Starling

by Fiona Paul

  An impossibly high number of servants returned throughout the afternoon: men and women, old and young, with seemingly nothing in common but their distinctive black-and-gold uniforms. One by one, they crept into the passage between Palazzo Dubois and its neighbor, heading for the servants’ entrance in the back. Like spiders returning to their nests, Cass thought. She watched for Feliciana but didn’t see her.

  As twilight began to paint the sky a mix of grays, Joseph Dubois exited the front of the palazzo, flanked by a pair of men with clubs dangling from their belts. Dubois looked unusually casual, his hat and boots lacking the normal feathers and ribbons that the wealthy wore to advertise their status. Cass was surprised to see that he didn’t board the blue boat that she was familiar with from his visits to Villa Querini. Instead, he stood outside his front door and his men walked along the canal until a gondolier saw them gesturing and rowed toward them. Cass wished she could follow him, but the sun was rapidly sinking and she needed to meet up with Feliciana.

  Reluctantly, Cass watched Joseph Dubois’s hired gondola float away from her as she turned back toward the market. She arrived there just as the activity was dying down. The last vendors were packing up their remaining wares and heading for home. Waving a hand in front of her face to dissipate the strong odors, Cass threaded her way through the fish area, to the back where the fruits and vegetables were sold. There, leaning against the same stall where Cass and Siena had once found her dressed as a beggar, was Feliciana.

  Cass exhaled sharply, biting back tears at the sight of her former handmaid. She hadn’t realized how nervous she had been that Feliciana wouldn’t come. “Thank you,” she breathed. “I didn’t know where else to turn.”

  “Are you all right?” Feliciana asked. “I wasn’t certain if the message was really from you, but who else would know about this spot?”

  Cass nodded. “I’m fine now.” Her voice cracked on the last word. A few tears escaped and Feliciana stepped forward to give her a stilted hug. Cass could feel the distance in her former handmaid’s awkward embrace. She had come because she was a good person who couldn’t abandon a friend, but part of her was still angry with Cass for Siena’s death.

  “You look dreadful,” Feliciana said. “Are you certain you’re not ill?”

  “I’m all right,” Cass insisted. “It’s just, I—I need your help to get inside Palazzo Dubois. I know I said I wouldn’t ask you to risk yourself for me, but I need to find the Book of the Eternal Rose. It’s the only way to put an end to the Order.”

  Feliciana touched Cass’s forehead as if she thought she might be delirious with fever. “Come with me. Let’s go someplace safe where we can be alone and talk.”

  “But where?” Cass said. No place felt safe anymore. Piero might be lurking around any corner.

  Feliciana glanced around furtively and then led Cass back through the market. “We’ll get a gondola and go for a ride. We can talk in the felze.”

  The two girls stood at the edge of the Grand Canal. Boats floated past, most filled with merchants returning home with unsold goods. Finally an empty gondola approached. Feliciana whistled sharply and waved a hand.

  “I’ve no money for the fare,” Cass said as the boat approached. This admission was enough to bring on another wave of tears. Mannaggia. What was wrong with her? Why was she crying now, after Feliciana had come to help her?

  Feliciana squeezed her hand. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I have money.”

  The gondolier moored his boat and Cass stepped aboard. Feliciana lifted her skirt gracefully over the side and then gave the gondolier instructions. He grunted in response, turned the boat sharply, and then headed south down the Grand Canal. The sun dipped low behind them, bathing the city in a pinkish glow.

  Cass and Feliciana huddled together in the felze. Feliciana drew the blinds. “Why is it you’re not with Luca?” she asked.

  “He—he left me.” Cass almost couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence. She hung her head, unable to meet Feliciana’s eyes.

  “Oh, Cassandra.” Feliciana patted her shoulder awkwardly, but her voice was heavy with disappointment. “Was it because of Falco?”

  “I can’t speak of this now,” Cass said. “I need to focus. Can you get me into Palazzo Dubois or not?”

  “Why are you so certain Joseph has your book?”

  A gust of wind rattled the shades of the felze and caused the boat to keen to one side. Behind Cass and Feliciana, the gondolier swore under his breath and adjusted his position.

  “I’m not certain, but . . .” Cass peered around the edge of the felze at him. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I saw Cristian in Florence. At the time, I thought I imagined him. Now I’m wondering if maybe Dubois sent him to Florence to steal the book.”

  “But that would mean—”

  “Cristian might have been at Villa Briani the same time I was convalescing there.”

  “Do you really think Cristian is still working for Joseph?” Feliciana furrowed her brow, a mask of discomfort settling onto her pretty face.

  “I’m not sure,” Cass said. “Look. You said Dubois favors you. Do you have any idea where he keeps his valuables?” She felt terrible asking. She didn’t want Feliciana putting herself at risk, but she was desperate for answers.

  Feliciana sat forward in the felze, dropping her hood so that the sea air could riffle through her short blonde hair. “He does not discuss such things with me, but I believe I heard him speak more than once of a secret room connected to his chambers.” She paused. “You can’t get in, though. It has a special lock that only he can open.”

  Cass fidgeted with the fraying hem of her stolen cloak. “Will you help me try?”

