Assassin's Heart

by Sarah Ahiers

  I dreamed of Val. His lips on my skin, his calloused hands on my flesh, and when I woke, my body burned, missing him. But my heart burned more with missing my Family.

  My muscles creaked, still stiff and sore, but the nap had helped to clear the last bit of cobwebs from my head.

  I tightened my cloak around my shoulders and loaded up my weapons. The empty room had grown even darker with the setting sun. It couldn’t be that hard to find one old clipper in a city that abhorred death.

  I slipped out the window. It was time to hunt.

  Nothing.

  I found nothing in my night of hunting.

  I’d traveled along the rooftops, searching the dark alleys and streets for signs of my uncle, for bodies or sounds of death or any clue, really, that somewhere in the city a clipper conducted business. But all I found were ghosts, lazily traveling the streets, doubling back when they came to a canal or crooked bridge.

  I clutched my hands into fists. My burned palm ached.

  As sunrise approached, I headed back to my safe space, dejected that my plan of find my uncle wasn’t as simple as I’d initially hoped. He could have easily been out and our paths could never have crossed. I needed to know where to search.

  Secure inside my empty room, I changed from my leathers into the only other clothing I had: the robe given to me by Brother Faraday. I would draw attention, but I had no other choice.

  When the sun rose, I slipped outside again. The brown robe tangled in my feet, and I stumbled in my secluded alley. I brushed my hair out of my face and strode down the street like I was of noble birth, instead of a dirty girl in an ill-fitting robe.

  People were about their business early in Yvain. I garnered a few strange looks, but I just concentrated on blending in with the crowd, searching the shops and wares. Many of the clothing shops looked too expensive. I clutched my purse in my hand. Val had so easily lifted things off me, I couldn’t risk an actual pickpocket stealing my remaining funds.

  I discovered a store with simple dresses and stepped inside. It didn’t take long to find something I could afford—a plain purple dress, with no real shape—and though the shop owner offered to tailor it so it fit better, I couldn’t justify the cost.

  It didn’t matter anyway. So Lea Saldana was walking around the streets of Yvain in an ill-fitting dress barely adequate for the common—who was left to care? All my beautiful things were gone with my home, with my Family. I didn’t deserve anything more.

  While I paid, the shopkeeper and her assistant gossiped steadily about the city and people they knew. At a break in their conversation, I made my move.

  “I heard some lawmen say they found a body the night before last.”

  The shopkeeper clucked her tongue. “It’s been terrible lately, I swear.”

  Her assistant shook her head. “It must be that serial murderer everyone’s talking about.”

  “Serial murderer?” I prodded.

  The shopkeeper rolled her eyes. “Nothing but rumors, my dear. No need to worry your pretty head.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure,” her assistant said. “There have been a lot of bodies found in the north corner, and not all of them are ghosts or robberies. My brother said people have been sliced open. I don’t know of any street thug who carries a sword.”

  She was right—that didn’t sound like a robbery gone wrong. It certainly didn’t match the robbery and murder I’d seen.

  “It’s a shame. Even if we didn’t have the ghosts, good people still wouldn’t be safe at night.”

  The shopkeeper shrugged. “The solution is the same as always: stay inside after dark.”

  Her assistant hummed an agreement.

  I collected my change and bag and thanked the women.

  Outside, I bumped into a plump woman in a yellow robe. She faced me and smiled brightly, her cheeks rosy, her brown eyes practically sparkling in the sunlight. “Hello, child! Have you come to hear the word of Acacius?”

  To the right stood two other women in the same robe, holding baskets filled with fruit.

  “No, thank you. I follow a different god.” I clutched my bag and tried to step around.

  She turned with me. “At least take some food.” She forced three pieces of fruit into my hands, their thin lilac skins bruising and splitting with her verve.

  The fruits were heavy in my hand, probably filled with sweet flesh and juices. My stomach groaned. “You’re just giving away this food? To anyone?”

