by Fiona Paul
“My parents died when I was a child, and my brother raised me,” Maximus said. “Rowan was a warrior who made an enemy of his laird. We were forced to flee Scotland when I was eight years old. We went from country to country, but the bounty on his head was high enough that we were constantly being pursued.” Maximus bowed as Rowan looked in their direction. “I actually lived six years on this island. I couldn’t wait until I was old enough to return to civilization.”
“Not bad for a noble.” Rowan sheathed his sword and helped Luca back to his feet. “Not bad at all until you let the woman distract you.” He chuckled. “Happens to the best of us, I suppose.”
Luca didn’t answer. He left his own sword lying in the grass and hurried over to Cass, stopping a couple of feet away, folding his hands awkwardly in front of his body. “What are you doing here?” he asked.
Cass wanted to embrace him, but given how they had left things, she wasn’t sure if it was appropriate. The space between them felt like a great yawning chasm.
“I’ll just leave you two, then,” Maximus said. He crossed the campo to where Rowan stood watching two men fight with spears.
“What are you doing here? What is this place?” Cass noticed some of the men had stopped fighting. A few stood apart from the action, staring at her with undisguised desire. She slid a bit closer to Luca.
“The Blood of Midnight.”
“Right.” She tucked an unruly piece of hair back behind her ear. Was it something in the air that made everyone feel the need to be mysterious? “And what exactly does that mean?”
“It’s a place where people learn . . . skills,” Luca said. His eyes sought out something far away from her, some invisible thing out in the Adriatic.
“For what purpose?”
“For the purpose of destroying the Order, Cass.” Luca shucked off the chain mail and let it fall to the campo. He wore a plain white shirt underneath. When I walked away from you that night, destroying the Order was all I had left. If I cannot find the book, I swear to you, Cassandra, I will kill both Belladonna and Joseph Dubois.”
“Belladonna is dead,” Cass said softly. She reached out to stroke the prickly growth of blond beard on Luca’s chin. “And Dubois has the book. I’m almost certain of it.”
“Then we will lay siege to Palazzo Dubois and demand the book or a full confession,” Luca said, stiffening slightly at her touch. “One way or another, the men and I will end things.”
“But your wound,” Cass said haltingly. “Can you possibly fight?” She glanced toward his injured shoulder.
“My wound is healed.” He rolled his arm in a circle as if to prove his point.
Cass was still trying to reconcile things in her head. Quiet and studious Luca da Peraga dressed for battle, wielding a sword and doing so quite masterfully, as far as she could tell. The bookish boy she’d once found boring now focused on honoring his father’s memory and facing off against a formidable enemy. “How did you end up here?” she asked.
“I had made some inquiries about learning to fight, and word must have gotten back to Maximus. He sought me out, brought me here, and introduced me to his brother.”
“Lucianus.”
Luca spun around. Rowan was watching them. “Are you through training for the day, then?”
Luca shook his head. “No, but I must speak more with the signorina.”
Rowan nodded. He pointed, and another man took Luca’s place up on the beam. Across the campo, Maximus leaned against the wall of the church, looking strangely at home.
Cass pulled Luca away from the fighting circles, to the far edge of the hill. She raised an eyebrow. “Lucianus?”
“He knows who I am, but his men do not. He will keep my secret as long as I pay him.”
“And what exactly are you paying him with?” she asked. The wind blew her cloak out away from her body, and she shivered. The sun hovered just above the level of the waves, and the damp sea air had turned chilly.
“I promised him the deed to Palazzo da Peraga.”
“Luca! Your family home?”
“My sister and father are dead. My mother barely recognizes me when I visit. You were my family, Cassandra, and you seemed to be in love with another man. What need did I have of a palazzo on the Rialto?”
“Perhaps we can get it back,” she said. Maximus could speak to his brother on Luca’s behalf. Cass could pay the debt with some of the gold at Villa Querini.
“I don’t want it back.”
