by Sarah Ahiers
The Saldanas as the first Family, and my father as our head, held the most power over the nine Families, but the main reason why we were the first Family was my father’s close friendship with the king. “All of that aside”—my mother flicked her fingers in the air—“it is a serious claim and we should consider it. Safraella knows we could use the money almost as much as we could use the addition to the Family. That plague may as well have killed us all unless we increase our numbers and funds. It’s a miracle the other Families haven’t made a move against us.”
My stomach sank whenever she spoke like this. Like our rank compared to the other Families was more important than the people we lost. “They wouldn’t dare, Mother. Not with Father’s friendship with the king.”
Mother raised an eyebrow. “It doesn’t matter that your father was the king’s foster brother and his personal guard until Marcello almost ruined this Family. If the other Families were to take a stand against us, Costanzo Sapienza would not stop them. He would not save your father over the lives of the common, over the safety of the country.”
I dropped my gaze. When the king had bowed to Safraella on behalf of the entire country, She had become Lovero’s patron. Before that, people had worshipped whichever god they wanted, and the stone walls had tried to keep the ghosts out. Now almost everyone in Lovero worshipped Safraella, and the king had become our wall. His faith, his belief on behalf of all of us, kept the ghosts away. If he were to falter in his faith, the ghosts would find their way back inside.
“Why is it just me?” I changed the subject. “Matteo is older.”
“Don’t for a second think you’re so special. Just because you’re not privy to our conversations doesn’t mean I’m not discussing marriage prospects with Matteo. Or even Rafeo. Two years has been long enough to grieve.”
Another door down the hall opened and my father stepped out, his dark, curly hair pulled back respectably in a tie. He wore a pair of glasses to help him with reading in the lamplight.
“Ah, Lea. I’ll take your report, if your mother can spare you?”
Saved by my father once again.
Mother dismissed me with a wave of her hand. “Go speak with your father. But we are not done with this talk. You’re plenty old enough to contribute to the growth of this Family.”
I tried not to shudder. Marriage prospects with anyone, even Brand Caffarelli, were something I was not remotely ready to discuss.
My father held open his office door while I walked in. I took a seat and pulled off my mask.
Papers and parchments lay scattered across his desk. A small stack caught my eye: letters from priests putting in their bid to be the new Saldana Family priest. I picked up the one on top, sent from a priest named Faraday from a monastery on the dead plains. We’d been without a priest for two years, but it wasn’t as easy as just choosing anyone. The Family priest was as good as family. He would live with us, counsel us in all matters, keep Family records. He had to be a good fit.
Father sat across from me. “Actually, I don’t really need your report right at this moment.”
I smiled. He always knew the most tactful way to interrupt Mother’s tirades. “We might as well finish it so we don’t have to work in the morning.”
He dipped his pen in the inkwell. “You mean so you don’t have to work in the morning. The work for me, my dear, never ends.”
Father scratched the nib across the paper as I told him about my successful night.
He sighed and set his quill aside. “He didn’t pay a lot, of course,” my father said. Suicide requests usually didn’t.
“I thought you were going to have Matteo take over some of the paperwork,” I said. “He’d excel at it.”
Almost as if he’d heard us, Matteo stepped into the office. I nodded and he sniffed, once.
“Lea,” he said. “Got home late enough, I see.”
“Matteo. Didn’t go out at all, I presume.”
“Children, please.” Father removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose.
I’d never gotten along with my brother Matteo. He was strict and humorless, so different from Rafeo and me. As a child, I used to dream about him leaving the Family, joining another. Of course, now I understood things were complicated.
I exhaled. Losing Matteo, losing any of us when our Family had already lost so many, would put us further in a bind. Maybe Mother was right. Maybe it was time for me to grow up and do something for the Family for a change.
I thought about Val, the smell of his skin, the taste of his lips, and the feel of his embrace. We couldn’t always have what we wanted. I knew this. Sometimes, we had to give up what we wanted to get what our Family needed.
Even if that meant marrying Brand Caffarelli.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
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five
LATER, I WOULDN’T BE SURE WHAT HAD WAKENED ME: the smell of smoke, or the sounds of violence outside my room.
In the end, it didn’t matter.
I rolled out of bed, alert. The acrid scent of burning wood and cloth reached me even through my closed bedroom door.
I jerked open a drawer in my bureau and dragged on a pair of leather pants beneath my nightgown, not only for ease of movement but also for the pockets they afforded me. I grabbed any knives in my end table, far too few for comfort, and cursed my sword, still resting in the weapons room.
A sudden bang exploded against the door. I dropped into a defensive stance, knives in hand. My key thumped against my chest from its chain.
No one burst through. Gray smoke flowed under the door.
I snatched my mask from my bedside table and jammed it over my face. Its familiar smell enveloped me. I breathed deep. Whatever was happening outside my room, I could handle it. I was a clipper. A Saldana. I had no fear. Right?
The door handle burned my palm. I yelled and pulled away. Sloppy, Lea. I needed to get my wits about me. I slipped my sleeve over my skin and jerked the door open to face the fire.
