Starling (26 page)

decide. If I were you, I’d leave this place. Forget about the Order.
Save
yourselves.
”
Cass felt heat behind her eyes. She chewed her lower lip. “Will I
see you again?” she asked.
“I’m sure you will, if you want to.” Feliciana smiled tightly, her
own eyes misting up. “The world seems to enjoy giving you whatever
you wish.”
With that, she ducked past the line of flapping chemises and vanished into the night.
Whatever she wished?
Dead parents? Dead Siena? Dead Agnese?
Feliciana was speaking out of anger and loss. She didn’t mean that—
she couldn’t. Cass prayed her friend would forgive her, eventually,
but she couldn’t dwell on it at the moment. She had to find her way
back to San Domenico.
To Luca.
Hoping that the rain would hold off, Cass strolled quickly through
the darkening streets, following the musicians from the Castello district to the San Polo district to the San Marco district.
Fear shot through her as she approached Piazza San Marco. She
had not set foot in the piazza since the day she and Siena broke into
the Doge’s dungeons. Cressets mounted around the perimeter bathed
the area in dancing gold light. Nobles and peasants alike were out
in the middle of the square, spinning and swaying to music played by
bards and courtesans. Gypsies clad in brightly colored skirts swirled
through the masses, peddling protective amulets and brilliant
scarves. A handful of soldiers dotted the crowd, but they seemed to
have joined in the reveling, their helmets tossed carelessly to the
ground, their swords and daggers safely sheathed.
A flash of lightning lit up the water behind the Palazzo Ducale,
but everyone continued to dance, unworried about the impending
storm. Giant cloth banners depicting different crests whipped back
and forth in the wind. Cass had been to the Feast of Saints Peter and
Paul only once, when she was a girl still living with her parents on the
Rialto. They had taken her out into the crowded streets and let her
dance to the music before bedtime.
Then it had seemed like a merry, happy festival with dancing
smiling grown-ups, all of whom had grinned down at her and spun
her around in circles until she collapsed into a giggling heap.
But now things seemed different. Darker. Malevolent. Thunder
crashed above her head, and Cass jumped. The vendors moved
throughout the crowd hawking their wine and jewelry with loud,
forceful voices. The spinning dancers enclosed her, their circles
tightening, threatening to trap her in the piazza.
And then Cass saw a familiar face in the crowd. Dark eyes. Dark
hair. Dark skin. It was Piero Basso, Belladonna’s personal physician.
The man who had drugged Cass and drawn her blood while she was
unconscious. Panicked, she pushed past the circle of dancers and
craned her neck from side to side. If Piero was here, then Belladonna
was likely nearby. Perhaps they were looking for her.
Perhaps they were looking for her blood.
It had been a bad idea to come here. The gondoliers and fishermen were all merry and drunk. No one looked as if he wanted to
leave the party. Cass didn’t see Belladonna in the crowd. And now
she didn’t see Piero either. Had she imagined him, or was he working
his way around her at this very moment, preparing to sneak up behind her?