Starling (36 page)

it with a glob of red wax. She left the letter in a basket on the small
table just inside the door to Palazzo Dolce. There were two other
messages there, and she assumed they would go out at the first light.

Later, as she’d promised Octavia, Cass took her breakfast with
Flavia in Palazzo Dolce’s bright and airy dining room. It was only
the two of them at the table, and Cass had a feeling many of the girls
enjoyed sleeping late.

Flavia wore a long flowing gown and had her tight curls pinned
high on top of her head. She’d applied a bit too much rouge and lip
stain for Cass’s taste, but otherwise had achieved the look of a sophisticated courtesan. She ate properly, taking small bites, mouth
closed, watching Cass as she did so.

Octavia had lent Cass a gown so that she didn’t have to put her
servant’s uniform back on. The sleeves were a bit too short and the
bodice was a bit too large, but Cass had spent several minutes
straightening her laces and adjusting her neckline in the tiny cracked
mirror of her dressing table before descending from the cramped
fourth-floor room where she had spent the night. Her hair was hopelessly tangled from blowing around in the storm, so she had twisted
it into a bun and secured it with a few pins she had found in the dressing table’s drawer.

Flavia started chattering about something, and Cass nodded congenially as she helped herself to a pastry and some wine and then
stared out the window. The day looked clear and bright; all evidence
of the storm had washed away. A brown-and-white bird dipped low,
beating its speckled wings before arcing gracefully back up into the
sky. Cass thought again of Luca. Perhaps fate would twine their paths
somehow. Otherwise she would remain separated from him until the
boats patrolling San Domenico went away.

A heaviness settled in her heart. It wasn’t just about strength in
numbers. Cass missed him, the way he listened to her impassioned
tirades about the Order, the way he calmed her.

The way he made her feel stronger than she truly was.
Flavia swallowed a lump of cheese and fanned her face with one
hand as she let out a hearty belch. Cass’s eyes widened. Perhaps the
girl would be a bit more of a project than she had anticipated.
“Sorry about your fiancé turning you out,” Flavia said pleasantly,
as if she were commenting on the weather. “I think you’ll like it here,
though.”
Cass bit into a slice of orange and sipped her wine delicately.
“Octavia says I’m to teach you a few things today,” she said. “Lesson
one is that it’s not polite to bring up certain topics of conversation.”
“Oh?” Flavia actually looked confused. Her cheeks went pink,
and Cass realized she hadn’t meant to be rude.
Cass softened her tone. “I realize you’ve more experience speaking to various men than I have, but the patrons you speak to here are
of a higher class than those at your previous place of employment.
Nobles expect different things from their women. Say for instance
you are with a man, and his ship has vanished at sea or he has lost a
lot of money on an investment. You wouldn’t want to bring that up,
you see?”
Flavia set her silverware down and leaned slightly toward Cass.
“Go on, Capricia,” she said.
It took Cass a second to remember her name was supposed to be
Capricia. “Men come to places like this to be distracted from their
problems, not to be reminded of them.”