Assassin's Heart (Assassin's Heart, #1)(18)

“Be that as it may, there are other ways you could appease Safraella. You could pledge yourself to the church. Or you could continue on as a clipper.”

“Live my life cloistered away? Never. And the Families—the Da Vias—would never allow me to continue to serve Her as a clipper. They would not rest until I was dead.”

“You could marry into another Family. Surely one of them would be glad to have you.”

“I have no rank now, no status. And any Family that took me on would have to face the wrath of the Da Vias.” I shook my head. “None of them will take that risk for me.” And they couldn’t be trusted.

“No, this is what I must do. Alone, if need be. I’m the only Saldana left, anyway.”

He shifted in his seat, tapping his fingers together. “Fine. I see you cannot be dissuaded from your path. And that is your right. But you don’t have to do it alone. You are not, in fact, the only Saldana left.”

My heart skipped a beat. I leaned forward.

“If you’re interested, I can tell you where your uncle, Marcello, hid himself after leaving Lovero.”

My uncle Marcello. My stomach knotted. No one else had survived then. The king was referring to my traitorous uncle, who was better left forgotten. We did not speak of him.

I was truly alone.

The king leaned back in his chair. “The Da Vias and possibly even the Maiettas would pay dearly to learn where he is—”

“I will not sell out my uncle, estranged though he may be, to the Da Vias to save my own life. I will not give them the opportunity to shed any more Saldana blood.”

The king held up a hand. “You misunderstand. I offer you his location only if you wish to seek him out for help or Family obligation. Nothing more.”

“No,” I said. “I could not trust him.”

The king sighed. “Lea, I know the disaster surrounding Marcello was before your time, but I knew him quite well, and Marcello Saldana was trustworthy.”

I’d thought Val was trustworthy. I stood and picked up my mask. I was done. There was nothing the king could do for me. Would do for me.

He took a quill and a scrap of parchment from a drawer, as well as an inkpot. “If you change your mind, last I’d heard, this is where you can find him.”

He passed me the slip of parchment. I read the words. The city of Yvain in Rennes, Lovero’s neighboring country. I dropped the scrap into the lamp, and the flame burned it to ash.

The king stood and walked to the hidden door. He pressed on a latch and slid the door open before he stepped through. He paused, looking back at me.

“Besides,” he added, “Marcello Saldana would know how to find the Da Vias’ Family home.”

He closed the door, and I was left alone.





eight


I WALKED THROUGH THE STREETS OF GENONI, AVOIDING the large crowds this time of night. Maybe the king couldn’t help me, but calling on him had been the right thing to do. Even if I’d thought of Marcello, I hadn’t known where to find him, or that he knew how to find the Da Vias.

Marcello had to help me. We were blood, after all, family, even if I’d never met him, even if he was disgraced. And he’d once been Family, too.

Yvain, a tiny city, sat on the border of the country of Rennes, Lovero’s nearest neighbor. It would take a day to reach it, but if I traded off between Butters and Dorian, I would make better time. The more I thought about it, the more it seemed like a good idea. I’d reach the city of Yvain, find Marcello Saldana, enlist his help in destroying the Da Vias, then return to Lovero together and burn them out like the rat’s nest they were.

I closed my eyes and pictured them dying, their leathers soaked with blood, their eyes sightless, their breaths stilled. My vision drifted toward Val, and I snapped my eyes open.

I’d have to be quick about this. Sooner or later the Da Vias would learn I’d survived, and then they’d be after me. And if they chased me to Yvain, it could lead them right to Marcello. If the Da Vias could find him, they would kill him, too.

I’d collect the horses, find somewhere to hide for the rest of the night, and head out at first light when it was safest. If I had to stop, there were monasteries scattered on the dead plains.

I returned to the garden and found the horses waiting patiently. I freed Butters from the pergola and tied him to Dorian again.

I paused, the back of my neck shivering beneath my hood. Someone was watching me.

I scratched Dorian’s chin, my actions casual and unconcerned. Three of them, at least. Two on the roof of a nearby house and the other on the ground, hiding, poorly, behind a bush near the entrance. Terrible skills. Even Val could get closer to me, and he barely tried.

I bent over, lifting Dorian’s hoof, to give the appearance of freeing a wedged stone. I slipped my hand under my cloak and secured a pair of daggers. I didn’t have room in the cramped garden to unsheathe my sword.

I waited, certain one would make a move while I was “distracted.” It was what I’d do. Nothing happened.

Time to take the lead, then.

I stood and faced the entrance and the clipper hiding there. “Well come on, then!” I yelled. “You’re here for me, aren’t you?”

The two on the roof looked at each other. The third revealed himself at the entrance to the garden. They watched me silently. I’d taken them by surprise, and they seemed unsure how to proceed. Rank amateurs.