  Feliciana snapped open the blinds for a moment, peered through the slats, and then closed them again. “You never finished telling me what happened to Siena,” she said suddenly. “If you want me to help you, at least tell me how my sister died.”

  Cass swallowed back her impatience. She stared out at the canal, counting the gondolier’s rhythmic strokes in her head, watching the dark water pass beneath the boat. “Fine.” She continued the story where she had left off, telling Feliciana how she and Siena had sat for hours until the halls were dark and the servants were sleeping. She told her how they had found Luca, how Siena had pulled the dead bolt while Cass got the keys from the guard.

  “And then?” Feliciana pressed. “What next?”

  “Where are we?” Cass asked. The gondolier had turned off into a narrow canal she had never seen before.

  “I told him to traverse the back waterways so we can talk privately,” Feliciana said.

  “Shouldn’t we light the lantern?” Cass asked. Night had descended upon them quickly. She could barely make out Feliciana’s form next to her in the felze.

  The gondolier tried twice with his tinder, but each time the lantern bloomed to life, the wind stole away the flame. He cursed under his breath, tried a third time, and then gave up and tossed the lantern to the baseboards. “There aren’t many crafts traveling at this hour,” he said, taking up his oar once again.

  Reluctantly Cass finished the story of the night she broke Luca out of prison. “Siena was with us,” she said. “And then she wasn’t. I looked for her. She had fallen in the corridor, only I don’t think it was an accident.”

  Feliciana sucked in a sharp breath. “What do you mean?”

  “I think she feigned falling so that we might get away. When the first guard approached her, she slashed him with her dagger. I wanted to go back, but then I—I saw the blade go straight through her,” Cass said miserably. She turned away so that Feliciana would not see her tears.

  “So she pretended to fall so that you might escape. Then she was stabbed. Then you left her?”

  “You make it sound so horrible,” Cass said. “It was horrible. But there was nothing we could do. She was mortall
y wounded.”

  “And so how did you and Luca manage to escape?”

  Cass barely heard her. She had caught a glimpse of something heading toward them. A boat—sleek and sinuous, with no source of light, distinguished from the rest of the dark water only by its purposeful movement. Behind her, the gondolier hollered a warning, but the other boat stayed its course. It was heading straight for them. They were going to hit.

  Cass froze, clutching Feliciana’s hand, unable to do anything except wait for the inevitable collision.

  And then the boat angled to the side at the last second and its bow scraped the side of the gondola. Cass barely heard both Feliciana and the gondolier cursing. She was too focused on the form that had risen from the other boat. The figure leapt into the gondola, and the faint moonlight illuminated his face. Cass screamed. It was Piero. Grabbing Feliciana’s arm, Cass lunged to her feet and prepared to jump overboard. She would take her chances in the water again before she went anywhere with Piero Basso.

  But Feliciana seemed frozen where she sat, and then Piero was upon them. A cloth hood dropped over Cass’s face. The fabric smelled of chemicals. She struggled to hold her breath, lashing out with both arms, her fingernails digging into Piero’s skin. She wished desperately that she had not given away her dagger. The gondola teetered dangerously and she heard Piero swear and holler for someone to bring the boat closer.

  Cass’s head started to grow fuzzy, spots floating on the backs of her eyelids, a warm feeling spreading throughout her limbs. She struggled to focus. What had happened to the gondolier? Why wasn’t he fighting back? And Feliciana—had she escaped? Had she been pushed out of the gondola? Was she drowning?

  “Feliciana,” she called out.

  But there was no answer. Only the gentle sound of waves lapping against the side of the boat. Piero snaked one of his arms around Cass’s throat, his biceps crushing her windpipe. Cass gagged. “I could kill you if I wanted,” he hissed. “Don’t forget that.”

  He began to drag her body across to the other boat, his arm tightening around her neck. She was choking. She was dying. Her chest was on fire. Against her will, her body sagged, crumpling right into Piero’s arms.

  “No.” She tried to cry out, but all that came out was a whimper. Then, like the lantern being snuffed out by the wind, Cass’s world went dark.

  “The capacity for betrayal burns bright within all men. The heart must extinguish the flame.”

  —THE BOOK OF THE ETERNAL ROSE

  fifteen

  Cass awoke with stone pressing into her side, much as it had when she slept on the streets of the Ghetto. She sat up slowly in the dark, one hand feeling around her body. The blackness was thick and even, like the mourning draperies that adorned the windows of Villa Querini. Nothing moved. No wind. No leaves or trash skating across the cobblestones. She was inside.

  Somewhere.

  Her head was still foggy from the remnants of whatever chemical Piero had used to subdue her. She squeezed her eyes shut and then opened them wide. Pressing her fingertips to her temples, she tried to quell the steady beats of pain that pulsed inside her head.

  No matter what has happened, you’ll be all right. The words floated at the edge of her consciousness. Luca’s voice. He seemed so far away, like Cass might never see him again. No, she couldn’t think like that. She raised one hand to her throat and was relieved to find her lily pendant still fastened around her neck. She would find Luca and he would forgive her. But first she had to figure out where she was.

