Highlander's Sweet Promises

by Tarah Scott

  How could Orazio doubt her loyalty?

  It did not take long to pack her belongings. And as the tantalizing whiff of rosemary and roasted meat filled the air, Liselle made up her mind. Joining the others for the evening meal would be preferable to spending the night alone with bitter thoughts, even if it meant risking another clash with Nicoletta.

  But the dining chamber was empty save for her cousin, Pascal, a tall, lanky youth with angelic looks and long, dark hair.

  He glanced up as she came in, and a scathing smile formed on his lips. “Bábia! As I predicted, the moment you thought yourself free you foolishly jumped into the flames.”

  Refusing to take his bait, Liselle sat down and helped herself to the rosemary suckling pig and red partridge before asking, “Where is Orazio? And Nicoletta?”

  If he was disappointed by her response, he didn’t show it. “Not here.” He shrugged, downing his goblet of wine.

  Liselle sent him a dark look. Of all her cousins, she cared for Pascal the least. And she knew the feeling was mutual.

  Absentmindedly, she ran her finger along the lip of her goblet.

  Soon she would be home again, aimlessly wandering in the Piazza San Marco, wearing the finest of gowns and a fortune in jewelry about her neck. Her days would be spent chatting with the merchants at the Rialto Bridge, smelling spices, inspecting silk, and bargaining with the jewelers selling pearls and precious stones.

  She expelled a heavy breath; it was not the life she wished for.

  No, she longed to escape the confines of her prestigious family. She wanted freedom. She wanted to experience the world. She wanted to engage in a game of wits, to use the skills she had honed her entire life.

  “Pah! The best French wine is worse than the dregs of the vilest vats in Greece!” Pascal complained, draining yet another goblet.

  Liselle eyed him sourly. “Then why drink so much of it?” she muttered.

  Pascal’s carved lip lifted in a slight sneer. “Ciò, and what else am I to do? I’m to be sent home—yet again—because of you! It seems I am nothing but your donkey!”

  Slamming her goblet down, Liselle rose to her feet. “I’ve no reason to stay here and listen to your yapping.” Indeed, she would hear nothing but a litany of complaints all the way back to Venice. There was no point in subjecting herself to it more than necessary.

  Taking a baguette with her, she retired once again to her chamber.

  The amber glow of the candles was soothing, and after a time, she prepared for bed.

  Slipping out of her green gown, her eyes fell on the small coiled viper tattooed on her left ankle. She heaved a long sigh and knelt in the candlelight, slowly rubbing a finger over the small tattoo she had been given at birth.

  The viper. The assassin’s sign of the Vindictam.

  Her tattoo still lacked the tongue.

  “I’m hexed!” she wailed in a whisper and softly tapped her chest. “Sò falimènta, a failure!”

  She could only receive that final mark upon accepting her first mission. The mark of authority. The mark of no return. Once her viper had its tongue, she could only leave the Vindictam through death. But, she didn’t find that particularly troublesome. She had dreamt of receiving the full mark her entire life. There was no higher honor.

  She was a di Franco! The di Francos of Venice were wealthy and respectable salt merchants, powerful leaders in the European salt trade. But few knew the name they called themselves ... or what they truly were.

  The shadow of her family stretched far over the lands. They were a part of the Vindictam, a group of elite assassins.

  But the secrets did not stop there.

  Only the women in the Vindictam were given the assassin’s mark, the viper tattoo. And only the women were trained from birth in the many ways to kill a man, from poisons to strangulation, to the most effective use of the infamous, needle-pointed stiletto, their dagger of choice. Liselle even knew how to drown a man with mere drops of water.

  The men of Vindictam were the decoys, spies, and protectors. They dealt with those seeking the family’s services, issued the orders, and acted as escorts for the women as they went about their darker deeds.

  Liselle frowned at her viper tattoo. Never had an assassin taken so long to receive her final marking. Already, she had failed. All of her older sisters and cousins had been sent to royal courts throughout Europe in preparation for the day when their services might be required. But whenever she had asked for which country she was bound, the only reply had been to wait.

  Well, she would have to wait even longer now.