“Then I wish to learn too,” Cass said suddenly. She imagined herself in armor wielding a sword. Attacking Dubois. Holding her blade to his throat until he agreed to relinquish the Book of the Eternal Rose and then running him through anyway. Was it really that different from arming herself with a dagger and sneaking into the Doge’s dungeons?
“Cassandra, don’t be ridiculous,” Luca said. “It’s too dangerous.”
“I’m not being ridiculous.” Cass stormed up to the inner fighting circle with the wooden beam. “I wish to learn the sword,” she announced.
Rowan was sparring with another man dressed in breeches and chain mail. Their swords clanged together, both men navigating the warped wood with unusual grace. He laughed, and then answered Cass without even pausing. “Silly girl.”
“I am not a silly girl.” She bent down and grabbed the sword Luca had abandoned. She struggled to lift it. Caspita. It weighed almost as much as she did. “Teach me,” she demanded, slashing awkwardly at the air.
Some of the other men stopped their practice to watch the unfolding developments. A small circle formed around the wooden beam.
“Yes, teach her, Rowan,” one of the men hollered.
Rowan held up a hand toward his opponent and then leapt down from the board, pointing his sword at Cass. “Ready?”
She nodded. She gripped the hilt of her sword with both hands, her knuckles blanching white. Sweat trickled down the side of her face. Rowan swung his arm in a loose arc, and Cass extended her sword to meet his. Metal clanged. The impact jarred Cass all the way to her knees. She ended up on the ground, the sword several feet away from her.
Rowan touched his blade to her throat, transporting Cass back to Madalena’s wine room, to the moment when Cristian had held a dagger against her neck. The sting of the blade. The wetness of blood. She fought the urge to cry out, but a whimper escaped her lips. The men guffawed, some of them shaking their heads as they muttered to each other.
Luca pushed through the crowd of people and bent down to assist Cass back to her feet. She waved him away and stood on her own, exploring the flesh of her throat with one hand. She was unharmed.
“See, girl,” Rowan said. “You cannot learn the sword. No woman can.”
“What about Jeanne d’Arc?” Cass asked. “She wielded a sword.”
Rowan snorted as he sheathed his blade. “She wielded words.”
Cass knew from her lessons that Jeanne had been more of a charismatic leader than an actual fighter, but she had led men into battle. “It’s as if you believe women to be useless for fighting,” she said.
“Of course they’re not,” Rowan said. He approached Cass and made a slow circle around her, his dark eyes studying each curve of her body in the least sensual way possible. Cass felt like a cow being evaluated for the roasts and fillets it could become. “But like everyone else, if you want to be effective, it helps to play to your strengths.” His eyes lingered on her breasts for a moment.
Cass resisted the urge to cross her arms. “Meaning what?”
“Distraction, for one.”
A couple of the men chortled.
“I’m not interested in being just a pretty face,” she said hotly.
She was tired of feeling helpless and weak. She had broken a man out of prison. She had incapacitated Belladonna’s guard and escaped from Cristian. She could help fight the Order of
the Eternal Rose, or what was left of it.
“Fair enough.” Rowan pulled a silver dagger from his boot. “Then combine the art of distraction with the art of quickness.” He twirled the dagger between his fingers before holding it out toward Cass. “How fast can you draw? No man would ever expect you to pull a dagger. He’d be dead before he recognized his error.”
The weapon was sleek and light, less ornate than the dagger Maximus had given her. It felt more natural in her hand. Cass tucked the blade into the pocket of her dress and practiced drawing it out.
“Not bad,” Rowan said. He pointed at one of the men, a squat, burly fellow named Zago. “Work with her,” he demanded.
Zago looked less than thrilled, but he took her by her arm to one of the outer circles and fitted her with a chain-mail shirt. Then, unarmed, he attacked her slowly, letting her practice drawing her dagger against him in various positions. At first, Cass fumbled the blade from her pocket, her feet moving awkwardly around the chalk circle. But gradually she got quicker. Zago then advanced upon her with his sword. She dodged his attacks, ducking out of the reach of his blade before lunging at him with her dagger.