Flames crawled across the walls. The Saldana Family tapestries burned merrily as the hall and rooms filled with smoke. With no windows in the house, the smoke had nowhere to go. The fire would burn until it consumed all the air in the house. My Family’s remaining wealth, all our beautiful things, surrendered themselves to the flames.
A hall door creaked and fell inward, covered in flames. Go! Move! Do something!
I dashed from my room. My mask protected me from the smoke. It wouldn’t last. It couldn’t last.
“Mother!” I shouted. “Father!” Had they fled and left me alone?
The flames licked the ceiling. Before long they would rain onto me. I had to get out of here. I had to reach the tunnels.
I raced through the halls, stopping only to check the bedrooms. In Emile’s room his nursemaid Silva leaned over his bed, a knife plunged into her back. She’d been dead long enough for her blood to soak his bedcover, turning it scarlet.
I clenched my hands into fists. She had been kind, and caring, and now she was dead. There was nothing I could do for her, but maybe she could help me. I removed the knife. No markings, no sigils or crests. No sign of who owned this knife. Of who was attacking us.
Did Rafeo have Emile?
Jesep’s and Matteo’s bedrooms were engulfed in flames, and I couldn’t see inside.
I stumbled down the stairs, coughing as the smoke snaked its way beneath my mask. There wasn’t much time, but I needed to find my Family. I wouldn’t leave without them.
In the stairwell another body lay slumped against the wall. Rafeo. A wordless shout escaped my lips. I dropped beside him. He wore his leathers, and a crack ran along the white side of his mask where his mouth would’ve been. My fingers pressed against his neck. Nothing, then a pulse, slow and weak. My hand came away coated in the deep red of heart’s blood.
He groaned, and relief washed over me like a
gale before a storm.
Stay calm. More than anything I had to stay calm. Rafeo needed me.
“I’m here, Rafeo.” I threw his arm over my shoulder. Rafeo was not a large man, no Saldana was, but even with all my strength I couldn’t bring him to his feet, not without his help.
“Rafeo.” I struggled to lift him. “You need to help me. I can’t do this without you.”
He coughed behind his mask. His knees bent, and together we got his feet under him.
Reaching the bottom of the stairs was not easy. Rafeo kept tripping, threatening to drag us both down, but somehow we made it. Only one more hallway to the tunnels. If we could reach them, I could stash Rafeo safely and return to search for everyone else.
The fire wasn’t as bad downstairs, though it was spreading quickly. It must’ve been set on the upper level to allow the attackers time to escape. Someone had found their way through to our home. It was the only explanation.
Rafeo stumbled beside me. He tugged me with him as he leaned against a wall.
“No, Rafeo. We’re almost to the tunnels. You need to help me.”
Behind us, a door crashed. I turned, dropping Rafeo as I pulled out my knives.
Three men had kicked it down. They wore leathers and bone masks. Another Family, then. The worst possibility. I peered through the haze, but the smoke obscured the colors and patterns of their masks.
They approached, swords held before them. I had no sword, only knives. They were bigger than me, with longer reaches. I was outnumbered and wearing my tattered nightgown.
I swallowed, my mouth and throat dry. Maybe this was it. Maybe this was how I would die.
Rafeo groaned again. I glanced at him. The leathers on his chest were slick and wet.
I closed my eyes. Nothing to do for him. Not unless I could somehow drop the three clippers.
A shriek filled the air. From the stairwell a figure landed on the back of one of the men. Daggers plunged into his neck. The man collapsed, dead, and my mother turned her attention to the man on her left. He blocked her dagger thrust at his gut.
“Mother!” I screamed. The third clipper swung at her from behind. She bent backward. The sword barely missed scraping across her bone mask. She moved like a water serpent, all fluid attack.
I raced toward her. Where was Father?
“No, Lea!” She blocked the sword swings with her daggers. “Take Rafeo and flee.”
I stopped, torn. I could disobey her, run to her aid, and fight beside her. End those who were destroying our home, killing our Family.
I faced Rafeo. He didn’t move. His heavy breaths struggled against the smoke and his wounds. My mother needed my help, but Rafeo needed me more. He couldn’t help himself. I would return for my mother.
Rafeo was even less responsive. His feet tangled together as I dragged him closer to the tunnel room and the safety found there. My heart was heavy with dread.
A loud crash exploded from upstairs. The house shook. Behind us, the ceiling collapsed. Broken beams spilled across the hall, covered in flames and fire from above.
“Mother!” The smoke and flames were too thick to see past. She would be unharmed. She would be safe. I had to believe it.
I shouldered open the tunnel room door, dragging Rafeo beside me. A hatch lay open—the one the other Family had used to breach our home. The same one I’d used earlier tonight.
Had I forgotten to lock it behind me?
All this was my fault.
I kicked the hatch shut, cutting off a startled yell from the dark tunnel.
Someone pounded on the hatch, trying to break through. I tipped over a cloak cabinet. The wood clattered and cracked as it blocked the hatch. Any surviving attackers in the house would have to take their chances with a different tunnel.
All the other hatches were locked. No one had been through them yet. I chose one and climbed down the ladder. The tunnel was cool and dark and, most importantly, empty of attackers and flames. I reached for Rafeo. The weight of his body crashed into me. We spilled to the tunnel ground in a heap. I crawled out from under him and closed the hatch.
