would truly pity me.”
And then a clatter of hooves announced the arrival of the Vindictam at last, and Liselle whirled as a party of riders on horses approached. She searched the faces of the men, recognizing Venerio and two others from Fotheringhay and the Abbey, and a fourth whom she did not know. They could only be the Quattuor Gladiis, the Four Swords. Julian and Orazio were not amongst them.
Liselle took a deep breath and willed herself to remain calm.
“Nicolo will bring Lord Gray,” Venerio informed her as he handed her the reins of a black horse. “And I have spoken with the Saluzzi. They swear Orazio will be there. Shall we ride to meet Antonio?”
Liselle hesitated, eyeing the members of the Vindictam who watched her intently from under their stern, expressive brows, but she knew that she had no choice.
“Yes, let us ride with haste,” she said, thankful that her voice sounded strong and sure.
As she mounted her horse, a crow flapped overhead to land on the city wall nearby, and as its harsh caw scolded them, a shiver ran down her spine.
“Santo Ciélo! It is an omen of death,” she said.
“Yes, cara,” Pascal agreed from her side. “But not ours.”
* * *
He truly loved her. He knew that now. The ache in his heart at the mere thought of losing her was already too much to bear.
Clearly, there was little good in being that undone over a lass, but just as clearly, there was no way to prevent it now. ‘Twas too late.
He loved her.
Aye, she was complicated, mysterious, and unpredictable—a highly trained mistress of deceit. And he wanted her to be nothing else.
“I love ye, lass," the whisper escaped him.
There was a time that he’d believed those words would never pass his lips. Now he wanted to hold her close and to tell her such for the rest of his life.
But first he had to secure her safety and freedom.
Julian slipped through Edinburgh’s narrow wynds in the chill night air. Already, the sky was graying in the east. Dawn would arrive soon.
He knew he would pick up Orazio’s trail at the shop of the Venetian salt merchants.
Keeping to the shadows, he made his way past the Mercat Cross to a tall, elegant house; unique, in that it was roofed with imported clay tiles. A wrought iron sign depicting a Venetian gondola beneath a spoon of salt proclaimed the place to be the domain of the salt merchants. He eyed the building with wry amusement. Aye, most likely, the entire house was crawling with the Vindictam, ruthless assassins masquerading as simple salt-traders amongst the unwary masses of Edinburgh.
Low voices sounded from the close behind him, and darting under a shadowed archway, Julian watched as a man in a black cloak rushed past him to pound on the door of the house.
It was opened almost immediately.
Voices rose. Emotions were high.
Clearly, something was afoot.
Moving under the cover of darkness, Julian slipped closer, just in time to hear the man inform the occupants of the house that Orazio was now in the safekeeping of the Saluzzi.
Julian arched a brow.
As the door was slammed in the Saluzzo’s face, the man laughed and hurried away, with Julian close upon his heel. Fishing a length of gray cording from his sporran, he began to weave a Turk’s head knot as he followed the man through the winding streets of Edinburgh to the other side of the city.
As dawn arrived, the Saluzzo paused before a narrow house near the city gates, and casting a quick glance over his shoulder, knocked on the door and slipped inside.
Julian paused to study the house, seeking entry.
He could see shadows moving before the windows. Clearly, men were on guard.
Cocking a brow at the roof, he grinned and several minutes later, he stood upon the lead tiles to pry the shutters of an attic window open, and vaulted inside.
Julian squinted as his eyes adjusted to the darkness surr
ounding him.
He stood in a storeroom filled with bags and wooden crates resting on boards spanning the rafters. Voices came from the floor near the far wall.
Moving carefully across the beams, he silently crouched to peer down through the cracks in the wattle and daub ceiling that afforded him a view into the room below.
There were three men in the chamber.
The thick-browed Saluzzo from Fotheringhay sat at a table cluttered with candles while a man who could almost be his twin stood by his side. A third man paced by the window, but as he moved to the table the candlelight reflected upon his face.
It was Orazio.
And as he began to speak, Julian strained forward to hear their conversation.
“Antonio will discover your treachery,” Orazio was saying. “He will demand your heads for such a betrayal to your own kind!”
“Then so be it!” the thick-browed Saluzzo growled. “If it comes to that, then Antonio has outlived his usefulness. Mayhap it is time for a new leader of the Saluzzi to rise! A new leader like myself, who is not afraid to spill the blood of the Vindictam!”
“Shall we begin with yours, Orazio?” the other Saluzzo asked with a hissing laugh.
There was a rasp of a blade.
Julian acted at once.
Shoving his booted foot through the wattle and daub, he dropped between the rafters.
His first action was to kick the table over, pinning the seated Saluzzo against the wall and knocking the man’s head sharply back, rendered him unconscious. He then disabled the second man by kicking him hard behind the knee and striking his head in quick succession. With a gasp, his victim sank to the floor, joining his companion in oblivion.
And then Julian heard the rasp of a blade leaving its sheath, and spinning, he artfully dodged Orazio’s stiletto as it flew past his head in a surprisingly close miss.
Leaping onto the side of the table, Julian vaulted over Orazio, and a moment later, had the man’s head securely locked in his forearm.
“Do not think to harm me,” Julian said, tightening his grip. “I am not your enemy!”
“Lord Gray!” Orazio wheezed.