She focused on Zago’s sword, on the patterns the man cut into the waning daylight, on the way her body moved in space to avoid each blow. Everything else fell away. Thoughts of Luca and Falco, thoughts of death, of Dubois, of the Book of the Eternal Rose—they all vanished, sucked into the misty air that swirled around the church. Before she knew it, the sun had vanished completely and Maximus and Luca were standing outside her circle.
“Unless you’re staying the night, we need to head back,” Maximus said.
Cass turned expectantly to Luca. He was looking at her differently. She could see the attraction in the glint of his eyes, but there was something else there too, a new admiration and respect. She grinned wildly as she twirled the dagger in her hand, dizzy with pride and joy.
“I’m staying,” Luca said. “I need to continue my training.”
“Perhaps you’ve trained enough,” Cass said. “There’s a party at Palazzo Dubois tomorrow night. I could sneak in with the courtesans I’ve been staying with. Or I could go with you and these men.”
Rowan had wandered over and caught this last bit of conversation. “It seems an opportune moment. I think you are ready to face your enemies, Lucianus. A strong will is more important than mere technique. Together we can strike with deadly force.”
“Joseph Dubois will likely cower behind a female servant,” Cass said. “You will shed the blood of a hundred innocents before you kill him. Why not make the objective the Book of the Eternal Rose? While you fight, I will seek it out. If we find the book, it will implicate Dubois in crimes of conspiracy, heresy, and murder. The Senate will demand his execution, and fewer people will die in the fray.”
Rowan looked toward Luca. “It is your decision.”
“The signorina is right,” Luca said. “Our mission should be one of stealth and honorable purpose. We shall use force only if needed to procure the book.”
“It is settled,” Rowan said. He bowed before Cass and then headed toward the church. The men followed him in twos and threes, shedding their armor and leaving their weapons outside.
“They will take their supper,” Maximus said. “And then train for a few more hours before sleeping.”
Luca took Cass’s hand. The two of them walked to the edge of the hill again. Cass could hear the roar of the water below, but all she could see was darkness.
“Go home, Cassandra,” he said. “There’s no need for you to stay here. It’s wet and cold. Take your dagger someplace warm and dry to practice.”
Cass didn’t want to leave, but she knew Luca was right. He had come here seeking not just vengeance, but answers about himself. About who he was and who he could become. He might lose that if she insisted upon staying.
“I’ll meet you at Palazzo Dolce,” he continued. “Tomorrow.”
“There’s something I need to say before I go,” she began. “The night you walked away—”
Luca’s eyes tightened. “I was hasty and foolish to leave as I did,” he said. “I’m very sorry. We don’t need to speak of it.”
Cass took his hands in hers. “I want to speak of it.” Clearing her throat, she continued, “I was hasty too. I should have had faith in you. While you were away at school, I wandered my aunt’s villa noticing all of the ways I was changing without ever considering that you might change also. That night—” Cass’s voice cracked. She struggled to compose herself. “I wasn’t sure what I wanted. Or perhaps I was sure but just too afraid to recognize it. But ever since, I’ve held you in my mind and in my heart. Thoughts of you kept me strong when I needed strength. The mere idea that we might reconcile gave me hope in my darkest moments.”
“Cassandra . . .” Luca lifted her hands to his mouth and kissed each of her bruised fingertips. “You have no idea what these words mean to me.”
“I do,” Cass said, biting back tears. “And Falco, he— I don’t know what that was. But we never . . .”
“It doesn’t matter,” Luca said. “The past is gone. None of it matters to me. I would love you regardless.”
Her chest tightened. “You are the only one I want,” she whispered. Immediately she felt buoyant. It was as if she had finally shared a secret that had grown too big inside her, magical words that saved her from drowning. Cass threw her arms around Luca’s neck, inhaling the scent of sweat and sea air. She realized with a start that she was still wearing the chain-mail shirt.
