by Fiona Paul
“I had another one made,” Luca said. He took the necklace from her and undid the clasp. Holding the delicate silver chain out toward her neck, he said, “May I?”
“Of course.” She trapped a few tendrils of flyaway hair with her hand and held them back while Luca fastened the necklace. The lily sat right in the hollow of her throat, exactly as its predecessor had.
Luca leaned back to consider his work. One side of his mouth twitched like he was trying but couldn’t quite muster up a smile. “There’s something else,” he said.
“This is more than enough,” Cass said. It was so like him to inundate her with presents because he felt guilty for what she had endured. But she didn’t need presents. That was one thing her parents had never seemed to understand either—that what she needed was just to be surrounded by the people she loved.
“Will you marry me?” Luca blurted out, his face going red. He tucked his hands into the pockets of his breeches, but not before Cass noticed they were shaking.
She raised a hand to the pendant and could feel her heart beating rapidly in her chest. “I—” The image of Falco flitted through her mind, but didn’t stay long. Falco was gone. And even if he hadn’t been, Cass knew her feelings for him had been based on excitement and danger. Falco had taken her out of her mundane world and showed her a side of Venice that she had never known. Their time together had been intense and tumultuous, but fleeting. She and Falco, they had never felt quite real.
What she had with Luca was different. Solid. Even now, when the danger was gone and they sat simply in the garden, Cass felt connected to him. It wasn’t only about their families, or about the losses they had both endured. Luca made her a better person. Falco had mostly made her . . . crazy. Although she would never forget him, there was no doubt in her mind anymore that she was exactly where she belonged.
“The necklace is for you either way. I just— I’ve been meaning to ask you, but I wanted to wait until things had calmed down.” Luca’s shoulders slumped a little as he looked down at the grass.
He was taking her hesitation as a rejection. Cass tried to tell him yes, but what came out of her mouth was a mixture of a squeak and a whisper. She nodded her head rapidly, doing her best to fight back her tears.
“I understand if you still aren’t ready.” Luca was talking to a patch of dead marigolds. He hadn’t even seen her nod.
Cass cleared her throat and tried again. “Yes,” she said. This time she was slightly audible. She sniffed, dabbing at her eyes with her gloved hand. “I want to marry you. I’d like that very much.”
He looked up, and Cass saw a million things reflected in his eyes—bronze sculptures, fields of wheat, wooden ships, glittering gold palazzos. The whole world. It was out there waiting for her, and she wanted to experience it with Luca.
“You’d like that very much,” he repeated, as if he wasn’t quite sure he’d heard her right. Or perhaps he just couldn’t reconcile her answer with the tears streaming down her cheeks.
Cass giggled. It came out as part laugh, part sob. “I love you,” she said. “When you first returned to Venice, you were a stranger. But now I can’t imagine being without you. I’m sorry I had to drive you away to recognize that what I want most in the world is to hold you close.”
Bending down, Luca leaned his forehead against hers. Cass let her eyelids fall closed. His hair whispered across her skin as he kissed away her tears. His mouth touched each eyelid and then found her lips. He pressed one of her hands to his chest and reached out with his other to trace the curve of her cheek. His kiss was warm and sweet, with the promise of wonderful things to come.
“Behold the transformative powers 0f love and vengeance.”
—THE BOOK OF THE ETERNAL ROSE
twenty-eight
They decided to get married in Venice before returning to France, where Luca would complete his studies. Cass was disappointed Madalena would be unable to attend because of the short notice, but it was safer for her and her baby if she didn’t do any traveling until the child was born. Besides, Matteo Querini still had not arrived to take control of the estate. Cass was hoping to have a simple wedding ceremony there at the villa—she couldn’t believe that soon she would no longer be able to call it her home—as long as he didn’t show up and demand that she leave.
