tiny part of me, the part I hate, the part I can’t cut away, the part he preyed upon, is mourning him.”
She turned to face him. Her eyes glistened.
“And the rest of me is just trying to understand what my life is going to feel like, now that I don’t have to be afraid of seeing his shadow on my doorstep. I know it’s a good thing. I just don’t know what it’s
like
not to be afraid.”
Felix thought he understood. Not the details—he couldn’t guess what Basilio had done to her, and it wasn’t his secret to know—but the Puppet Master of Mirenze had a talent for worming his way into his victims’ lives. Devouring them from within.
His daughter wasn’t bad at it either.
“Whatever Lodovico’s planning,” he said, “he’s a double threat with Aita at his side. Together they’ll practically rule Mirenze—him by day, her by night. But that can’t be the whole plan. He’s got something bigger in store. Something to do with the crusade.”
Sofia walked around his chair. He felt the ropes tug as her knife sawed through, setting him free. He rubbed his raw wrists, wincing.
“The question is,” she said, coming back around to look him in the eye, “what are we going to do about it?”
“We?”
“We.”
He gave her a lopsided smile. “The Rossinis and the Marchettis working together.”
She offered him her hand.
“Let’s call it a tactical merger,” she said.
He clasped her hand and rose to his feet.
“Does Lodovico suspect you’re onto him?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Good. Let’s divide and conquer: you try to ferret out what he’s up to, while I go after Aita.”
“Go after her?” Sofia frowned. “Felix, if only
half
of Basilio’s men went to work for her, she’ll still be better protected than the emperor himself.”
“Not directly. I’ve got an idea to hit her where it really hurts: her coin purse. I’ll need some seed money, though. I don’t suppose I could get a small, off-the-books loan from the Banco Marchetti?”
“Words,” she said with a smile, “I’m certain you never expected to speak.”
He shrugged and gestured to the cellar door.
“Life is strange, Signora. Mine? Stranger than most.”
Chapter Nine
Livia slept as a fire crackled in her hearth, casting her bedchambers in a hazy warm glow. She wasn’t sure how long she’d spent curled up under the heavy blankets; she’d passed out after her return to King Jernigan’s keep, and woken again just long enough to beg for solitude and silence. The attention, the noise, the groping hands of the crowd around her—it was too much, and the marrow of her bones had ached since performing her “miracle” to save Kailani’s life.
She knew the headaches she’d been having were connected to that first burst of wild magic, driving off her would-be assassins. If anything, she felt even worse when she opened her eyes now, her sight bleary and eye muscles struggling to focus. She slipped out from under the blankets with a groan, kneeling down on the cool flagstone floor and reaching under the mattress. She still hadn’t read all of Squirrel’s lessons, and hopefully she could find something to explain the aftereffects. Even more hopefully, something to make them go away.
Her fingers strained, stretching for…nothing.
Livia froze.
Fighting a groundswell of sudden panic, fumbling, she pushed the mattress up with both hands and revealed her empty hiding place.
Someone had stolen Squirrel’s book.
And that someone
, she thought, jaw clenched as she sprinted to her wardrobe,
knows I had it. Someone knows that the pope had a book of witchcraft under her bed
.
She flung on a gown. Dragged a brush through her knotted hair with the force and grace of a carpet beater, trying to tame her raven-black tresses into something remotely presentable. Then she decided she didn’t care about being presentable and ran for the door.
Two of her Browncloaks stood outside on sentry duty. One held up his hand,
She turned to face him. Her eyes glistened.
“And the rest of me is just trying to understand what my life is going to feel like, now that I don’t have to be afraid of seeing his shadow on my doorstep. I know it’s a good thing. I just don’t know what it’s
like
not to be afraid.”
Felix thought he understood. Not the details—he couldn’t guess what Basilio had done to her, and it wasn’t his secret to know—but the Puppet Master of Mirenze had a talent for worming his way into his victims’ lives. Devouring them from within.
His daughter wasn’t bad at it either.
“Whatever Lodovico’s planning,” he said, “he’s a double threat with Aita at his side. Together they’ll practically rule Mirenze—him by day, her by night. But that can’t be the whole plan. He’s got something bigger in store. Something to do with the crusade.”
Sofia walked around his chair. He felt the ropes tug as her knife sawed through, setting him free. He rubbed his raw wrists, wincing.
“The question is,” she said, coming back around to look him in the eye, “what are we going to do about it?”
“We?”
“We.”
He gave her a lopsided smile. “The Rossinis and the Marchettis working together.”
She offered him her hand.
“Let’s call it a tactical merger,” she said.
He clasped her hand and rose to his feet.
“Does Lodovico suspect you’re onto him?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Good. Let’s divide and conquer: you try to ferret out what he’s up to, while I go after Aita.”
“Go after her?” Sofia frowned. “Felix, if only
half
of Basilio’s men went to work for her, she’ll still be better protected than the emperor himself.”
“Not directly. I’ve got an idea to hit her where it really hurts: her coin purse. I’ll need some seed money, though. I don’t suppose I could get a small, off-the-books loan from the Banco Marchetti?”
“Words,” she said with a smile, “I’m certain you never expected to speak.”
He shrugged and gestured to the cellar door.
“Life is strange, Signora. Mine? Stranger than most.”
Chapter Nine
Livia slept as a fire crackled in her hearth, casting her bedchambers in a hazy warm glow. She wasn’t sure how long she’d spent curled up under the heavy blankets; she’d passed out after her return to King Jernigan’s keep, and woken again just long enough to beg for solitude and silence. The attention, the noise, the groping hands of the crowd around her—it was too much, and the marrow of her bones had ached since performing her “miracle” to save Kailani’s life.
She knew the headaches she’d been having were connected to that first burst of wild magic, driving off her would-be assassins. If anything, she felt even worse when she opened her eyes now, her sight bleary and eye muscles struggling to focus. She slipped out from under the blankets with a groan, kneeling down on the cool flagstone floor and reaching under the mattress. She still hadn’t read all of Squirrel’s lessons, and hopefully she could find something to explain the aftereffects. Even more hopefully, something to make them go away.
Her fingers strained, stretching for…nothing.
Livia froze.
Fighting a groundswell of sudden panic, fumbling, she pushed the mattress up with both hands and revealed her empty hiding place.
Someone had stolen Squirrel’s book.
And that someone
, she thought, jaw clenched as she sprinted to her wardrobe,
knows I had it. Someone knows that the pope had a book of witchcraft under her bed
.
She flung on a gown. Dragged a brush through her knotted hair with the force and grace of a carpet beater, trying to tame her raven-black tresses into something remotely presentable. Then she decided she didn’t care about being presentable and ran for the door.
Two of her Browncloaks stood outside on sentry duty. One held up his hand,
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