“Trust me on this,” he said. “It’ll change your view of Yvain.”
Good food, and it was good food, always put me in a better mood. The lamb had been perfectly seared and seasoned with lemons, olives, and unfamiliar spices that left a pleasant, sweet taste lingering in my mouth. The fruit had been soaked in wine and burst with flavor. Alessio was right. I’d been missing out on some of Yvain’s finer points. There may not have been many, but the food might have been one. And maybe the flowers, too. They smelled nice, after our meal.
“Didn’t I tell you?” Alessio smiled as I licked my fingers clean.
“Yes, you did. You were right. I haven’t eaten this well since before . . . well. Since before.” It had been with Val, actually. At Fabricio’s.
I would never again dine with Val. Our secret meals, filled with laughter and flirting and stolen kisses, were gone forever, like my Family. I pressed my hand against my stomach, the Yvanese food like a stone in my gut. It wasn’t fair, that I could miss him so much.
“Sorry,” he said.
“What do you have to apologize for? You didn’t kill my Family.”
“This is the second time this morning I’ve said the wrong thing to you, and there you are, lost in your memories.”
I shook my head. “It’s not your fault. Almost everything reminds me of them. And that night.”
Like how Rafeo would’ve taken huge bites of this pocket bread, while Matteo would have picked it apart and eaten only the bits he liked. And how none of them would ever get to taste it, and how I couldn’t even tell them about it, couldn’t tell anyone about it because there wasn’t anyone left to tell. It was just me, alone, desperately trying to get some fake clipper to like me so he would put in a good word with my uncle, who’d turned out to be nothing like the Family I’d lost.
“Still,” Alessio said, pulling me from my thoughts. “I meant no harm.”
I cleared my throat. “The other night. And last night, too, you used some sort of smoke bombs. But I never saw you throw them. And they were different, too. They flashed.”
Alessio smiled widely. “That’s my own invention. It’s effective, isn’t it?”
“But how did you throw them without me seeing?”
He took a sip of his water. “I didn’t. They were in place beforehand. They’re timed to go off. Actually, the ones you saw firsthand were a little late.”
Timed smoke bombs. My mind raced, thinking through ways they could be of use. The possibilities were astounding. Especially if they could be rigged for something other than smoke—
Wait.
“They flashed when they first went off.”
He nodded. “The time bombs use a different chemical reaction than the regular smoke bombs. It’s actually a small fire that’s extinguished by the smoke. They’re mostly free of danger.”
A small fire extinguished by the smoke. “Could it be a bigger fire?” I asked. “Something that isn’t extinguished? A kind of firebomb?”
His eyebrows creased, and he stared at me. “I don’t know. Maybe. Why?”
“You asked me if I would train you that first night. Isn’t my uncle training you?”
“This seems an abrupt change of topic.”
I stayed quiet, waiting for him to respond. He took another sip of water, organizing his thoughts. “My master hasn’t been a clipper in close to thirty years, and I had to beg him to teach me, beg him. Finally he relented, because he thought it would keep me safe. When he discovered I’d started taking jobs last year, he stopped all my training. He doesn’t approve, thinks I’ll get hurt or worse. When I saw you that first night . . . you’re the only true clipper I’ve ever met.”
He watched people as they walked past our table. “All I’ve ever wanted to be was a clipper. And I thought, here’s someone who can teach me. Truly teach me, if she’s willing.”
“Why would you want to be a clipper?” I asked. I’d been born into this life. And, yes, in Lovero most people would claw at the chance to join a Family, for the power and wealth and status. But there was no prestige for clippers here.
His eyebrows twitched. “When I was a boy,” he started slowly, weighing his words, “my mother was robbed and murdered. And I was orphaned and living on the streets, hiding in dark corners once the sun set, raging over the man who had taken my family from me, terrified of the angry ghosts and despairing of loneliness. And then my master found me.
“He brought me to his home, a hidden palace beneath the streets of Yvain, and he fed me and clothed me and kept me safe. And as we grew closer he told me about his life before, and of Safraella, and I knew that was where I belonged. Serving a goddess who would promise me another life after this one, if I followed Her dark design. If my mother had been Her follower, I would’ve slept easier after her death, knowing she had been granted a new life.