Read Starling Online

Authors: Fiona Paul

Starling (55 page)

“The dagger is a destroyer and a
deterrent. Its power lies both in
action and in restraint.”

—THE BOOK OF THE ETERNAL ROSE
thirteen
T

he next day, Cass still felt miserable. She went through
the motions of working with Flavia, discussing the
meanings of some of Michel de Montaigne’s quotes.
Then, Flavia read aloud to Cass from
The Odyssey.
She was at the part where Odysseus blinds the Cyclops, one of the

scenes Cass had always found exciting, but today she couldn’t concentrate.

“Am I not doing well?” Flavia asked. “You’re making a face as if
you’ve bitten into a rotten fruit.”
“I’m sorry, Flavia.” Cass stroked the petals of her lily necklace.
“Your recitation is excellent. I’m just distracted.”
“Thinking about your former betrothed?” Flavia asked.
Cass was half tempted to remind Flavia of what was and was not
appropriate conversation, but she knew the girl wasn’t being malicious. “Yes,” she admitted.
“It’s not my business, of course,” Flavia said, resting the book on
her lap, “but Capricia, if you’ve apologized and pled your case, then
you’ve done everything you can. It’s up to him to decide if he can


120

forgive you. I know it’s painful, but you’ve got to stop dwelling on it.
You’re making me sad, and I’m never sad.”

Flavia was right. Cass reached out impulsively and gave her a hug.
“You’re so practical,” she said. “I’m glad I met you.”
Flavia beamed. “I’m glad I met you too.”
Cass took the book from her lap. “My turn to read.” She flipped
to a passage about Odysseus’s wife, Penelope, and read about how
she cleverly avoided marrying any of the 108 suitors who asked for
her hand in Odysseus’s absence.
What great, undying love,
Cass
thought.
After Cass and Flavia completed their lesson, they joined the rest
of the girls for dinner. Cass listened as Arabella chattered about the
patron she had acquired at last night’s party, and Seraphina and Flavia discussed which women in attendance had worn the most beautiful dresses. As she ate her bread and soup, Cass struggled to focus on
what the rest of the girls were saying. How was it even possible she
had run across Falco and Luca at the same gathering? They were the
sort of men whose paths never should have crossed. But there they
were, and now one of them wanted nothing to do with her and the
other refused to leave her alone. She rested her head in her hands.
“Capricia?” Flavia’s chirpy voice made her look up. “Did you
hear? Octavia’s assigned us wash duty for the rest of the afternoon.”
Splendid. Perhaps some manual labor would help her take her
mind off things. Cass needed to refocus on her larger goal. Find the
book. Destroy the Order. What happened with Luca and Falco was
less important.
After finishing her soup, Cass followed Flavia from room to
room, scrubbing down the linens, collars, and chemises that were
soaking in pails. She had never washed anything before and fumbled
at the simple tasks of rinsing and wringing out the linens. She tried to
mimic Flavia’s nimble fingers, but her own hands could barely handle the hot water. How did the washwomen go from palazzo to palazzo day after day? Their hands must be made of leather.
“I wonder why Octavia doesn’t have each girl do her own wash,”
Cass mused.
“Because some of them wouldn’t,” Flavia said. “They are so
lazy.” She tossed her dark curls. “Not me though. My mother taught
me never to be idle. I’ve got a meeting with a client tonight, a glassblower from Murano. You can come if you like. I believe he has a
pair of brothers.”
Cass shook her head quickly. “I think I might just do a little reading,” she said. “Or perhaps help Octavia out around the house.”
Flavia arched an eyebrow. “Are you certain? I hear the whole
family is quite good with their mouths.”
Cass cringed. She could teach Flavia an entire library full of classic literature, and the girl was still going to be prone to saying inappropriate things. “Maybe next time,” she said.
“All right,” Flavia said. “But think about what I said. About not
dwelling.”
“I will.” Cass wondered when Flavia had become the teacher and
she had become the student.
After completing her chores, Cass retired to her quarters on the
fourth floor of the house. As cramped as her little attic room was, she
loved the view. Her window had no glass, so when she pinned open
the shutters, she could easily look down on the narrow, twisting street
below. She watched the people scampering past, bright streaks of

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