Assassin's Heart (Assassin's Heart, #1)(93)

“To be fair, the tunnels didn’t save your Family. Or my master.”

I nodded. “You’re right. Come on.”

The door to the manor was unlocked, and I pushed it open quietly. Before us extended a hall bathed in darkness. Les pulled out his cutter and held it loosely beside him. I left my sword on my hip, but selected a stiletto. I was finally here to avenge my Family. To end my guilt and shame.

We slipped into the dark hallway, letting our eyes adjust. Les reached behind him to shut the door and I grabbed his arm.

“Leave it open,” I said.

“Why? If someone comes across it, won’t it make them suspicious?”

I glanced out the door and past the broken wall to the dead plains. “It’s my backup plan.”

We walked quietly down the carpeted hall. There were no rooms or doors, only a straight path that led to a set of stairs and another door.

The stairs were solidly built and didn’t creak as we climbed them. At the door I glanced at Les. He tightened his grip on his cutter and gave a quick nod.

I slid Marcello’s key into the lock and turned. It clicked. I pushed the door open, and light spilled over us.

We’d entered the Da Vias’ home.





forty


THE INSIDE OF THEIR HOUSE WAS AS LAVISHLY DECORATED as I would have expected of the Da Vias. Rich tapestries hung on the walls, as did painted portraits of Family members throughout the ages. Les and I walked across the thick carpet. I should’ve been watching our path, listening for people, but I couldn’t help but stop and stare at a portrait of Val. He looked so stern in the painting; the artist had failed to capture his smirk of arrogance.

“Lea,” Les hissed. I abandoned the portrait to follow him.

The hall opened to a large grand room, the floor tiled in marble, columns supporting the ceiling that soared above our heads. I’d been to balls at the palace that didn’t have rooms as decadent as this one.

There was another door across the room from us. I felt exposed, stepping into the giant, open room, but we had to keep going.

We scurried across the room, keeping our footfalls light and searching the space around us. We reached the door and paused only a moment before we opened it and left the grand room behind.

Another hallway. This one had doors set in the walls. We stood before the first one, made of heavy oak.

The mark on my back twinged.

The door could have led anywhere, to a kitchen, a bedroom, another grand room. We could open the door and find it packed with Da Vias. But it was on the north side of the building, which was pressed up against the city wall outside.

“Do we open it?” Les asked.

We needed to stick with the plan. To find Marcello and then to burn the whole place down with the firebomb. Our time was limited, and if it ran out, I would have to make decisions I didn’t want to make.

But there was something about this door. Even if it was simply a bedroom, maybe we could find someone still sleeping and convince them to tell us Marcello’s location. It could be worth the delay.

I nodded. Les turned the door handle. My heart thudded in my chest and everything seemed too silent, too still. The door swung open.

It led to a bedroom, dark and empty.

There was no reason to explore it, to go inside and see what we could find. None. But my hand twitched. I crossed the threshold, slipping into the dim room.

There was nothing in it, only a canopied bed, unoccupied and rumpled. I faced Les and shrugged. Maybe my instincts had been wrong.

A figure launched out of the shadows, tackling me before I could bring my stiletto up. I was slammed to the floor. Hands scrabbled for my neck. Fingers dug into my throat, choking me. I bucked, trying to break free of him. Another shadow raced into the room. Les.

My attacker rolled off, dodging the slice Les had aimed for his head. I rolled toward Les and got to my feet, coughing.

“Are you all right?” Les kept his eyes on the Da Via, who circled us in the shadows.

I nodded and unsheathed my sword. Sloppy of us, to think the room was vacant. But if my attacker was armed, he would have pulled a weapon by now. It was two against one, and we were prepared for a fight.

I nudged Les, and we sprang at him together. Les swung left. I dashed right.

The Da Via swiveled his head and made a quick decision. He lashed out at Les with a bare foot, connecting with his thigh. It wasn’t enough to do more than bruise, but it caused Les to lose his footing. He stumbled, missed his swing.

The attacker turned toward me. I lunged, sword in my right hand, stiletto in my left. He dodged and grabbed my left wrist, squeezing my tendons. I jerked him forward, trying to free my hand. We stumbled into the light spilling from the hallway.

The Da Via was shirtless, dressed only in a pair of sleep pants. His sandy blond hair lay disheveled about his head. I gasped. Matteo.

My hesitation cost me. He ripped the stiletto from my fingers, flipping it around and brandishing it before him.

Les circled back to me.

“Come on then!” Matteo snarled.

I stepped away, breathing heavily. I pushed my mask to the top of my head. Matteo stared at me for a moment, his expression of rage slowly replaced by astonishment.

“Lea.” He lowered his weapon slightly.

“Surprised to see me?” My heart pounded in my chest, and not from the fight. I’d known he was alive. I’d known it. But I’d hoped I wouldn’t have to face him. I’d thought Safraella had been urging me into this room, but maybe I’d been wrong. Maybe it had been a warning instead.