  “Acacius loves his children, and his love provides us with food to fill our stomachs and our souls.” Her smile could have scared away the night.

  A pair of large hands clasped over my fingers and the fruit.

  I turned, yanking my hands free from the boy who now stood beside me, abandoning the fruit to him in my anger.

  Long, dark, wavy hair fought to escape from a tie, brushing against his tan skin. A strong jaw was hidden behind a short beard on his chin, and a neck that was too long offset a nose that was too large. Maybe not so much a boy, actually.

  “What they don’t tell you”—he leaned closer to me—“is that Acacius is also a god of debts, and taking the fruit is an act of worship. You will owe them a debt.”

  The woman smiled tightly. “Lending to someone and having them give back what was given to them are all ways to show Acacius our devotion. He rewards us with this bounty.” She held the basket out to me, but I kept my hands away from the fruit.

  “The devout of Acacius always collect on their debts,” the boy said quietly, “because collecting the debt is also an act of worship.”

  “I follow a darker god,” I said to the woman.

  She frowned, and the boy replaced the fruit into her basket. She turned her back on us, and just like that, I was forgotten.

  My hands were sticky from the fruit, and it took almost all my willpower not to lick my fingers.

  The boy placed a hand on my shoulder in an attempt to lead me from the Acacius women. I jerked away from him. “Don’t touch me.”

  His eyebrows rose in surprise. “I meant no disrespect.”

  Whatever else he might have said remained unspoken as he looked over my head. He narrowed his eyes. I turned.

  There, in the center of the street market, walked the lawman from the other night—Lefevre. He scanned the crowd, examining each person as he passed. He was searching for someone. Me, maybe. Or perhaps the serial murderer.

  The crowd gave Lefevre a wide berth. It was a warning to me that the people he was supposed to protect did their utmost to stay away from him.

  Lefevre’s eyes swept over the women of Acacius and then me. He couldn’t have recognized me without a mask, but his gaze lingered. I dropped my eyes. Let him think me demure, weak. If he thought I was just a poor girl on the streets, he wouldn’t pay me any mind.

  Lefevre continued on his way.

  I exhaled and turned to the boy, but he had vanished.

  I frowned. He’d moved surprisingly quietly for someone so tall. He’d both appeared and disappeared without my notice.

  Hunger must have driven me to slip. I would need to get myself under control.

  It wasn’t until I’d left the street market that I discovered the three pieces of fruit hidden in my bag with my dress. The juices had stained the fabric.

  I headed to the north corner of the city where most of the bodies had been found. Not that I expected to discover anything during the day, but if I familiarized myself with this part of the city now, it would be easier to search for my uncle once the sun set.

  I ate the fruit as I went. It was as sweet as I’d imagined.

  To my left a woman sold flowers. “Roses for love,” she called. “Pennyblooms to keep the ghosts away!”

  She had a bundle of Tullie blossoms, and their sharp fragrance caused me to gasp, fruit forgotten in my hand. My mother had worn a Tullie blossom perfume. I stood in the middle of the street and inhaled deeply until I became inured to the scent of them. My eyes burned with tears. I didn’t kno
w if I wanted to purchase the flowers and bring them back to my dusty, hidden space, or if I wanted to hack and slash at them until they were nothing but scattered petals on the cobblestones.

  I walked away, finishing the last piece of fruit.

  A shadow flitted across the wall of the building to my left. Then again, a moment later. Someone was following me. He wasn’t being sly about it either. I glanced over my shoulder. A tall man casually strolled behind me, hands in his pockets, face hidden in the shadows.

  I chose a side street. He turned as well.

  I scanned my surroundings. I could lose him on the rooftops, but it would draw attention. The wrong kind of attention.

  I traveled deeper into the maze of buildings stacked on top of one another. The cramped streets were filled with cascading flowers in window boxes, as if the Yvanese couldn’t have enough flowers in their lives.

  I could kill the man. It was within my skills as a clipper. But the lawmen were already searching for me for a murder I didn’t commit.

