He stared at me, then gave a small smile before he pushed me away, his hands fluttering against mine like moths against a lamp glass.
“It’s all right,” he whispered. His voice had no strength, and his eyes wouldn’t focus on me. I slipped off my own mask and clutched his hands, his blood slick between us.
“Rafeo, please hold on.” My voice broke, and tears dripped off my chin to land on his chest. How could this be my joyful, beautiful brother? How had we come to this? Had Safraella forsaken us?
No. Safraella was the goddess of death, murder, and resurrection. This dark work belonged to Her as well, even though we were Her disciples.
He took a deep breath. Then another.
“Da Vias,” he said.
Rafeo exhaled and died.
I clutched his hands to my heart. I bent over him, my forehead resting against his blood-soaked leathers. I tried to sing him my nursery rhyme, tried to tell him he’d be safe and warm once more, but my throat closed and I wept for my brother. Wept for all of us. We were lesser without him. The world was lesser without him.
It took me far too long to gain control of myself, but when I’d finally stopped my tears, I closed Rafeo’s eyes and dug around in his leathers until I found a coin. I placed it in his mouth.
It was fine. I would miss him—gods I would miss him—but he would be reborn. He was favored of Safraella. She would provide him with a good, new life. Maybe one without so much blood.
I grabbed my mask and left Rafeo in that tunnel. I’d come back for him later, but for now it would have to serve as his tomb.
I returned to the hatch, pausing at the bottom of the ladder to ready my knives.
They would pay for Rafeo. They would pay for it all, even if it cost me my own life.
I climbed the ladder and reached the hatch.
It wouldn’t budge.
I used the butt of my knife to pound against the wood. The sound thumped dully. Something must’ve been resting on it.
No. No, that wasn’t possible. I could not be trapped in the tunnel. Not when my Family needed me!
I pulled myself up the ladder, crouching below the hatch and using my shoulder and back to push against it. The hatch creaked. A small shaft of light stabbed into the darkness.
The air exploded in fire.
I screamed and fell to the ground, covering my head with my hands. An image flashed in my mind, of my hair catching fire and it consuming me. I batted at my face and head, but there were no flames.
I caught my breath. The hatch was closed again, sealing me off from the fire raging above. I was cut off from the house. From my mother. From everyone else trapped inside.
There was no way back, and I was alone in the tunnel with my brother’s body.
six
THE TUNNEL OPENED INTO THE BOTTOM OF A FALSE well, and I climbed my way to the top. By the time I stumbled into the city, the sun had risen. Yellow light reflected off the tiled roofs.
Dried blood and black smears from the tunnel covered my white nightgown. I stank like filth. I couldn’t be seen in public.
I blinked, and tears pricked my eyes again. Please, please let the others have escaped. Just because they hadn’t used my tunnel didn’t mean they couldn’t have reached another. There were six in total. Surely someone had gotten away. Surely I wasn’t alone. . . .
Shut up, Lea! I lifted my mask and rubbed my eyes. A clipper shouldn’t act this way. I needed to get control of myself. When I controlled myself, I controlled my situation.
I replaced my mask and took a few deep breaths.
First, I needed a change of clothing.
I headed to the closest safe house, a tapestry dealer a few streets from the well. Moving quickly, I managed to avoid being seen. Ravenna may have been an all-hours city, but the early morning was typically reserved for bakers and shop owners.
I slipped through the hidden entrance of the shop, its interior dim in the morning light.
I stripped, throwing the stained nightgown and pants as far away as I could. My mask rested on a table while I pulled everything of use from my cabinet.
The buckles, straps, and pockets on my leathers hid every knife in the cupboard. I tucked the small purse of money in my waistband, then ransacked Rafeo’s cabinet for his weapons and money as well, strapping a spare sword on my hip.
I paused before Jesep’s and Matteo’s cupboards. They’d been at home. I’d leave their cabinets be, in case they’d escaped the fire or the attackers.
The attackers . . . Rafeo had mentioned the Da Vias before he died.
I closed my eyes, sifting through memories of the fire, and the clippers in the smoke. Masks definitely, blank of any features. One side white and the other mottled with dull color. It was no use. The smoke had been too dense to identify the Family.
Of course, Rafeo might have been addled from blood loss. But he might have seen clearly. Maybe Val had been part of it. Maybe Val had snuck into my home while I slept to murder me and my Family.
No. No, it wasn’t possible. A vain, selfish show-off he might be, but he loved me. He wouldn’t betray me. . . .