Assassin's Heart (Assassin's Heart, #1)(85)

An old man shuffled past, and I placed a hand on his shoulder. He turned his rheumy eyes to me.

“Excuse me, grandfather. What is the trouble? What is happening?”

He smiled a gap-toothed grin, pleased to be addressed. “Someone left the gates open, that’s what!” he exclaimed. “Ghosts just walked into the city. Lots of people met their ends last night at their hands.”

“Someone left the gates open at night?” Les asked, shocked. My neck prickled with dread.

“Isn’t that what I said?” The old man squinted at him. “What are you, some sort of traveler? I can tell just by looking at you!”

I turned the old man away from Les, who rolled his eyes.

“Do you know what happened?”

“I saw them myself! Heard a clatter from the streets and I looked out the window. A group of them, eight or nine at least, on well-bred horses. As soon as they got the gate open, they galloped out of here like ghosts were already after them.”

No, no, no! “Did you see their faces, grandfather? Did they wear masks crafted from bone?” I clutched the man’s hand between mine, his thin skin soft as expensive paper.

“Well, I can’t say as they were made of bone, but they definitely covered their faces. They were dressed all in black, too. I told the lawmen, but they didn’t think masks were important.” He spat to the side, narrowly missing Les’s boot.

I released my breath in a puff as any hope we’d be able to catch the Da Vias vanished. They’d left the city when it was still night. They’d reach Lovero a day ahead of us.

“I don’t understand,” Les said. He stepped farther away from the old man. “How could the Da Vias brave the dead plains at night?”

“They had a priest with them!” The old man pointed a bent finger at Les.

“A priest?” I asked.

“Yes! The priest had a hat and a staff of light. He lifted the staff high, and it surrounded them with light as bright as the sun. No angry ghost could reach them through that.”

I felt as if I’d been punched in the gut. The strange man I’d seen at Fabricio’s and in Yvain with the Da Vias—he was a priest. But not a priest of Safraella. When Safraella said the Da Vias had left the right path, She must’ve meant they’d taken up with another god.

I took a deep breath. Les squeezed my shoulder. This changed everything. Before, I was just going to kill them, make them pay for what they’d done to my Family. Now, now there were other gods, other priests involved. What had they granted the Da Vias in exchange for turning their back on Safraella? What if the Da Vias had some sort of blessing that would interfere with my plans? “Rot that Estella,” I swore under my breath.

“Lea.” Les leaned closer to me. “The plan’s still the same. Get to Lovero. Find your uncle. Kill the Da Vias.”

I took another breath and nodded. “Thank you, grandfather,” I said to the old man. He patted my hand before he walked away.

From the center of the crowd, a whistle blew, sharp and loud, followed by the voice of a lawman ordering the crowd to disperse. There was some grumbling and muffled protest, but for the most part the crowd went on its way.

We’d spent enough time in Yvain. I’d grown to like it—the canals, the flowers, the quiet cobblestone streets—despite my best intentions. But now it was time to return to Lovero and everything that awaited us there.

It took all my remaining coin and Les’s to purchase the horses. The mare was sturdy and reliable, but the gelding was years past his prime and used every opportunity to slowly steer Les toward window boxes.

Les hadn’t been lying about his horseback experience. Loverans were proud of their horses, but Yvain relied on its canals for transportation.

“Well, if we were taking boats, I might actually be of some use,” Les snapped at me after I’d had enough and finally tied his horse to mine. The gelding tried to tug itself free until my mare flattened her ears and kicked at it in irritation.

The gate to the city had mostly cleared as people went about their morning errands, though a few gossipmongers hung around in small groups. We passed the city wall, the clops of our horses’ hooves changing to thuds as they stepped off the cobblestones and onto the dirt road leading from the city.

We rode together quietly, lost in our own thoughts until I looked up and saw that the grasses of the dead plains had turned orange in the setting sun. Soon our path would be filled with the angry dead. And the Da Vias were still ahead of us. There was no way to catch them now. We’d have to hope that the Da Vias wouldn’t kill Marcello immediately upon their arrival.

Safraella wanted me to remind the Da Vias of what it meant to serve Her. And I was happy to do it. All I’d wanted for so long was to kill them, to make them hurt like they’d hurt me. But if we couldn’t get there in time to save Marcello, then what did it even matter? The Da Vias would have killed every last Saldana, even if I had been resurrected.

Brother Faraday’s monastery appeared over a grassy hill as the sun touched the horizon. I kicked the horses to speed their steps, and we reached the gates before the sun fully set.

“Lea!” Brother Faraday shouted as he ran down the monastery steps. I pushed my mask to the top of my head. He clasped my hands tightly and smiled.

Behind us, other priests took our horses to the barn, Les’s mount practically dragging his handler across the flagstones.