Narissa had been so delighted to hear of the wedding that she’d immediately set to work planning “a proper celebration,” as she’d called it. “One that would make Signora Querini proud.” Cass wasn’t convinced. Agnese had been all about appearances. She would’ve expected Cass to have an elaborate ceremony at a church on the Rialto, and then a lavish feast afterward, similar to Madalena’s wedding.
But the last couple of months had worn Cass down. The city she loved had turned out to be darker and more corrupt than she had ever imagined. Innocent people were dead. Guilty people were awaiting their turns at the gallows. The last thing she wanted to do was extend her time in Venice so that she could have a big festive celebration. She wasn’t even sure whom to invite. Her parents were dead. Luca’s father was dead, and his mother was too infirm to travel. Siena, Agnese—both gone. Cass really had only Feliciana to invite. And Maximus, she supposed. Perhaps a few of the girls from Palazzo Dolce if they were inclined to attend.
Cass left Narissa prattling in the portego, discussing guest lists and dinner possibilities with Bortolo while the butler dozed intermittently. She headed back to her room and was relieved to see all of her belongings nestled securely in their proper places.
She ought to start packing things away in preparation for their transport to Luca’s home in France, but she was reluctant to let go of the comfort that came with familiarity.
“Hiding away in here?” Feliciana’s voice was light. “You’d think Narissa was planning her own wedding.”
Cass smiled. “I definitely unleashed a monster when I offered to let her plan things.”
The sparkle faded from Feliciana’s eyes. “I just wanted to thank you again. You’ve been a better friend than I deserve.”
“As someone wise told me not so long ago, you deserve so much more than you think.”
“I’m seeking new employment. I’ll be out of your way soon.” Feliciana bit her lip. “I appreciate you not telling Narissa and the others that I—”
“I meant what I said,” Cass said simply. “You are always welcome with Luca and me. But if you’d prefer to return to the Alionis in Florence, I can arrange passage for you.”
Impulsively, Feliciana threw her arms around Cass’s neck. “Agnese and Siena raised you well,” she said, her voice wet with tears. “You’ve grown into an impressive young woman.” Pulling back, she blotted her eyes on her sleeve. “I feel as if my life is in Venice, though. Perhaps I shall seek employment at Palazzo Dolce.”
“I’ll put in a good word for you, if that’s what you want.” Cass gave her hand a squeeze. “I bet Flavia would enjoy helping you learn to read.”
“Is this a ladies-only gathering?” Luca’s voice was light. He loitered in the hallway until Cass waved him in.
“I was just leaving.” Feliciana curtsied and then headed for the door.
“I needed a moment,” Cass said. “A break from all of the planning.”
“Will you share it with me?” Luca closed the door behind him. “Narissa has just inquired as to what color ribbons I mean to wear on my hat and shoes so she can make certain your jewelry is properly coordinated.”
“Santo cielo. What do you suppose she’ll say if I tell her I’m not planning to wear any jewelry?”
He chuckled. “I think that would be completely unacceptable.” Luca leaned over the dressing table. “What are these?” He pointed at a ribbon-wrapped bundle of parchment that Cass had fished out from beneath her bed a couple of days ago but hadn’t been able to bring herself to review.
“Letters my mother sent me when she and my f
ather were traveling.” Her face crumpled as she imagined how much her mother would have wanted to be there for her wedding. “They’re all I have left of her,” she added.
“No,” Luca said. “Your mother is inside you, Cass. Your aunt was always saying you reminded her of your mother. That wasn’t just about your appearance.”
Cass nodded. She wanted Luca to be right. Her mother had been adventurous. Her mother had been brave. Suddenly Cass was desperate to talk to her. She turned to Luca. “I’m going to get a bit of fresh air, if that’s all right.”
Luca nodded. “I came to tell you I’ve arranged a surprise for us later today, but go on. I’ll find you when it’s time.”
“Luca.” Cass shook her head. “You have already given me so much. What is it?”
His brown eyes glowed like copper coins as they reflected the scattered daylight. “If I told you, then it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?”