  With a resigned scowl, she rose to her feet, and quenching the candle, plunged the chamber into darkness. The stars were bright, and a chill wind blew through the open window as she struggled to latch the shutters closed.

  She would miss the town of Sarlat, and she would miss trailing Lord Gray. But there was nothing she could do now, save devoutly pray he truly was the fool Nicoletta thought him to be. It would be the only way her sister would be safe to use him as a dupe.

  With a heavy heart, she stumbled to her bed.

  * * *

  Liselle woke to the sound of rain pattering against the shutters mingled with Pascal’s curses outside her chamber door.

  With a surge of annoyance, she yanked the door open, preparing to scold her cousin, but one look at his face caused her stomach to lurch in alarm. “What is it, Pascal? What has happened?”

  “Nicoletta—”

  At the sound of her sister’s name, Liselle shoved him aside and flew down the passage towards Nicoletta’s chamber, colliding with Orazio halfway.

  “Nicoletta?” Liselle gasped, shaking his arm. “What has happened?”

  He held a finger to his lips and replied softly, “She’s ill, sorèla mia, but she will live. Do not fear.”

  Relief flooded through her at once.

  “She’s been struck with the ague,” Orazio explained, sliding his arm about her shoulders as he guided her towards their sister’s chamber. “But she has asked to see you … before you leave. She is weak, so speak quickly.” He paused, and then warned with a wry expression, “And control your temper, Liselle. She needs to rest as much as you need to leave.”

  Liselle scowled, and shrugging away from her brother’s embrace, placed her hands on her hips to confront him. “How can you ask me to go home when she is ill? I will stay—”

  Orazio silenced her with a look and then asked, “Will you ever listen, Liselle?”

  She would have protested further had not they already arrived at Nicoletta’s door. And then she was stepping into her sister’s room filled with the heavy fragrance of lavender to ward off the bad air.

  Approaching the bed, Liselle saw her sister huddled beneath the coverlet, shaking with chills, puffy-eyed, white-lipped, and with dark circles under her eyes.

  “You are strong, Nicoletta,” Liselle said, her voice catching a little as she knelt at her sister’s side.

  “I’m sorry, sorèlina cara,” Nicoletta apologized with a feeble smile. Wisps of damp hair framed her face, and her eyes were bright with fever.

  “No. I am sorry,” Liselle replied quickly. “I beg forgiveness for my rude words yesterday—”

  Nicoletta gave a weak humph and rolled her eyes. “I’m not speaking of that! I speak of Albany and Scotland. And for what you must do now in my place.” The expression on her face was one of genuine regret.

  Liselle caught her breath. Could it be? Had they changed their minds? A ripple of excitement washed through her, even as she worried for the health of her sister. Choosing her words carefully, she managed to answer in an even tone, “I would do anything for you, Nicoletta. You have only to name it.”

  “You must be cautious,” Nicoletta replied, managing to look stern even as she shook with fever. “And you must be wary.”

  “Always, Nicoletta,” Liselle replied, torn between exhilaration and worry.

  Her sister grabbed her arm. Her grip was surprisingly strong.
“And you must guard your heart. If you see Lord Gray, do not even speak with him! Do you understand? Not one word!”

  Liselle’s eyes widened. Were they truly sending her in Nicoletta’s place?

  “Orazio, fradèl mio.” Nicoletta lifted a frail hand. “I fear for her so!”

  Crossing the room, Orazio leaned down to cover her hand with both of his. “She is strong, Nicoletta.”

  “Che scalògna! Why has ill-fortune touched me?” Nicoletta wailed, turning once again to Liselle. “Remember, cara, beauty can be the deadliest weapon when used well.”

  "But beauty fades," Orazio inserted skillfully, glancing over to meet Liselle’s eyes. "Live by your wits. And remember, you have passed every test of stealth and cunning, but you still fail in patience."

  Liselle held still, too stunned to respond. There was no doubt now. They were sending her out.

  Dimly, she heard Nicoletta continue to fret. "But she is too young!"

  Her brother responded in consoling tones, but Liselle did not hear his words.