  Another turn. A canal stretched before me, the road ending at its murky waters.

  I needed to get out of this dead end before I was trapped.

  The man turned the corner, blocking me in.

  Too late.

  I faced him, my back straight, chin held high. He didn’t frighten me. If he saw this, he would think twice about whatever he had planned.

  I let a dagger pocketed in my sleeve slide into my palm. I tucked it behind me, waiting for the man to step from the shadows.

  He paused, then continued his casual walk in my direction, whistling an unfamiliar tune.

  He stepped into a shaft of light. I released my breath. It was the lawman, Lefevre.

  “Lawman.” I nodded in greeting. “I seem to have lost my way.”

  “It’s Captain, actually. And I suppose our ways can be rather confusing for a foreigner.”

  I blinked.

  He smiled, a glimpse of white against his olive skin. “Your accent and clothing give you away. Lovero, yes? Though I didn’t know they had adopted the robes of their priests as fashion.”

  I flushed. I hadn’t known I had an accent.

  “I lost my belongings, and the priests were kind enough to clothe me temporarily.” I raised my dress bag in front of me. “But I’m afraid I find your streets and canals most confusing.”

  “Ah, I see.” He stepped closer. I clenched my hidden dagger. “You must be new to town, if you’re just now replacing your clothes.”

  He hadn’t worded it as a question, so I didn’t respond. I held my eyes wide and innocent.

  “I was born in Lovero, you know,” he said. “My mother was a devout follower of your death god.”

  I held my tongue. Let him continue to fill the silence if he must.

  “Perhaps you can help me with something, Miss . . .”

  “Lea.” As soon as I said it, I cursed myself. I should’ve lied about my name, called myself Jenna or Marya or anything. He had an unsettling manner about him I didn’t understand. It tripped me up.

  “Miss Lea, then. It’s been a long time since I’ve called Lovero home, and I have a few questions.”

  There was nothing I wanted to help him with. “I must really be on my way. I promised I would return these robes to the priests, and the church is so far from here. I would hate to be caught on the streets when there are ghosts about.”

  “I’m not afraid of the ghosts. It will only take another moment of your time, and then I will send you on your way.” He stepped closer still. My body tensed.

  I didn’t know what game he was playing, only that there was some sort of game. He couldn’t know I was the clipper who’d fled from the body. I’d worn my mask.

  I needed to get out of here. I could slide past him and run, but that would only indicate me as suspicious. Better to keep up with the act of a little lost girl, asking a lawman for assistance. “How can I help?”

  He reached into his pocket, and I held my breath.

  His hand emerged. In his palm rested a gold coin, stamped with the Saldana Family crest. My coin. I flinched. A slow smile spread once more across Lefevre’s face.

  “Ah, I thought you might recognize this.”

  “Any Loveran would. You should be rid of it. It does not belong to you.”

  “Oh?” He flicked the coin between two of his fingers. “And who does it belong to?”

  “Safraella.”

  He tilted his head. “I don’t understand.”

  I examined his face before I dropped my gaze to the coin. If he was faking his confusion, then he would make any stage player envious of his skills.

  “That coin belongs to Safraella. It is a bribe, to request that She resurrect someone quickly. The coins are placed on dead bodies by clippers. If you are not a child of Safraella, you should not have taken the coin. You could draw Her ire, or the ire of one of Her disciples. It would be best for you to make that coin a gift at Her church.”

  He examined the coin between his fingers. “And this stamp, this Family crest, if you could just tell me which Family this coin belongs to and how to reach them, then maybe I can converse with them. Lovero may be a country of murder and death, but here in Rennes, our laws and gods are different.”

  “I can’t, I’m sorry.”

  “You do realize it is illegal to impede a lawful investigation, yes? I could bring you to jail for refusing to answer my question.”

  “I’m sorry, Captain Lefevre, you misunderstand. It’s not that I won’t help you, it’s that I can’t. That coin is stamped with the Saldana Family crest, but there are no Saldanas left.”

