Assassin's Heart (Assassin's Heart, #1)(35)

Mysteries. He had cloaked himself in mysteries. I would have to keep my eyes wide open when I dealt with him again.

At my safe house, I removed the boards blocking the window and climbed in tugging the boards back into place. I dripped filthy, smelly canal water across the dusty floor. At a stack of old crates I slipped off my wet leathers and cloak. I yanked my mask from my face. It stared at me with Rafeo’s tiger stripes. I set it gently on the ground.

My shoulder burned with fresh pain. Where some of the stitches had popped, my flesh looked red and inflamed, though any bleeding had slowed to a trickle. Removing the bandages, I prodded the wound gently and was rewarded with a pinch of pain. Wonderful.

I hung my bandages up to dry and returned to my monastery robe before collapsing onto my saddle-blanket bed.

I’d only had a single lead, and it turned out to be nothing. Well, not nothing. A false clipper with a crooked smile. But not my uncle, whom I still needed to find.

I rolled onto my side, the heavy key around my neck resting against my chin. This wasn’t working—what had made me think it would be easy to find someone who’d remained hidden for decades? I couldn’t do anything right, starting with keeping my Family safe or trusting someone I’d believed I loved to not murder my Family while we slept.

Thinking about Val made my chest tighten, my skin flush. I shouldn’t have spared a single thought for him. His Family killed my Family. He should be dead to me.

But maybe he didn’t have anything to do with it. Yes, he’d lifted my key, but maybe he wasn’t even there.

He had to have known. He could’ve stopped it, or at least made an effort.

He could’ve warned me.

I probably wouldn’t ever be sure.

I rubbed my face with the palm of my hand, my calluses dragging against my skin.

There was no point in wondering about things. Val was a Da Via. Even if he wasn’t involved, he hadn’t done anything to stop what had happened. We were done, he and I. I had to kill his Family. I would kill his Family. I would make them bleed and choke and beg for mercy. As for him, I’d cross that crooked bridge later. Right now I needed to come up with a new plan.

The fake clipper was the key. He wasn’t the lead I’d expected, or wanted, but he was still a lead. He could bring me to Marcello, even if he didn’t realize it.

All right. I’d been delayed only a few days. And yes, the Addamos were after me, and I’d be a fool to think the Da Vias wouldn’t be after me soon, if they weren’t already, but I needed to keep my head down and find my uncle. And when I did, he would help me find and kill the Da Vias. Everything else was just distraction.

I didn’t know anything about my uncle. My father refused to speak of him, and all my mother ever said was he’d been exiled from the Family for killing his uncle, the head of the Saldanas at the time. Killing your own Family members was an anathema, so it was no surprise he was banished. And none of the other Families would take in a cast-out clipper.

Why he had killed his uncle, his own flesh and blood, was a mystery to me. The Da Vias and Maiettas were somehow involved.

He’d murdered his own blood, but I couldn’t help but think about how much I wanted to see him. Not just for my plans, but because he was all that was left of the Saldanas besides me. He was a link to everyone and everything I’d lost. I closed my eyes and clenched my hands to my chest. My grief was all I had left of my Family.

I exhaled slowly and released my fists. My burned palm ached.

I hadn’t gotten any real sleep in much too long. I’d need to catch up if I wanted to accomplish my plans for tomorrow.

I tucked my legs underneath my robe and thought of a boy with a long neck and a crooked smile.

Tomorrow, false clipper. Tomorrow I’m coming for you.

The next night my newly bandaged shoulder felt bulky and awkward under my leathers. I ignored it and instead relished the feel of the tiled rooftops beneath my boots as I headed north once again.

My uncle lived somewhere in this city. Alessio knew where. All I had to do was find him and follow him until he led me to Marcello.

Alessio thought he was a clipper, and maybe he had some natural talent for it, but he had no idea what it was like to deal with a real Loveran clipper. Probably even fumbling Alexi Addamo could’ve given Alessio a fight.

I reached the street near where I’d found him yesterday. I crouched behind a chimney, arranging my body and legs so I’d be ready to spring at a moment’s notice. No more taking things easy. This was a job. Alessio was my mark.

Patience was the first thing I’d learned as a child. Even before I began my training as a clipper at age six, my parents and nursemaids and tutors spent what seemed like hours each day, teaching me to wait quietly for the things I wanted. Looking back, I appreciated this early lesson. Especially since the streets of Yvain were so quiet and still once the sun set.

If I ever had children of my own, I’d definitely make them sit quietly before they got to have fun. All day long if I had to.

Of course, that life was over. When I found Marcello and killed the Da Vias, I would probably die in the fight. There was nothing left for me anyway.

It was a few hours past midnight when a man appeared below me. He hastened across a central square, pulling his felt hat low against the breeze.

It was strange to see someone out on the streets at night, but perhaps he had an emergency, something worth braving the ghosts for. The man walked quickly, trying to stay within the lights of any street lanterns that remained burning.