Assassin's Heart (Assassin's Heart, #1)(19)

The clipper before me stepped closer. The light from the moon showed brown splotches, reminiscent of ink blots, decorating his mask. Family Addamo, then. Alexi, to be specific. The other two I didn’t recognize. Mother always tried to get me to memorize every mask, to be able to recall every clipper in every Family by their masks alone, but I could only remember a select few from each. Unlike Rafeo, who knew every single one.

I loosened my spine. I could take Alexi, even with two others backing him.

Alexi lifted a knife and tapped it against his mask.

“You’ve taken us a bit by surprise,” he said. “We expected Rafeo.” He pointed his dagger at my mask.

I shrugged. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say we’re disappointed. The Da Vias will want to hear that a Saldana survived, and whether that’s Rafeo or you, doesn’t really matter to us. Either way, the Da Vias will be the first Family, and we’ll have earned their favor. And you’ll be dead.”

Above me, one of the Addamo clippers slid closer—a move he probably thought I wouldn’t notice. No wonder they were only the seventh Family. I tightened my grip on my knife. “You can give it your best attempt.”

I whipped the knife at the two on the roof. The first clipper dodged, but the one behind was midstep. My knife struck the tile roof at his feet. I grimaced behind my mask. Knife throwing had always been my weakest skill. But the Addamo clipper lost his balance on the steep roof. He stumbled, tripped, and fell off the edge, landing with a loud thump on the flagstones below. He rolled onto his side and lay still, the ground spreading with blood beneath his head.

One down, even with my feeble knife toss.

Alexi rushed me, switching his grip on the knife in his left hand. He jabbed. I blocked and kicked at his knee. He twisted, but not fast enough. My foot hooked behind his ankle, and I pulled him off balance. He stumbled behind Butters, who swung his rump, excited by the commotion. Alexi fell to his knees.

I sliced through the rope securing Dorian. I was holding my own, but I didn’t want to be denied a quick escape.

The remaining clipper jumped to the pergola and dropped behind me. He aimed a kick at the back of my knees. The kick connected, but I rolled with my knees bent, freeing myself from the close confines of the garden.

Finally, in the street, I found space to unsheathe my sword. I let it ring against its scabbard. The sound bounced off the brick walls of the houses around me.

Alexi, on his feet again, and the other Addamo approached me cautiously from the garden. I waited, steadying my staccato breathing.

I twirled my short sword in my hand, a move of bravado my parents would have been disgusted to see.

Behind them, Butters and Dorian wandered into the street.

“Come on.” I gestured the Addamos closer with the dagger in my left hand. “Or do the Addamos lack the edge to take a lone clipper outside her territory?”

My taunt did its job. Alexi charged, freeing his sword, the other clipper a step behind. Alexi lunged sloppily at me. I leaned away, dodging the swing, and jerked my knee into his gut. His breath left him in a whoosh. He stumbled, barely managing to keep hold of his sword. The other clipper rushed at me. This time I twisted inside his reach. A quick jab at his throat with my left hand and his life was over. He stumbled backward. His sword fell to the street with a clatter as he struggled to keep his life’s blood from pouring out of his neck.

Movement behind me. Dumb, to be distracted by my kill. But dumb of Alexi to come at me with such an obvious move. The Addamos had no grace.

I twisted. Alexi raised his sword over his head. Again, I stepped closer, and thrust my sword up under his ribs. He coughed, sword tumbling from his fingers.

I jerked my sword from his body as he collapsed to the street.

I wiped my sword and dagger clean as I caught my breath. It had been easy to kill them. Much, much too easy. I sheathed my weapons.

If this was an accurate representation of the other, lower-ranked Families, then the king was right. The only Family who could’ve ever expected to take out the Saldanas was the Da Vias. And they’d only been able to do so because of me.

Above me, a boot scraped on tile.

On the roofs, more clippers stared at me behind their quiet bone masks. Addamos, each one. I couldn’t take on the full dozen threatening me now.

The clipper in front, the leader and probably Alexi’s father, Nicolai, stepped closer, his hand raised in a signal to the rest of his clippers.

I took a step backward, toward my horses waiting for me in the street. I slipped my fingers in one of my pockets, closing my fist around two small spheres.

The Addamos watched me. My muscles flinched. They were hesitating, and the tension burned through my limbs. I couldn’t stand the waiting. . . .

I pointed at Alexi and the other clipper, dead at my feet. I shrugged. My flippant attitude would force their move.

Nicolai’s hand dropped and the Addamos charged, jumping off the roof.

I cast the spheres at the ground. Smoke bombs. The thin ceramic casing shattered, combining the two liquids inside and creating a thick, gray smoke.

I turned and leaped onto the nearest horse—Butters. He was still tied to Dorian’s saddle. I swore as I sliced through the rope.

The first of the Addamos dashed through the smoke, but quick pressure to Butters’s right side signaled him to kick out with his hooves, scattering the clippers.