  He stared at my eyes. I let him see the truth in them, showed him that in this, at least, I was not a liar. He scowled. “Well, isn’t that awfully convenient.”

  “Hmm.” I thought of Brother Sebastien and how he’d dispatched the Addamos. “I would say it’s awfully inconvenient for you and your investigation.”

  He closed the coin in his fist. “The Saldanas made their home in the city of Ravenna, right? They share territory with the Da Vias, if I recall.”

  It was clear he knew more about the Families than he’d let on. He’d been testing me. Or trying to catch me in a lie.

  Lefevre snapped his finger. “I know. I’ll send a letter to the Da Vias, perhaps. Ask them about this coin. I’m sure they’ll help.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek, desperately trying not to give anything away. If he really did send a letter to the Da Vias, they would know I was hiding in Yvain.

  I smiled. “The Da Vias are not known for their love of the common. I do not think they would help you, even if they could. Now, if you would be so kind as to point me to the main street?”

  He stepped in front of me, so close his warm breath brushed across my face. It would have been easy to slip my knife between his ribs.

  “I think you’re hiding something from me, little girl. And until I find out, you won’t be able to shake me. As a lawman I see terrible accidents all the time.”

  I clenched my jaw.

  “People slip and fall into canals, never to come up. It happens every day.” He flicked a lock of my hair and stepped away, his smile like a knife slash in his face. The smile I realized, too late, was his own mask.

  I’d underestimated him. He was not a man to toy with.

  “You can find your own way home,” he said. “I hope you’re fast enough to outrun the ghosts.” He walked out of the alley, whistling once again until he was gone from sight.

  I took a deep breath and released it. No one had ever threatened me before. The lawmen in Lovero would never dream of wielding their power like that over people, because they could never be sure someone they had wronged wouldn’t hire a clipper to seek vengeance. Lefevre was the first person to show me what a man could do if his power wasn’t held in check.

  I could only hope his threat to send a letter to the Da Vias was a bluff.

  I pocketed my dagger. I needed to locate my uncle and leave this city befor
e I found any more trouble.

  UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

  HarperCollins Publishers

  ..................................................................

  fourteen

  THE WIND LIFTED THE CORNER OF MY CLOAK AND I jerked it under control, shifting my weight. I’d been sitting on the rooftop of this damn inn since late afternoon and nothing even remotely interesting had happened in this dull city. I could have taken a longer nap and missed nothing.

  Below me in a square, women washed their laundry in a fountain. The women in Yvain wore long skirts and short-sleeved blouses with shawls around their shoulders. I’d had to leave my hair uncovered, and more than once my long bangs had flopped into my face.

  Stupid Yvain with its outdated fashions. I tugged the cloak around my shoulders, and my injured arm flared in pain. I should’ve been home in Ravenna, listening to music and revelers instead of watching the common go about their chores. I missed the smell of the sea and lantern oil. Yvain smelled of rotting fish and canals, and the common seemed to think putting flowers everywhere could somehow disguise the stink.

  Thinking about Ravenna made my chest ache. I needed to find my uncle and go home where I belonged. Ravenna was all I’d ever known and I missed it, like another piece of my life had been stolen from me.

  Children played in the water of the fountain or ran through the streets, hitting one another with rags and sticks.

  Don’t think about Emile and how he’ll never get a chance to play games like this. How he’d never get a chance to dance with a girl at a masquerade or steal a kiss under the colored lights, their masquerade masks lifted, their lips pressed together.

  I blinked, my throat tight. There was no use crying about it, wishing for things to be different. What was done was done. I could only worry about the future now, and how I could best make the Da Vias pay.

  As the sun sank, the women gathered their laundry and children.

  “Hurry now, before the ghosts take you,” one woman said to her dawdling daughter. Once darkness spilled across the streets, Yvain seemed as empty as the dead plains.