  She could sense walls even though she couldn’t see them. They were close; the room was small. Her fingers continued gently probing the floor around her. All she felt was wet stone. The dampness meant she was on the lowest floor of a building.

  “Hello?” she said. Her voice trembled, rendering the word almost incomprehensible. She tried again. “Is anyone there?”

  No answer. Tentatively, she lifted herself onto her hands and knees. Extending one hand into the inky darkness, she began to crawl forward. She made it only a couple of feet before her fingers touched steel.

  Bars.

  Cass was in a prison cell.

  The shock stole her breath away. Her arm collapsed beneath her, and her face collided with the wet ground. She clutched her chest as her heart slammed against her breastbone. She curled onto her side, nearly giving in to the panic.

  But then she thought again of Luca. He had been imprisoned, and he had remained calm. He would not have survived, he would not have escaped, if he had not been strong.

  She needed to be strong too. Breathing in and out slowly, she concentrated on the beating of her heart, willing it to slow. Where was she? Luca had been locked in a room made mostly of wood, she remembered, whereas this cell was made of bars. More of a cage than a cell. “I demand that you let me out of here at once,” Cass shouted.

  Still no response.

  Gradually, her eyes adjusted to the darkness and nearby objects filtered into view. There were cells on either side of hers. Both were empty. One had a pile of tattered blankets in the corner, as if it had been recently occupied. Cass realized she had a blanket too. It sat, still folded, near the door to the cell. She grabbed it and wrapped it around her, frowning at the dampness.

  Besides the three cells, the room was empty except for a heavy wooden table and chair. The walls were made of stone, and the doorway to the room was low and uneven, as if it had been created by walling off a corner of a larger room. The air smelled familiar. Like balsam, Cass thought, with a crushing sense of dread.

  Like Angelo de Gradi’s workshop.

  A low wail escaped from her lips as she pounded the palm of her hand against the bars.

  The tattered blankets in the next cell shifted. Cass jumped as a girl’s head peeked out from beneath them. Her dark hair hung in matted clumps. “Be quiet,” she said. “If the guard hears us, he’ll send for the woman and her henchmen.”

  “What woman?” Cass asked, though she already knew the answer.

  “She calls herself Belladonna.”

  Of course. Cass had heard Dubois and Belladonna talking about how she was now using Angelo de Gradi’s workshop. She remembered the dissected dog she and Falco had found pinned down to a steel table. Perhaps Cass was in a cage. Perhaps this small room had once functioned as a kennel.

  “Why did they bring you here?” Cass asked softly.

  “I’m not sure.” The girl sat cross-legged in her cell, wrapping the blankets loosely around her. “All I hear them talk about is blood and humors and elixirs.” She sighed. “One of them is a doctor. He’s been taking my blood. I’m so weak, I can barely stand.”

  Cass had felt the same way stuck in bed at Villa Briani. “Eventually you’ll recover.” If they let you live long enough.

  The girl exhaled. “But then they’ll just take more.” Her voice wavered, as if she were about to cry.

  “Be strong,” Cass said. “We can figure out a way to get out of here. We just have to be smart.”

  “You’re dreaming,” the girl said. “There used to be another girl in your cell. We worked together. She was full of great plans like you. They took her out one day and she never came back. I know they killed her. They’re going to kill us too.”

  “We don’t know anything for sure,” Cass said soothingly. “I knew of a man once, sentenced by the Senate to hang. He managed to escape the Doge’s dungeons. If he can escape such a prison, we can escape from here.” But her words were full of bravado she didn’t feel. She was trapped in a cage. Piero would come for her with his chemicals and his giant needle and syringe. She would be helpless.

  Powerless.

  “I heard that man drowned,” the girl said, but she fell silent.

  Cass went to the front of her cell, pressing her hands to the bars and opening her eyes wide. She scanned the small dark space, the battered wooden table and chair. There
was nothing she could use as a weapon.

  The outer room suddenly brightened. Someone was coming. Someone with a candle. Cass heard voices. Ducking her head low, Belladonna glided into the room, wearing a pair of low chopines to protect the hem of her emerald dress from the damp stone beneath her feet. Cass’s breath caught in her throat. Belladonna looked stunning, as she had in Florence, but the wavering candle made her hollow cheeks and pale skin appear hard and brittle. Her smile was sharp enough to draw blood.

  “Signorina Cassandra,” she said, her feline eyes reflecting the dim light. “How lovely to see you again.”

  “You’ll never get away with this,” Cass said. Her eyes dropped from Belladonna’s face to her layered skirts and black lace cuffs. “There are people looking for me.” She didn’t know if it was true. Had Feliciana escaped? If so, would she seek out Falco or Luca and tell them what had happened? Would Luca even care? Of course he would. But he had looked so devastated the night he walked away.

  “You mean your former handmaid?” Belladonna sneered. “She’s not as loyal as you might think. She led you right to us.”

  “You’re a liar,” Cass said. “Feliciana would never betray me.” But inside she wasn’t so sure. If Feliciana still blamed Cass for what happened to her sister, who knew what she was capable of? If there was one thing Cass had learned from all of her reading, it was that revenge often made monsters of people.