Starling (132 page)

Flavia’s brow furrowed. “Octavia told me it was a tale of one girl’s
undying loyalty to her brother.” She looked past Cass to where Feliciana sat. “Perhaps your friend could read with us.”

“I cannot read,” Feliciana said. “But thank you for the invitation.” She bowed her head slightly. Ever since Cass had taken her
hand as they fled the palazzo together, Feliciana had been a ghost of
her former self. Cass knew this feeling, what it was like to be tormented by guilt.

“Cass can teach you,” Flavia said brightly. At Feliciana’s look, she
leaned back from the open door. “If you wish it, that is.”
“Another time,” Cass said gently. She reached out to touch Flavia’s shoulder. “We’ll see you at dinner.”
Flavia disappeared with her book and Cass turned back to Feliciana. “She means well,” she explained. “Just a little enthusiastic
about certain things.”
“She’s beautiful,” Feliciana said. “All of these women are.” She
turned to study her own reflection in the mirror, running a hand
through her fine golden hair. “It seems like forever before I will be
beautiful again.”
Cass almost laughed aloud. Was it possible that stunningly gorgeous Feliciana really thought the loss of her long hair had made her
ugly? “You are as lovely as any of the women here,” she said.
“You really think so?” Feliciana looked toward the window. “You
really think men would want to spend time with a girl who looks like
a boy?”
This time Cass did laugh. “I assure you, you do not look like a
boy,” she said drily. “I’m sure there are plenty of men who would
prefer your current . . . unusual look.”
Feliciana brightened. “If you were my sister, I might think you
were just saying that to be kind. I miss her so much . . .”
“I miss her too,” Cass said, taking Feliciana’s hand.

The men from Il Sangue de Mezzanotte agreed to protect Palazzo
Dolce for the next few days in case Dubois’s men came calling. Cass
felt safe knowing that Rowan and the others were standing guard
around the house.

When Luca awoke, he and Cass read the Book of the Eternal
Rose together. Cass skimmed past pages of chemical notations and
equations and long lists of measurements and research data until she
came across several journal entries by an unnamed source. The first
one talked about how the Florentine chapter of the Order had procured blood. Initially their members had given it willingly, but eventually they had started seeking blood elsewhere—purchasing it or
stealing it.

The next two pages detailed the discovery of the fifth humor, how
the Order had experimented with differing ratios and heating temperatures to recombine the four humors extracted from the blood.
Then Cass flipped to a page that mentioned a pair of Venetian prisoners. Her heart went still for a moment. Her hands trembled as she
read the rest of the passage. No names were ever mentioned, but the
prisoners were described as a married couple, former Order members. It was her parents. It had to be. They had been exposed as traitors when someone turned them in for stealing pages of the Book of
the Eternal Rose. They had been lured back to Florence and held
prisoner. Belladonna’s father had discovered that the blood of the
woman produced a pure sample of fifth humor. There was no men