Rafeo groaned at my feet. My body burned and ached. I couldn’t lift him anymore. I’d used almost all my strength getting us this far. I grasped his wrist and dragged him down the tunnel. His body painted streaks against the dusty floor until we reached the first split. I pulled him into a dead end.
“You’ll be safe here,” I said. He showed no sign of hearing me.
I stood. I had to help Mother. To find Emile and Father and Jesep and Matteo and anyone else still inside the burning house.
Rafeo grabbed my wrist, jerking me off my feet.
“Rafeo.” I crouched beside him, squeezing his hand with mine.
He kept a firm grip on my fingers, struggling to remove his mask with his free hand. He finally lifted his mask off his face and dropped it to the ground. It clattered loudly in the silence of the tunnel.
A slight glow from the fire trickled down to us from the edges of the hatch.
“Oh, Rafeo . . .” A deep gash stretched across the left side of his throat. A slow, steady pump of blood escaped him. His dark leathers were drenched with it.
I slipped my hand from his grip and pressed tightly against his wound to stop the bleeding. The blood seeped through my fingers.
He stared at me, then gave a small smile before he pushed me away, his hands fluttering against mine like moths against a lamp glass.
“It’s all right,” he whispered. His voice had no strength, and his eyes wouldn’t focus on me. I slipped off my own mask and clutched his hands, his blood slick between us.
“Rafeo, please hold on.” My voice broke, and tears dripped off my chin to land on his chest. How could this be my joyful, beautiful brother? How had we come to this? Had Safraella forsaken us?
No. Safraella was the goddess of death, murder, and resurrection. This dark work belonged to Her as well, even though we were Her disciples.
He took a deep breath. Then another.
“Da Vias,” he said.
Rafeo exhaled and died.
I clutched his hands to my heart. I bent over him, my forehead resting against his blood-soaked leathers. I tried to sing him my nursery rhyme, tried to tell him he’d be safe and warm once more, but my throat closed and I wept for my brother. Wept for all of us. We were lesser without him. The world was lesser without him.
It took me far too long to gain control of myself, but when I’d finally stopped my tears, I closed Rafeo’s eyes and dug around in his leathers until I found a coin. I placed it in his mouth.
It was fine. I would miss him—gods I would miss him—but he would be reborn. He was favored of Safraella. She would provide him with a good, new life. Maybe one without so much blood.
I grabbed my mask and left Rafeo in that tunnel. I’d come back for him later, but for now it would have to serve as his tomb.
I returned to the hatch, pausing at the bottom of the ladder to ready my knives.
They would pay for Rafeo. They would pay for it all, even if it cost my own life.
I climbed the ladder and reached the hatch.
It wouldn’t budge.
I used the butt of my knife to pound against the wood. The sound thumped dully. Something must’ve been resting on it.
No. No, that wasn’t possible. I could not be trapped in the tunnel. Not when my Family needed me!
I pulled myself up the ladder, crouching below the hatch and using my shoulder and back to push against it. The hatch creaked. A small shaft of light stabbed into the darkness.
The air exploded in fire.
I screamed and fell to the ground, covering my head with my hands. An image flashed in my mind, of my hair catching fire and it consuming me. I batted at my face and head, but there were no flames.
I caught my breath. The hatch was closed again, sealing me off from the fire raging above. I was cut off from the house. From my mother. From everyone else trapped inside.
There was no
way back, and I was alone in the tunnel with my brother’s body.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
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six
The tunnel opened into the bottom of a false well, and I climbed my way to the top. By the time I stumbled into the city, the sun had risen. Yellow light reflected off the tiled roofs.
Dried blood and black smears from the tunnel covered my white nightgown. I stank like filth. I couldn’t be seen in public.
I blinked, and tears pricked my eyes again. Please, please let the others have escaped. Just because they hadn’t used my tunnel didn’t mean they couldn’t have reached another. There were six in total. Surely someone had gotten away. Surely I wasn’t alone. . . .
Shut up, Lea! I lifted my mask and rubbed my eyes. A clipper shouldn’t act this way. I needed to get control of myself. When I controlled myself, I controlled my situation.
I replaced my mask and took a few deep breaths.
First, I needed a change of clothing.
I headed to the closest safe house, a tapestry dealer a few streets from the well. Moving quickly, I managed to avoid being seen. Ravenna may have been an all-hours city, but the early morning was typically reserved for bakers and shop owners.
I slipped through the hidden entrance of the shop, its interior dim in the morning light.
I stripped, throwing the stained nightgown and pants as far away as I could. My mask rested on a table while I pulled everything of use from my cabinet.
The buckles, straps, and pockets on my leathers hid every knife in the cupboard. I tucked the small purse of money in my waistband, then ransacked Rafeo’s cabinet for his weapons and money as well, strapping a spare sword on my hip.
I paused before Jesep’s and Matteo’s cupboards. They’d been at home. I’d leave their cabinets be, in case they’d escaped the fire or the attackers.
The attackers . . . Rafeo had mentioned the Da Vias before he died.
