Assassin's Heart (Assassin's Heart, #1)(67)

I turned the letter over, but that was all.

I set the letters on the floor and sank below the water. My mother had never spoken such words to me. She’d never told me how proud she was, and yet the letters had been filled with the eloquence of her love for me and my brothers. For our Family.

My heart and stomach twisted around each other, squeezing me with pain until I popped out of the water, choking for breath. It was an ugly trick of fate, to learn of my mother’s love for me only after she’d left me behind.

I scrubbed at my hair and my skin, cleaning every inch until my flesh was pink and sore before I climbed out of the water.

Marcello had given me Les’s clothing, a cotton shirt and pair of pants, to wear. Though they were freshly cleaned and folded, they still smelled like him. I held the shirt to my face, breathing in his cinnamon scent.

I had to roll up the pant legs and the sleeves and they were still too large, but the garments were clean and comfortable and I was happy to have them.

On the other side of the fire, my uncle slept in his chair. I let him rest, walking quietly past the tapestries blocking off the bedroom.

Les slept on his side, the blanket pushed below his arms, his dark, wavy hair resting on his shoulders.

I sat on the floor against the bed, my back to Les. I closed my eyes.

How had things gotten so confusing? It shouldn’t have been this way. I should’ve gotten the information I needed, killed the Da Vias, and been done with it all, one way or another. But instead my uncle had told me the truth about our Family, and with Les, I had found something to ease my pain.

I closed my eyes against the tears falling down my cheeks. I was so tired of crying, and yet I couldn’t seem to stop. I couldn’t seem to do anything right. I wished Safraella would tell me which path to take.

“Don’t cry, Clipper Girl,” Les said quietly. He shifted in his bed and brushed my hair behind my ears.

I rubbed the tears off my cheeks and faced him. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

He smiled tiredly. “Master said I needed to be wakened anyway.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’m sorry I got you hurt.”

“It’s not your fault. I was in the way. I should’ve trusted you knew what was best in the fight.”

“I should’ve trusted you to help,” I said. “I should’ve trusted you.”

“It doesn’t matter.” He closed his eyes and yawned, then shifted deeper into his pillow. His breath came slower as he sank toward sleep.

“Les,” I whispered.

“Hmm?” he answered, barely awake.

“What does kalla mean?”

He gave a little smile. “Beautiful.”





twenty-eight


MARCELLO THRUST A STEAMING CUP OF TEA INTO MY hands. “Drink this.”

I’d fallen asleep on the couch in front of the fireplace. I sat up, brushing my hair off my face. My bones and joints ached, both from the uncomfortable couch and from the fight. It would be a couple of days at least before I could move without pain.

I sniffed the tea, then sipped tentatively. It was bitter and strong, but the warmth spread through my chest and limbs and soothed some of my aches.

“I’ve cleaned your leathers,” he said, watching me drink. “When you’re done with your tea, you should leave.”

I finished the tea in a single, scalding gulp. “What time is it?” I asked, trying to cool my tongue.

“Past midnight. You’ll be safe to return unseen to wherever you’re staying.”

“You let me sleep so long?”

“You needed the sleep.”

I nodded. He handed me my leathers, and I walked behind the hearth to change. When I came out, he passed me my mask. It had been cleaned of dirt and blood, and I slipped it to the top of my head.

I glanced toward the bedroom and the tapestries. It was dark and quiet.

I’d made a decision before I’d fallen asleep. My stomach fluttered, seemingly warring with itself. It was easier this way, leaving without saying good-bye to Les. But a part of me, a very large part, had hoped he’d be awake. For what purpose, though, I couldn’t say. Maybe he’d try to stop me, or force me to stay, or just make things different, somehow.

But Les was asleep. And things couldn’t be different.

“You shouldn’t see him anymore,” Marcello said.

I closed my eyes. I couldn’t argue against Marcello’s opinion. Matters were only going to get worse. And in her letters my mother said I’d needed to focus on what was important. I had to focus on killing the Da Vias.

“Under two conditions,” I said.

Marcello narrowed his eyes.

“The first is you have to finish his training. If you don’t, he’ll get himself killed and it will have nothing to do with me. He thinks you’ll leave him if he argues too much about it, and that’s not fair to him.”

Marcello glowered, but then nodded.

“The second is the location of the Da Vias’ Family home. I need it.”

“No.” Marcello sliced the air between us with his hand, a gesture I’d seen from Les. “I will not be responsible for your suicide.”

“You could come with me. The last of the Saldanas together.”

“Alessio would come after us.”