  And then Nicoletta’s fingers dug into her arm once more. “I have something for you, Liselle. A gift.” She lifted a fragile hand to pat Liselle fondly on the cheek.

  “A gift?” Liselle repeated numbly, still in shock.

  “Give them to her, Orazio!” Nicoletta whispered, shaking with chills.

  “I will,” he promised, gently squeezing her shoulder. “But now you must rest. Say your farewells as Liselle must leave straightway.”

  Liselle scarcely heard Nicoletta’s words of advice as she bade her farewell. She only saw her sister’s resigned face as she fell back tiredly into the pillows. Nicoletta had clearly accepted her fate, and for some reason, Liselle found that sobering.

  And then Orazio drew her from the room and guided her to another.

  “Will she live, Orazio?” Liselle asked, consumed with worry. “Oh, Orazio! She cannot die!” Sudden tears filled her eyes.

  “Hush, mia cara, she will not die. She is strong,” Orazio assured, pointing to a carved rosewood box on the surface of a small table. “’Tis Nicoletta’s gift. You must take her place until she is well. And you must leave at once.”

  It was difficult to concentrate on his words at first, but gradually excitement won over the anxiety of Nicoletta’s illness. After all, as Orazio had said, Nicoletta was strong.

  “Then, I’m truly not returning home?” Liselle asked suddenly.

  Orazio laughed a little and reached over to tousle her head as if she were still a child. “You are going to England with Albany,” he repeated in amused tones. “You will accompany Albany until he delivers you to the Scottish court. So you will have much time to perhaps learn from him just where in England Dolfino Dolfin is lurking.”

  “Then you do believe me that he has gone to England!” Liselle’s lips parted in surprise.

  “I’ve always thought your instincts were exceptional,” Orazio replied, drawing his fine, aristocratic lips into a thin line. “It is your heart I fear for, little one. Do you remember the tale of Pippa?”

  Liselle heaved an internal sigh. Her family took every opportunity to remind her of the ill-fated Pippa, the beautiful Venetian assassin who had betrayed her own land for the love of a Scottish highland lord—and how she had lost her life for it. Frowning, she reminded him tartly, “I’ve already told you I care not for Lord Gray.”

  “It is your nature that concerns us, Liselle. You are a dreamer,” he said softly. And then he pushed the carved rosewood box towards her. “Nicoletta wishes you to have these. Keep them well.”

  Holding her breath, she unclasped the lid to reveal a pair of finely made stilettos with bone handles wrapped with leather cording. She ran a light finger over the cool steel of the sharp blades. Her hands were trembling, but whether from apprehension or excitement, she could not tell. She had spent her entire life waiting and countless hours of studying and training, all for this moment, to be sent out on her first serious assignment.

  “I will keep them well, Orazio,” Liselle whispered the vow. “And I will make you proud.”

  Orazio was silent a moment and then asked, “Then are you ready for your viper’s tongue, cara?”

  Her heart leapt. “My viper mark? Will you finish it now?” she asked breathlessly.

  Crossing his arms, Orazio peered down at her from the lengths of his long nose. “You are merely to find Dolfin and not yet to dispatch him.”

  She dropped her eyes to hide her disappointment.

  “Stay with Albany, Liselle,” her brother continued. “And when you find Dolfin, send for me. I have words that must be said to the man ere he dies.”

  Liselle nodded and glanced up as Pascal arrived to slouch in the doorway.

  And then Orazio took out a needle and a small pot of ink from a leather pouch about his waist. “But I shall not send you forth without authority, cara,” he said with a half-smile.

  Liselle caught her breath in excitement.

  “Diàmbarne! That is a dreadful mistake!” Pascal objected with a curse. Holding up a hand to forestall Orazio from cutting him off, he continued, “Do not give her the tongue! You know that she does not have the heart to become one of us!”

  Orazio raised a surprised brow at the youth. And then reaching over, he caught Liselle’s wrist. His dark eyes searched her face. “Are you truly ready for this, cara sorèla? If not, I can find another to replace you. Are you certain you wish for the pigeons and the viper tongue this day?”