Smiling to herself, Cass shook her head. She’d had more than enough surprises for the rest of her life, but she supposed she could handle one more, especially if it made Luca so happy.
She sneaked out the kitchen door and cut across the side lawn toward the cemetery. She desperately needed to speak to her mother, and this was the best that she could do. As she passed through the wrought-iron gate, she found herself walking the same path she had walked the night she went to bid good-bye to Liviana. The night she had found Mariabella’s body and met Falco. The night her whole life had changed forever.
Cass passed through the shadow of the looming angel that stood on the roof of Liviana’s tomb, smiling as she remembered the outrage she had felt at the way Falco teased her, how huffy she became when he pretended to read from her journal. As she neared the Caravello crypt, she was both laughing and crying. Crying for Falco’s death, but laughing at the time they’d shared together. She’d been lucky to know him. Would he go to heaven, even though he claimed science as his religion? Cass wasn’t sure. Wherever he was, she hoped he was at peace. She stood directly in front of the tomb door, one hand outstretched to touch the cold metal. Closing her eyes, she tried to imagine her mother standing before her.
“I love Luca, Mother, but I’m frightened,” she said. Tendrils of hair blew forward into her face. Her skirts fluttered in the breeze. “What if we fight? What if he grows weary of my company?” She laughed nervously. “What if we grow to hate each other?”
For a moment, Cass thought she heard someone else laughing with her, but when she opened her eyes, she was alone. The wind rustled her skirts again, blowing a loose clump of ivy away from the face of the Caravello tomb. The edge of a carving peeked out beneath the waxy leaves.
It was a cross.
Cass had been raised to believe in God, to believe that he had his children’s best interests at heart. That he was omnipotent and omniscient, as well as benevolent and merciful. But the things she had seen in the past couple of months—young girls dying before they had a chance to even live, evil thriving, justice not being served—they had shaken her.
Her trust in the Church.
Her faith in God.
Falco would think her a fool to still embrace religion. But in the end, good had vanquished evil. The pope himself had put a stop to the Order of the Eternal Rose. Yes, innocent people had died beforehand, but that was at the behest of wickedness. Nowhere in the Bible did it say that the existence of God meant there would be no agents of evil.
Cass understood why Falco felt the way he did, that it was easier for him to understand the death of his first love if he denied the existence of a higher power. And indeed, that was his right. It was his right to believe solely in science. Science could answer many questions.
But science couldn’t give Cass the answers she needed. She traced the outline of the cross with one finger. The figure had been revealed to her for a reason.
“Faith,” she said. “You’re saying I have to believe?” In what? Luca? Herself? The world? The ivy twisted in the breeze. Cass knew the answer was inside of her. She did believe in those things, but would that be enough?
It would have to be.
She headed back to the villa. Narissa was standing in the garden with Giuseppe, making grand sweeping gestures with her arms. Cass imagined her demanding rosebushes trimmed into the shapes of angels. Or perhaps she wanted the elderly gardener to stand on a ladder and pour buckets of water down into a basin to mimic a waterfall for the occasion. Doing her best to stay out of Narissa’s sight, Cass crept around to the front of the house. The grass was a lush carpet of green beneath her feet. Giuseppe had hired a crew of boys to cut the lawn and trim the hedges for the party. The villa looked the best it had in years.
A long dark gondola with bouquets of roses mounted on the prow bobbed in the water alongside the warped wooden dock. A banner displaying both the Caravello and da Peraga crests flapped proudly in the breeze. It must be part of Luca’s surprise, she thought. Perhaps he was going to take her on a romantic trip around San Domenico. Or someplace even farther away, like Mezzanotte Island. Cass laughed aloud at the idea of Luca’s surprise being another lesson in dagger handling from Rowan and his men.
But maybe there were other islands out past the Lido. Tiny private paradises where they could be completely alone. It would be nice, escaping with Luca, no secret orders, no prison breaks—just two people in love enjoying a bit of normalcy.
