Starling (136 page)

voice and come to find her. Cass scooped up the gray-and-white cat
and held his forehead against her own. He purred loudly, giving her
cheek a single lick with his scratchy pink tongue. Cass giggled and set
him back on the floor. “Come downstairs with me,” she ordered.
Slipper trotted obediently after her, making his way down the tall
steps one at a time.
With the journal tucked under her arm and the ring of keys heavy
in her pocket, Cass lit a candle and headed for the storage room.
Slipper scurried into the room ahead of her, stopping to sniff at one
of the nearest trunks.
As curious as Cass was about her inheritance, she was more curious about the journal. She sat down on the crates that had served as
Luca’s makeshift bed. Flipping through the keys, she slipped the
smallest one into the lock and the journal opened with a click.
Cass opened the book to a random page and smiled. There were
paragraphs about Narissa constantly hovering over Agnese, and
Bortolo falling asleep instead of doing his duties. Cass saw her own
name mentioned repeatedly—usually descriptions of how she was
becoming more beautiful every day or reminded Agnese of her
mother. Cass’s eyes dampened as she flipped through the pages.
Agnese wrote of doctor visits, of how exhausted she was becoming,
of how she tried to be strong because she wanted to be present at Cass
and Luca’s wedding but how she knew her time was nearing.
Luca, Cass read, was Agnese’s recommendation to her parents.
He was kind and dependable and came from parents who had raised
him to be a good man. Agnese hadn’t found her own “good man”
until she was in her twenties. She didn’t want Cass to have to wait so
long.
Cass wiped away a tear, but another one replaced it. She choked
back a tiny sob. Agnese had cared for her so much, even before Cass
had come to live with her. She remembered being scared of her stern
aunt when she was a child, but all Agnese had wanted was to make
sure her niece was properly raised and that she would always be
loved.
Flipping to the very last entry, she read the words aloud:

Donna Domacetti stopped by today and took great pleasure
in informing me that they had called off the search for
Cassandra and Luca. Officially declared dead, she told me,
patting my hands as she spoke. I nodded along as she
rambled about how foolish Cassandra had been to think she
could break into the Palazzo Ducale and live to tell about it.

But Cassandra’s body was never found. Nor was Luca’s.
And even though I will accept condolences and pretend as if
I am filled with grief, I know in my heart my niece is still
alive. Luca’s love for her was powerful, and I sensed that her
feelings for him were deepening before his imprisonment.
That sort of connection strengthens people. Love strengthens
people. And Cassandra and Luca have always been two of
the strongest people I know.

I know Cassandra would send word to me if she could, but
she is too smart. The safest thing is to let the world pretend
she and Luca are dead. I pray one day I will see my niece
again, but my condition seems to deteriorate each day, and I
feel my time is drawing near. If I am not meant to see her
again, I pray she and Luca stay safe together, and that this