Assassin's Heart (Assassin's Heart, #1)(24)

But Rafeo’s voice had been silenced. And the love between Val and me had been a lie.

My shoulder ached as my thoughts plagued me, and finally, after close to an hour, I sat back up.

Someone pounded on my door, but before I had a chance to answer, Brother Faraday slipped inside, latching the door behind him. He held a robe and a wide-brimmed hat in his arms.

“Brother Faraday?”

“There’s no time,” he whispered, handing me the clothes. “The Addamos have come looking for you. Well, looking for your brother Rafeo.”

I jumped to my feet. “What?”

“Put on the robe and hat. We’re going to sneak you out. You’ll have to leave your horse—Butters, was it?—but we’ll take good care of him. The rest of your belongings have already been packed.”

“I don’t understand.” I slipped the rough wool over my head. “How did they find me so quickly?”

“They must have left at dawn to get here so soon, though I suspect they’re checking as many monasteries as they can. And they haven’t found you yet. But they might if you linger.” Faraday opened the door a crack and peeked out. He glanced over his shoulder, and after I tugged the hat in place, hiding my hair, he gestured for me to follow him.

Voices trickled around the corner of the empty hallway—Brother Sebastian arguing with someone.

Faraday held up a hand and we ducked into an alcove. I clutched my key around my neck and listened carefully.

It wasn’t an argument, it was an interrogation from an Addamo clipper.

“He had to have stopped here,” the clipper’s voice echoed.

“I’m sorry, Brother, but no man called on us last night.”

The front door to the monastery opened, and another Addamo walked in. Faraday and I pressed our backs against the wall of the alcove.

“There’s a palomino stallion in the stables, well-bred,” the new clipper announced. “Could be the same one he was riding.”

“Well?” the first Addamo asked Sebastien.

I chanced a look. Sebastien bowed his head. “The horse wandered onto our land this morning. He had no tack to identify his owner. We are planning to keep him until his owner claims him. It is only right, considering how finely bred he is.”

“It’s awfully convenient.”

“I’d actually say it’s inconvenient,” Sebastien said. “Both for you and for the owner of the horse. Are you truly confident this clipper braved the dead plains at night?”

“Of course we are. He was arrow shot by one of my men. We watched him ride into the dead plains north from Genoni.”

“Perhaps he succumbed to his wounds? Or the fury of the ghosts? An injured man is more at risk for possession. Or maybe he returned to Lovero, through a different gate.”

The Addamos paused as they thought this over. “The Caffarellis could be hiding him,” one mumbled to the other. “Maybe he circled back on foot to the Lilyan gate.”

“Why don’t you come this way and I will get you some refreshments,” Brother Sebastien said.

One of the Addamos made a frustrated sound, followed by footsteps as they trailed after Sebastien. “The Addamos would pay handsomely for any information, of course.”

Whatever Sebastien said in reply was lost as they left the room.

Faraday and I waited a few more moments to make sure it was safe for us to move.

“You could’ve told them about me,” I whispered.

He shrugged. “Like the king, we do not support one Family over another. They should know this.”

“But by helping me, aren’t you supporting the Saldanas?”

“Haven’t you heard? The Saldanas are all dead, wiped out by the Da Vias. Anyway, it’s a disgrace they offered us money like we’re some sort of commoners. We, too, are disciples of Safraella, even if we don’t murder in Her name. Sometimes clippers forget this.”

I smiled. “When you’re a clipper, you’re schooled to think highly of your own importance.”

He peeked around the corner, then waved me forward. We scurried out to the yard. There a wagon waited, hitched to a chestnut mare. In the back rested my two bags, though the saddle and saddlebags had been left behind.

“Come.” Faraday gestured as we rushed to the wagon.

“Won’t we look suspicious?”

“We’re just two priests, going about our duties.”

Priests inside the city walls generally tended to the common, accepting offerings of blood or bone from people who hoped to gain favor from Safraella, seeing to their spiritual needs.

The monasteries on the dead plains, though, served many purposes, including offering sanctuary for travelers. But their two main duties as priests of Safraella were to play the role of cleaners on the dead plains—finding any bodies and returning them to their families if possible—and to pray for the angry ghosts.

At night, the priests would gather at the gates and pray for the angry dead, pray for their torment to end, for Safraella to offer them a rebirth so they could stop their endless searching for a body. No one knew if it worked, but the priests had faith.

“I have to say, I never expected a clipper to ride here in the middle of the night seeking safety.” Faraday took the driver’s seat and adjusted his own hat. I sat on the bench beside him. “You certainly brought much excitement with you.”