  Liselle’s eyes lit. Finally, she was being given what she had spent her life waiting for—the tongue to announce her position in the Vindictam, one of respect and authority. And the pigeons would be given to her at her destination, pigeons that she would use to immediately inform the Vindictam of her success.

  She glanced down at her ankle, hidden by her skirts. Once he added the tongue to her viper tattoo, there was no return. She would have to succeed or lose her life trying.

  Resolutely, she lifted her chin and assured, “I am ready!”

  Orazio was watching her closely. “Then heed my words well. When your path is unsure, cara, focus only on the next step before you and nothing else!”

  She nodded firmly.

  “And always be suspicious of those you trust first—the ones closest to you," he warned, his fingers still gripping her wrist hard.

  "Then, that would be you, Orazio." Liselle smiled sweetly in reply. She knew he was worried, but she was too thrilled to share his concern. “Do not fret, Orazio caro. I will be like Le Marin! I will always be successful and never be caught!”

  He grimaced at that. Le Marin was a sore subject with Orazio. Three times the French spy had bested him in the past few years.

  And then she had to ask, “But if I should fail?”

  Orazio hesitated and then replied, “Even I could not save you.”

  She blinked in surprise.

  Pascal expelled a breath and rolled his eyes. “She is not ready, Orazio!”

  “Those who carry the viper’s tongue cannot walk the earth if they’ve failed, cara sorèlina,” Orazio said, ignoring Pascal huffing by the doorway. “As Magno Duce, I would be called to slay you myself should you fail. And if I did not, then any member of the Vindictam to travel with us, such as Pascal, would be required to slay us both. And should he fail, the Quattuor Gladiis of our family would hunt us down to slay us all.”

  A shiver of trepidation ran down Liselle’s spine, but she quickly brushed it away. There was no possibility that she would fail.

  “I am ready,” she said, lifting her chin in determination.

  “Ah sì? Then one day, no doubt, I shall be called upon to slay you,” Pascal muttered from the door with a dark look.

  Orazio sent him a glance of mild reproach and then dipped the needle into the inkpot.

  Liselle didn’t even feel the needle drawing through her flesh. She could only stare in fascination at the tongue forming upon her tattoo.

  “It is done,” Orazio said at last, givin
g her tattoo a gentle pat.

  Liselle didn’t respond. She couldn’t remove her eyes from her ankle.

  “That mark alone will give you authority wherever you may travel,” he said, wiping the ink from his fingers. “I will join you when I may.”

  “Then I’m going alone?” Liselle gasped, surprise overcoming her distraction. “You are not coming with me?” Heavens, surely they weren’t sending Pascal with her in his stead!

  “Pascal will travel with you as your decoy and protector,” Orazio said, peering down at her with a slight air of apology.

  Liselle scowled. “But you should be going with me!”

  Orazio hesitated, and then leaning close, confessed in a soft tone, “I have a most pressing concern. There are rumors that … Le Marin is here in Sarlat.”

  In spite of her annoyance, Liselle’s hazel eyes took on a sparkle of humor. “Ah! I see! What is it now, Orazio? Is it three times that Le Marin has outwitted you?”

  “He’s a dangerous man, Liselle, and not one to be taken lightly!” He sent her a disapproving frown. “And the fact that he has rescued Dolfin from my clutches more than once can only mean he is of the Saluzzo family, working for Ferrara. We must do whatever it takes to protect our homeland!”

  She smiled. She was so different from her brother. He preferred to stay close to Venice, to protect it and its precious domination of the salt trade. He thrived on subverting enemy spies and delighted especially in sabotaging the schemes of the enemy city-state of Ferrara.

  Not her. She wanted nothing more than to leave Venice once and for all, and to explore far-off lands. “Then I wish you fortune in finding the man,” she said.

  At that, Orazio snorted, and then he ordered Pascal to make ready to join Albany’s party and to leave for England at once.

  Slipping past her arrogant cousin, Liselle skipped to her chamber as her spirits took wing.

  At last, she had her tongue. She was truly an assassin, and she was truly on her way to her first mission. She could only hug herself in anticipation.

  Taking a deep breath, she warned herself aloud, “Patience, Liselle. You must stay focused on your task.”