Luca held her tight against him. “Then I am the luckiest man alive.” He pulled back so he could look down into her eyes. “And I never thought I’d say this,” he said, his fingertips coming to rest at the bottom of her chain mail. “But you look lovely in armor.”
Cass smiled. As she raised her hands, he slipped the chain mail over her head. He dropped the shirt unceremoniously on the ground and then embraced her once more. “There should be a pair of batèlas moored at the most northern part of the island. See that Maximus takes you down the back path so you don’t have to navigate the rocks in the dark.”
Back path? She had struggled her way up those boulders for nothing? No. Not for nothing. She had done it for Luca. As the stars looked down on them and Maximus waited a discreet distance away, Luca kissed Cass gently and then released her to the night.
“Please be safe,” he said. “I cannot lose you again.”
“Life scars both the skin and the soul.”
—THE BOOK OF THE ETERNAL ROSE
twenty-two
Cass and Maximus located the batèlas tied off a slab of rock just where Luca said they would be. The sea had gotten even wilder, and she stood back from the water, her footing unsure on the slick stone.
“It’s not much, but it’ll float,” Maximus said, approaching the sturdier looking of the two craft.
The wind threatened to steal away his hat, and he removed it, tucking it into the pocket of his breeches, letting his dark hair twist in the breeze. He was in the process of loosening the ropes when Cass saw the wavering shadow of someone moving behind them. Drawing her dagger, she spun around.
Luca stood, backlit by the moon, a sword dangling from his belt. A leather vest hung open over his plain shirt, and a cloth bag dangled from one hand. Cass opened her mouth to speak, but Maximus found words before her.
“Signore? Is everything all right?” he asked. A small wave crashed up onto the rocks, soaking his boots and breeches.
“Rowan suggested I return with the two of you. He thought a proper meal and a night’s rest in a real bed would do me more good than another half day of training.” Luca looked questioningly at Cass. “If that’s all right with you, of course.”
“I’m certain Octavia could find you a place to sleep at Palazzo Dolce . . . if that’s all right with you,” she said slowly. Luca was not the kind of man who bed
ded down in brothels. Cass worried he might think ill of her once he saw where she had been staying. Still, he stood before her with his arm outstretched, and she would not turn him away.
“Anything would be an improvement over sleeping outside on the hard ground and eating the same beans every day,” Luca said, his mouth tilting into a shy smile.
Maximus chuckled. “Welcome to my childhood,” he said. “I haven’t been able to stomach a plate of beans since I came of age.” Then, after a moment, he gestured toward the boat. “The sea’s not getting any friendlier tonight, I’m afraid. We should go.”
~
The ride was dark and wild. Luca did his best to shelter Cass from the wind and water, and Maximus expertly steered the batèla, but by the time they reached the dock closest to Palazzo Dolce, all three of them were damp and windblown. Flavia answered the door, her pretty brow furrowing at Cass’s disheveled appearance, but she fell quiet when she saw Luca standing behind her. Maximus excused himself to find Octavia.
“This way.” Cass led Luca up the stairs to her little room. “It’s not much,” she said.
Luca looked around at the small bed, the furnishings, the tarnished candelabra creaking above their heads. “It’s a far cry better than Mezzanotte Island,” he said.
“Yes.” Cass smiled. She still couldn’t believe she had found him again, and that he was looking tenderly at her. “I prefer it to being imprisoned, I must say.”
“Imprisoned?”
Cass slipped out of her damp shoes and padded across the room to her bed. She took a seat on the edge and patted the area next to her. “Best get comfortable,” she said. “It seems we have a lot of catching up to do.”
Luca shucked off his vest and sat next to her on the bed, his warmth perfuming the room’s air and causing Cass’s heart to beat erratically. She told him what had happened since they’d parted ways. About the capture and the prison and the fire. She told him about Cristian, but she didn’t tell him about Falco.
