Starling (77 page)

“That man who escaped the Doge’s prison, do you know what
became of him?” Minerva asked.
“I know he didn’t drown,” Cass answered. She couldn’t help but
wonder where Luca was, though. She prayed he hadn’t gotten himself
captured as well.
“Do you know for certain he is still alive?” Minerva asked.
“No,” Cass admitted. For all she knew, Luca had been recaptured by the Senate and executed. She didn’t believe that, though.
Despite their argument, Cass still held Luca inside her. Nothing else
could explain how calm she was. Nothing else could explain why
watching Minerva be tortured hadn’t driven her mad. Luca made her
stronger. She would know if something terrible had happened to him.
In the cell next to her, Minerva began sobbing into her tattered
blankets.
The room brightened again, and a guard entered with a tray of
bread and ale. He had black hair and a beard that covered the majority of his cheeks. A small wooden club dangled from his belt. Cass
had never seen him before. Her eyes were drawn to his hands. He
did not wear the ring of the Order. As she watched, he unlocked Minerva’s cell and set the food on the damp ground. Minerva stopped
crying, but made no move to retrieve the tray. He ducked out through
the room and returned with a second tray.
“I need nothing from you, you monster,” Cass said acidly.
The guard shrugged and turned to leave.
“Wait.” Cass immediately regretted her rashness. “I’m sorry. I’ll
take the food.” She would need to keep up her strength if she was to
have any chance to escape. Also, allowing the guard into her cell
might provide helpful information. She wanted to see what he did
with his keys when he brought her the tray, whether he left them outside the cell or put them in a pocket where Cass could possibly grab
them.
The guard returned with the food. He balanced the tray against
his body with one hand as he unlocked the padlock and unthreaded
it with the other hand. The cell door groaned as it opened outward.
Cass tried not to stare while the guard pocketed the keys and entered
the cell. The thick end of his club dragged on the ground as he bent
down to hand the tray to her. He had clear, kind eyes.
She took the tray and set it on the ground. “How can you do this?”
she asked suddenly.
“I’m not supposed to talk to you,” he said.
“But you’re not like them. I can tell.”
“I’m like them in the one way that matters,” he answered. “I don’t
want to die.”
“So you really believe her?” Cass asked. “The fifth humor? Immortality?”
“She rose from the dead,” the guard said. “It’s a matter of record.”
“It’s a matter of opinion,” Cass said. “My friend Madalena told
me that story. The caretaker of the graveyard decides to break into
her tomb and steal her rings. Only when he hacks through her flesh,
she awakens. It sounds to me like she wasn’t truly dead, just in a deep
sleep.”
“How do you explain the way she looks now?” The guard was so
close that Cass could have raked her fingernails down the side of his
cheek. He wasn’t at all afraid of her, and why should he be? She was
only a girl, after all. In the next cell, Minerva lay in a heap, about as
threatening as a dinner napkin. This guard didn’t know Cass had