Assassin's Heart (Assassin's Heart, #1)(34)

His teeth flashed. He was missing his first molar on his right side. “You found me.”

His tone reminded me of Val, all cockiness and self-assurance. Tricking me once was not a cause for so much bravado. If he kept it up, he’d wind up dead.

“It wasn’t hard.”

“After meeting you in the market today, and then seeing you here, I think I prefer you without the mask. Much prettier.”

My throat tightened. He knew who I was?

He pointed to his left hand. I glanced at mine and the burn on my palm. I flushed. I’d skipped my gloves because they’d been rubbing painfully against my still-healing palm.

Seventeen years in Lovero and never once had anyone seen my face unless I’d wanted them to. And now, after only a short time in Yvain, some faker had seen me. My parents would’ve been ashamed. Rafeo and Matteo, too. Not that Rafeo would have said so to my face.

I ground my teeth together. “I can tell you’re not a real clipper,” I said.

“How’s that?”

“To a real clipper, the bone mask is the most beautiful face of all.”

He blinked. “My name’s Alessio, by the way. Les.”

He waited for me to respond, and when I didn’t, he continued. “It appears I just keep running into you, Clipper Girl. I think it’s a sign from the gods. A sign you are meant to teach me your ways. Invite me into your Family.”

I snorted. I couldn’t help it. He seemed so serious, but any Loveran knew you couldn’t simply be invited into a Family.

His smile collapsed, and I felt a twinge of sympathy. Why did I even care? He was no one to me. I needed to focus. The only thing that mattered was making the Da Vias pay.

“You’re right,” I said. “I think it is a sign from the gods.”

He cocked his head.

“It’s a sign you need to tell me where to find your teacher.”

He tensed, his body taut with energy and danger. I tightened my own muscles, prepared to match him. Clearly I’d struck some sort of nerve.

“Are you even sure I have a teacher?”

“You’re sloppy. You have no grace about you, and you’ve displayed, more than once, your ignorance regarding clippers. But you aren’t untrained, only unfinished. Someone had to teach you the basics. Maybe someone who didn’t want to talk about his former life as a clipper. Someone who felt betrayed and hurt by his Family. Someone named Marcello Saldana.”

He held his breath, studying me. He exhaled. “He never told me he was a Saldana.”

I lowered my knife. I’d done it! I’d found my uncle. “I need to speak with him urgently.”

He shook his head. “No. He doesn’t see anyone.”

I pointed my dagger at him, staring him in his eyes. They were dark, and he had surprisingly long lashes. “I could make you tell me.”

He shrugged and raised his arms. “Then what are you waiting for, Clipper Girl?”

I slid my right foot forward, weapons held before me. “Have it your way.”

I dashed at him. His eyes narrowed before he dodged away. I swiped with my left knife. My shoulder erupted in pain, and a few stitches popped. The copper scent of blood seeped into the night air. I hissed, missing my strike.

He pushed himself off the wall and twisted closer to the canal, facing me. He held his own knife in his left hand now, a monstrous cutter almost eighteen inches long and slightly curved. Where in the hells had he hidden such a large weapon?

Blood soaked through my leathers, and he glanced at my shoulder. Concern flashed in his eyes. “You’re hurt.”

I used his distraction to strike at his ribs. “Worry about yourself!”

He glared and hooked my ankle with his foot, a move I knew only too well. A wolfish grin spread across his face.

“Wait!” I shouted.

He yanked and I fell, plunging into the dark waves of the canal.





fifteen


THE WATER WAS FREEZING FROM SPRING RUNOFF, AND it saturated my clothes. My cloak and boots weighed me down. I struggled, kicking against the fabric as I reached for the surface.

I broke through and took a deep breath. I grabbed the edge of the canal and searched the alley, but Alessio had fled. He seemed to enjoy starting things, but never stuck around to see them through.

“Typical.” I pulled myself from the canal, grimacing at the muck now coating my leathers. I squeezed my hair to prevent it from dripping into my eyes any further.

Damn him. Damn everything in this whole damned city. This whole country!

I’d been on my own for days now and nothing had gone right.

My shoulder bled. I pinched my eyes shut and took a few deep breaths. My chest felt tight against my leathers. My eyes stung. Don’t think about it, Lea. Don’t think about anything. Just get to your safe house, get clean and dry. Things will look better.

On the way back home I scoured the street where I’d confronted Alessio. Casings from the smoke bombs he’d somehow managed to use against me littered the cobblestones. I picked one up and sniffed. It smelled strange, a chemical I didn’t recognize. The casing was surprisingly brittle, and it crumbled between my fingers with barely any pressure. How did he stop them from breaking in his pouch? And how had he thrown them without me seeing him do so?

I remembered the flash, too, at the very beginning. I’d never seen smoke bombs put off any light before.