The gondolier, dressed in a brilliant scarlet-and-purple ensemble, beckoned to her with his long oar. “Your fiancé awaits you!” he called. Cass wandered across the lawn and down to the edge of the dock, stepping gingerly onto the mold-slicked wood, a thrill of excitement rushing through her.
The gondolier gestured at the felze. A black satin curtain hung low over the front of the compartment, its edges embroidered with hearts and moons.
Cass blushed. She imagined reclining in the tiny cabin with Luca, their bodies twining together as the gondolier slowly rowed them to parts unknown. It would be like the night they had spent together at Palazzo Dolce. She only hoped he would take her somewhere far enough away that Narissa wouldn’t be able to find them.
Smiling, she allowed the gondolier to help her over the edge of the boat. “Trying to run away with me, are you?” she said teasingly. She slipped behind the satin curtain.
And gasped.
Cristian rose up from the stuffed cushion. Cass barely registered the bend in his nose and pair of scars across his cheek before he grabbed her bodice with his trembling right hand and pulled her toward him. Fabric ripped. Her breath caught in her throat. His other hand produced a dagger from his belt. “Scream, and you die,” he hissed, jabbing the sharp edge toward her chest. The blade hovered just inches away from spilling her blood.
Cass ducked low and back, out of the dagger’s deadly path, exactly as Rowan and his men had taught her. She twisted sideways, one arm protecting her heart, the other lashing out. Her elbow slammed into Cristian’s gut, and he stumbled backward.
Lunging past the satin curtain, she threw her body over the side of the boat. “Run,” she yelled as the surprised gondolier looked on. “He’s a killer.” Water drenched her shoes and the hem of her dress, but Cass barely noticed.
A man she’d never seen before was disappearing around the side of the villa. Undoubtedly, a landscaper or tailor or wedding expert of some sort that Narissa had hired. “You there,” Cass screamed. “Help me.” The man didn’t even turn around.
Cass swore loudly. She flew across the front lawn, one hand holding up her soaked skirts. “Luca,” she shouted, desperately scanning the property. Her fiancé was nowhere in sight. She cursed again. She was reluctant to lead Cristian back inside the villa. He wouldn’t hesitate to stab his way through the staff to get to her.
“Stop,” Cristian shouted. Cass could barely hear his footsteps against the soft earth. She imagined him gaining on her, his hands reaching out to grab her hair or gown.
She needed a weapon, and quickly.
The kitchen—it’d be full of knives and probably empty since dinner had already been served. Once and for all, Cass would end this.
End him.
She had no other option. As she slammed the front door behind her, Cristian managed to get the toe of his leather boot inside. His shaking fingers curled their way inside the crack, skittering along the door frame like a poisonous spider. Cass spun and raced down the dark corridor, throwing anything she could find—lanterns, an unlit torch, a small painting—behind her in a futile attempt to hinder Cristian’s progress.
She plunged into the kitchen and was halfway to the knife rack on the far end of the counter before her brain registered that the room wasn’t empty. There were two servants washing dishes.
“Get out of here,” Cass yelled. They both turned to stare in amazement. She imagined what she must look like—wide-eyed, red-faced, soggy hem leaving a dirty trail across the stone floor. “Move!” She reached for the closest knife. But just as Cass’s hand closed around the handle, Cristian’s hand closed around one of the servants. The girl’s name was Flora. She had started working for Agnese less than a year earlier. Dragging her into the center of the room, he held his dagger against Flora’s throat.
Cass swallowed back a whimper. For a moment, her hands began to shake and the knife blade fluttered in the air. She fought the urge to panic. “Let her go.” The words came out strong and clear. “Don’t do this. It’s me you want.”
Cristian laughed, an ugly, brittle sound that made Cass’s insides twist. “I want both you and my brother. I shall watch both of you die.”
“You cannot—”
“Stop speaking!” Cristian shouted. His body coiled; his muscles tensed. A single bloody teardrop bloomed on Flora’s neck. “Drop the knife or I will slice her head from her body.”
