Assassin's Heart (Assassin's Heart, #1)(6)

Fabricio’s appeared before me, lanterns flickering. My breath eased in my throat, and I strolled casually to the front door. The restaurant pressed against the crumbling city walls. The walls had once been used to keep the ghosts out, but with Safraella the patron goddess of Lovero, the ghosts couldn’t enter Loveran borders, even though the walls were cracked and collapsed. Ghosts could not cross onto holy ground, and now all of the country was considered holy. Before that, the ghosts would haunt the streets at night, stealing bodies and forcing people to hide in their homes. Now the ghosts just haunted the dead plains.

A small crowd of people waited at the entrance. A pinch-faced woman on the arm of a man dressed in colored silks too gaudy for the season glanced at my dress and sniffed.

Val dropped from Fabricio’s roof to land beside me. The woman shrieked.

He wore black velvet with gold brocade visible through slashes on his sleeves. An elegantly stitched gray leather vest matched his knee-high boots. Diamonds winked in his ears, and a ruby ring flashed on his left pinkie. Val didn’t purposely flaunt the Da Via wealth, but it was hard to ignore.

He scanned the crowd, including me.

I blinked slowly and nodded to him. A silent boast that said, I beat you here.

He nodded back, politely. As expected.

And though his eyes sparkled like his diamonds and a smile twitched at the corner of my mouth, no one would guess we were together. Which was how it needed to be. No one could know about us.

My breath caught in my throat as Val strode past the crowd to the doorman. The secrecy sent a thrill straight through the tips of my fingers.

“Ah, Master Da Via.” The doorman bowed deeply. “How wonderful of you to think of us on this lovely night.”

“My usual table, please,” he said.

The doorman bowed once more. “Come, come, I will seat you immediately.”

Val and the doorman disappeared inside. When the doorman returned, I stepped up next, earning a glower from the pinch-faced woman.

“Mistress Saldana, you grace us with your presence.”

I glanced over my shoulder, and the woman’s glower turned into surprise as she recognized my name. When our eyes met, she dropped her gaze. I smirked. Where was her haughty attitude now?

The restaurant was packed, tables filled with couples enjoying a romantic meal, or more lively guests whose libations caused them to laugh too loudly.

I scanned the room for anyone who might recognize me. Val and I had entered separately, but it never hurt to assess one’s surroundings.

The doorman led me into a small, curtained-off room. Inside sat a table for two. The curtain closed behind me. I waited three breaths before I tapped on the left-hand wall.

The wall slid aside, and I ducked through to an identical room so no one in the restaurant would see us seated together. This room housed Val, waiting for me, curtain closed against prying eyes. I slid the wall closed.

He took my hand and kissed it, his lips soft and warm against my skin. I pulled away but could feel the blush spreading across my cheeks. “Don’t be ridiculous,” I said.

He pulled out my chair and I sat down. He adjusted my snood, and his knuckles brushed against the back of my neck, lingering before he stepped away. I shivered.

We sipped the house wine and ate crusty bread and nutty cheese while we waited for our main course of duck in fig sauce.

“Did your father truly speak to the king about marking kills?” he asked. “Because my aunt won’t be happy about that.”

“Does Estella truly believe not offering the coin will not offend Safraella?” Yes, Family came before family for clippers, but allegiance shouldn’t ever come blindly.

“I don’t know what Estella thinks. And I’m not going to ask her.”

A waiter appeared and served the duck. The greasy skin of the bird crackled, still hot from the fire. The scent of fresh rosemary and olive oil floated past me, and my stomach rumbled.

I was tired, and not just from the poison. “Why are we even talking about this? I don’t have any sway over my father. And we both know your aunt is crazy.”

He reached across the table and squeezed my hand. Heat trailed down my body, and I squeezed back.

“That she is,” he said. “A man-hating old bat. But I suppose we have your uncle to thank for that.”

I pulled my hand away and drank my wine. “We don’t talk about Marcello Saldana.”

“Which is funny, because my aunt rarely shuts up about her hated ex-husband. But don’t let anyone else hear you speak against Estella so. She’s the head of our Family for a reason, and the others would not stand the insult, even from a Saldana.”

“You mean especially from a Saldana.”

He grinned.

We attacked the bird, talk subsiding. When full, I set my napkin on the table and watched Val as he finished off the wine in his glass. He smiled. I used to think Val was vain and spoiled and self-indulgent. Now . . . now I felt the same way, but there was something to be said for capturing a vain man’s gaze. And once I’d gotten close, it became apparent that much of that vanity was a shield he used to keep people away. The Da Vias were cutthroat, even in their own Family, and he had few people he could fully trust.

From outside our room a waiter’s voice crept past our curtain as he spoke to another server. “Mistress Da Via would like her duck more rare.”

We glanced at each other, and Val rubbed his eyes. “Damn it.”