“This is why I want to be a clipper. My master, he gives me glimpses of what that life can truly be, but he keeps me from fully embracing it. You could give it to me. You could teach me. We could rebuild your Family.”
Rebuild my Family. All I’d been thinking about was destroying the Da Vias. I’d assumed I’d die in the process. But if I didn’t and I killed them all and still lived, if Alessio was right, maybe the Saldanas could still be one of the nine Families.
It wouldn’t be the same, without my mother and father, my brothers, my cousin and nephew. And the Saldanas would never be the first Family again, not in my lifetime. Not even with the king’s good graces. But maybe we could reclaim our territory, return to our duties of serving Safraella. Move past the horror of that night.
No. It wasn’t possible. My Family was gone forever. Destroying the Da Vias was my only goal. Recapturing all I’d had before was a daydream, nothing more. There was no point holding on to that dream.
But without Marcello’s help, it would be impossible to take down the Da Vias alone.
I glanced at Alessio. He was unfinished, but he’d shown some skill. And he knew the secret to making those timed smoke bombs, which could maybe be modified to better fit my needs. He had offered to help me kill the Da Vias. He said it was for no ulterior motive, but I couldn’t trust him. He wasn’t Family or family. If he was going to help me, it needed to be some sort of equal exchange. No one was owing anyone in this city of flowers and debts.
“I came here for two reasons,” I said. “The first was to locate the Da Vias’ Family home, and a means to get inside. The second was to convince my uncle to help me kill them all.”
“I already told you, he won’t help.”
I held up my hand, forestalling him. “Maybe I don’t need him.”
Alessio blinked. “Well, what’s the alternative? Sit here until they find and kill you?”
“What you said earlier—”
“About me helping you?”
“I’m not a charity case. It would be an equal exchange. I could train you. . . .”
Alessio leaned forward. “If you train me, I will help you kill the Da Vias.”
I ignored my churning stomach, the part of me that said he wasn’t good enough, that it would take time to prepare him to fight so many Da Vias, time I didn’t have. That I would be training him to greet his death. He desperately wanted to be a clipper, he’d said so himself. And what was I, if not a bringer of death?
Most importantly, I needed him. I would make the Da Vias pay, no matter who fell along the way.
Time to reel him in. “Will my uncle let you just leave? And I still don’t know how to find the Da Vias. Maybe this is a bad idea.”
Alessio waved his hands. “Don’t worry about that. If you train me, I will get the information you need from him.”
“And you’ll need to teach me how to make those smoke bombs.”
“Absolutely.”
“But they need to be firebombs instead of smoke bombs.”
His smile faded as he scratched his jaw, thinking. “I don’t know . . .”
“I need them. It’s no deal without it.”
He shook his head. “It’s not that I’m unwilling, I’ve just never attempted it before. It’s going to take some trial and error on our part.”
“How long will it take?” I asked.
His eyes connected with mine, dark brown even in the morning light. “How long will it take you to train me?”
“A lifetime.”
Alessio paused, thinking this over. “You train me, and when the time comes, you take me with you to help kill the Da Vias. I get the information from my master somehow, and we work together on making those firebombs.”
“As soon as you can. The longer we stay here, the more likely we won’t ever leave.”
He nodded, lost in his own planning. I stood, and he scrambled to his feet.
“Clipper Girl . . .”
“I’ll see you on the rooftops near your home at sundown for training.”
eighteen
I SAT ON THE FLOOR OF MY HIDING PLACE, THE EVENING sun prodding its way past the boards in the windows. I’d slept through the afternoon, but I didn’t feel well rested. I never felt well rested anymore.
Three things I needed. Three things before I could return home: the location of the Da Vias from my uncle, at least one working firebomb from Alessio, and help from either. Or both. But preferably help from my uncle, who had at least been a real clipper in his youth.
Three things reminded me of the children’s stories my father used to tell me. It seemed those characters always needed three things too: three kisses, three magic cakes, three breaths from a corpse. But the heroes of those stories always succeeded, and I’d already failed my Family. And I didn’t think there’d be a happily ever after at the end of my tale.
When dusk arrived, I changed and climbed to my roof.
Alessio waited for me, dressed in his full leathers. I scowled behind my mask. “How did you know where to find me?”
He shrugged. “I followed you that first night to your . . . home. After you climbed out of the canal.”
“I watched my back. You couldn’t have followed me.”
“I can tell you’re not from around here,” he said. “You forgot to watch the canals.”