Assassin's Heart (Assassin's Heart, #1)(41)

I would never again dine with Val. Our secret meals, filled with laughter and flirting and stolen kisses, were gone forever, like my Family. I pressed my hand against my stomach, the Yvanese food like a stone in my gut. It wasn’t fair, that I could miss him so much.

“Sorry,” he said.

“What do you have to apologize for? You didn’t kill my Family.”

“This is the second time this morning I’ve said the wrong thing to you, and there you are, lost in your memories.”

I shook my head. “It’s not your fault. Almost everything reminds me of them. And that night.”

Like how Rafeo would’ve taken huge bites of this pocket bread, while Matteo would have picked it apart and eaten only the bits he liked. And how none of them would ever get to taste it, and how I couldn’t even tell them about it, couldn’t tell anyone about it because there wasn’t anyone left to tell. It was just me, alone, desperately trying to get some fake clipper to like me so he would put in a good word with my uncle, who’d turned out to be nothing like the Family I’d lost.

“Still,” Alessio said, pulling me from my thoughts. “I meant no harm.”

I cleared my throat. “The other night. And last night, too, you used some sort of smoke bombs. But I never saw you throw them. And they were different, too. They flashed.”

Alessio smiled widely. “That’s my own invention. It’s effective, isn’t it?”

“But how did you throw them without me seeing?”

He took a sip of his water. “I didn’t. They were in place beforehand. They’re timed to go off. Actually, the ones you saw firsthand were a little late.”

Timed smoke bombs. My mind raced, thinking through ways they could be of use. The possibilities were astounding. Especially if they could be rigged for something other than smoke—

Wait.

“They flashed when they first went off.”

He nodded. “The time bombs use a different chemical reaction than the regular smoke bombs. It’s actually a small fire that’s extinguished by the smoke. They’re mostly free of danger.”

A small fire extinguished by the smoke. “Could it be a bigger fire?” I asked. “Something that isn’t extinguished? A kind of firebomb?”

His eyebrows creased, and he stared at me. “I don’t know. Maybe. Why?”

“You asked me if I would train you that first night. Isn’t my uncle training you?”

“This seems an abrupt change of topic.”

I stayed quiet, waiting for him to respond. He took another sip of water, organizing his thoughts. “My master hasn’t been a clipper in close to thirty years, and I had to beg him to teach me, beg him. Finally he relented, because he thought it would keep me safe. When he discovered I’d started taking jobs last year, he stopped all my training. He doesn’t approve, thinks I’ll get hurt or worse. When I saw you that first night . . . you’re the only true clipper I’ve ever met.”

He watched people as they walked past our table. “All I’ve ever wanted to be was a clipper. And I thought, here’s someone who can teach me. Truly teach me, if she’s willing.”

“Why would you want to be a clipper?” I asked. I’d been born into this life. And, yes, in Lovero most people would claw at the chance to join a Family, for the power and wealth and status. But there was no prestige for clippers here.

His eyebrows twitched. “When I was a boy,” he started slowly, weighing his words, “my mother was robbed and murdered. And I was orphaned and living on the streets, hiding in dark corners once the sun set, raging over the man who had taken my family from me, terrified of the angry ghosts and despairing of loneliness. And then my master found me.

“He brought me to his home, a hidden palace beneath the streets of Yvain, and he fed me and clothed me and kept me safe. And as we grew closer he told me about his life before, and of Safraella, and I knew that was where I belonged. Serving a goddess who would promise me another life after this one, if I followed Her dark design. If my mother had been Her follower, I would’ve slept easier after her death, knowing she had been granted a new life.

“This is why I want to be a clipper. My master, he gives me glimpses of what that life can truly be, but he keeps me from fully embracing it. You could give it to me. You could teach me. We could rebuild your Family.”

Rebuild my Family. All I’d been thinking about was destroying the Da Vias. I’d assumed I’d die in the process. But if I didn’t and I killed them all and still lived, if Alessio was right, maybe the Saldanas could still be one of the nine Families.

It wouldn’t be the same, without my mother and father, my brothers, my cousin and nephew. And the Saldanas would never be the first Family again, not in my lifetime. Not even with the king’s good graces. But maybe we could reclaim our territory, return to our duties of serving Safraella. Move past the horror of that night.

No. It wasn’t possible. My Family was gone forever. Destroying the Da Vias was my only goal. Recapturing all I’d had before was a daydream, nothing more. There was no point holding on to that dream.

But without Marcello’s help, it would be impossible to take down the Da Vias alone.

I glanced at Alessio. He was unfinished, but he’d shown some skill. And he knew the secret to making those timed smoke bombs, which could maybe be modified to better fit my needs. He had offered to help me kill the Da Vias. He said it was for no ulterior motive, but I couldn’t trust him. He wasn’t Family or family. If he was going to help me, it needed to be some sort of equal exchange. No one was owing anyone in this city of flowers and debts.