Starling (115 page)

arm.
“It’s all right, Signorina Cassandra,” he said. “That is Rowan. My
brother.”
“Your brother?” Cass looked from one man to the other. There
was a slight resemblance, but why was Maximus’s brother living on a
remote island? And why was he holding a blade to Luca’s throat?
“My parents died when I was a child, and my brother raised me,”
Maximus said. “Rowan was a warrior who made an enemy of his
laird. We were forced to flee Scotland when I was eight years old. We
went from country to country, but the bounty on his head was high
enough that we were constantly being pursued.” Maximus bowed as
Rowan looked in their direction. “I actually lived six years on this
island. I couldn’t wait until I was old enough to return to civilization.”
“Not bad for a noble.” Rowan sheathed his sword and helped
Luca back to his feet. “Not bad at all until you let the woman distract
you.” He chuckled. “Happens to the best of us, I suppose.”
Luca didn’t answer. He left his own sword lying in the grass and
hurried over to Cass, stopping a couple of feet away, folding his
hands awkwardly in front of his body. “What are you doing here?”
he asked.
Cass wanted to embrace him, but given how they had left things,
she wasn’t sure if it was appropriate. The space between them felt like
a great yawning chasm.
“I’ll just leave you two then,” Maximus said. He crossed the
campo to where Rowan stood watching two men fight with spears.
“What are
you
doing here? What is this place?” Cass noticed
some of the men had stopped fighting. A few stood apart from the
action, staring at her with undisguised desire. She slid a bit closer to
Luca.
“The Blood of Midnight.”
“Right.” She tucked an unruly piece of hair back behind her ear.
Was it something in the air that made everyone feel the need to be
mysterious? “And what exactly does that mean?”
“It’s a place where people learn . . . skills,” Luca said. His eyes
sought out something far away from her, some invisible thing out in
the Adriatic.
“For what purpose?”
“For the purpose of destroying the Order, Cass.” Luca shucked
off the chain mail and let it fall to the campo. He wore a plain white
shirt underneath. “My future was you. You, and finishing what my
father started. When I walked away that night, destroying the Order
was all I had left. If I cannot find the book, I swear to you, Cassandra, I will kill both Belladonna and Joseph Dubois.”
“Belladonna is dead,” Cass said softly. She reached out to stroke
the prickly growth of blond beard on Luca’s chin. “And Dubois has
the book. I’m almost certain of it.”
“Then we will lay siege to Palazzo Dubois and demand the book
or a full confession,” Luca said, stiffening slightly at her touch. “One
way or another, the men and I will end things.”
“But your wound,” Cass said haltingly. “Can you possibly fight?”
She glanced toward his injured shoulder.
“My wound is healed.” He rolled his arm in a circle as if to prove
his point.
Cass was still trying to reconcile things in her head. Quiet and
studious Luca da Peraga dressed for battle, wielding a sword and