“There are other solutions, if you’d only stop and think.”
“I don’t have the time!” I yelled. “The Da Vias already know a Saldana survived the fire. If they haven’t spoken to the Addamos yet, they will soon, and it will be obvious I came to Rennes. The Da Vias aren’t the Addamos. They have more clippers, more money, more resources and power. If they want to find me, they will as soon as they connect all the loose threads I’ve left trailing behind. I have to get to them before they reach me, otherwise it’s all pointless. Otherwise it’s all been for nothing and the Da Vias will have won.”
“I’ll be with you, though. It won’t just be you, alone. That could change the outcome.”
I shook my head. “I came here looking for Marcello not just because he knew how the find the Da Vias but because he was a Saldana clipper with skills that should at least match my own. And I needed him to help me. Even with my training, Les, you’re a half clipper at best.”
Behind us, the sun crept above the roof of the buildings, casting beams of light in the shadows. We’d stayed out too late. We needed to get to our homes.
“No one’s going to be ready for this, Lea. Not even you. And damn you for writing me off like that!”
I stepped back at the anger in his voice.
He followed me, leaning over to look in my eyes. “You don’t get to roll over people. Just because you have permission to end lives doesn’t give you the right to destroy them first.”
He was breathing heavily, staring at me. Was he right? I thought over the path I’d traveled to get here.
The Addamos . . . I’d definitely done some damage there. But they’d brought it on themselves. They were the ones who’d attacked me.
Brother Faraday had said priests weren’t allowed to take sides, but he’d bent the truth for me.
Les was wrong. “You don’t make any sense. I’m making you a better clipper. How is that a bad thing?”
He closed his eyes. “Do you really not see it, kalla Lea? Are you truly that blind?”
I’d been blind to things before, and I’d made terrible mistakes. “Maybe I am blind,” I whispered, “but you don’t understand.”
“I don’t understand? Lea, I think I probably understand better than most.”
“No, you can’t. It’s my fault.”
“What’s your fault?”
“My Family. Their deaths.” I coughed and took a breath. “Val took my key from me. He must have made a copy or something. And because he was a secret, my secret, I didn’t tell anyone. The Da Vias got inside because of me.”
There. My darkest, heaviest secret bared for his judgment. Now he’d see me for the failure I was.
Les rubbed his neck. “It’s not your fault.”
His words hit me like a gust of cold air.
“You didn’t kill your family, Lea, the Da Vias did,” he continued. “Lay the blame where it belongs, not at your feet, but at theirs.”
I exhaled slowly. He made it sound so easy. But it was my fault. I’d had a hand in the deaths of my Family. When I closed my eyes, all I could see were their faces, and then I couldn’t help but imagine their last moments. Had they burned to death, their skin crackling, their lungs filling with black smoke? Or had the Da Vias killed them first, their knives and swords carving into their flesh? Had Emile been scared? Had he cried, fat tears rolling down his face as he called for his papa?
And how could Les just push my failings aside like that? Like it didn’t even matter to him.
To our left someone applauded slowly. I yanked my mask down as we turned.
“Bravo. This has been better than a stage play.” It was Captain Lefevre and six other men. “And look, you even have costumes.” He gestured to our leathers and my bone mask. I cursed my damn foolishness. We should’ve been long gone before the sun had ever risen so high.
I’d played right into his hands, standing in a secluded alley, with no witnesses to whatever he planned.
twenty-five
“LEA, LEA, LEA.” LEFEVRE STEPPED INTO THE ALLEY with his men behind him. None of them wore uniforms. This was about something else, then, and not the murder investigation.
One of the men was a giant, nearly filling the small alley space. Beside me, Les moved closer.
“I knew there was something off about you,” Lefevre said. “But I didn’t expect all this.” He waved a limp hand in our direction.
I dropped my hand to my sword.
Gone.
I closed my eyes. I’d left it on the roof when we were knife throwing.
Les tensed beside me. He realized the same thing. All I had was a single stiletto in my boot.
Sloppy. So sloppy.