Finally Butters halted and I twisted in my saddle, looking for Les. He and his mare stood quietly, watching the city gates.
The ghosts tried to enter, but just as at the monastery, an invisible barrier protected the city. All of Lovero behind the old, crumbled walls was holy ground to them. As long as the king and his subjects continued to worship Safraella, She continued to protect them from the angry ghosts.
A few of the common shrieked and ran away from the ghosts as they pressed against the barrier.
“How did they get across the river?” A man peered at the ghosts from a safe distance.
“They knocked down a tree.” I slid off Butters. “They used it as a straight bridge.”
The man faced me. He wore a garish mask, covered in feathers and gems. I glanced at the others and they, too, wore masks and beads and bright-colored clothing. The scent of alcohol wafted off them.
“Good clipper.” The man bowed courteously to me. “You grace us with your presence.”
“In the morning,” I said, “you will need to speak to your city officials and have someone remove the tree before more ghosts discover how to cross.” The ghosts couldn’t enter the cities, but they could certainly snare anyone too drunk to notice where the walls ended.
I led Butters out of the crowd. Les followed. We’d already attracted enough attention. Any chance of sneaking into Lovero had been destroyed.
My home. I took a deep breath. I’d returned. I was so close now, so close to avenging my Family.
My chest tightened in the familiar ache I’d grown accustomed to since my Family’s death. Since my terrible mistakes.
Tears welled in my eyes. We weren’t even in Ravenna and yet everything reminded me of them. A food vendor selling Jesep’s favorite pastries dusted with sugar. A puppet troupe that would have made Emile squeal with laughter. The smell of the oil, the same kind we’d used to light our house. I could feel my Family in the laughter and joy of the common. I could feel them in the very air.
Les walked beside me, the horses trailing. He glanced at the people we passed. Everyone bowed to us. “The people aren’t afraid of you.”
I cleared my throat. “Oh, they’re afraid. But their respect is greater. Many of them dream of becoming favorable in the eyes of a Family, which would give them access to wealth and power and connections, not to mention an advantageous rebirth. Most of them will overlook their fear to take that chance.”
“And the masks?” He stared at a particularly loud mask on a woman who laughed uproariously at the man whose arm she clutched.
“Susten Day,” I said.
Susten Day was a holiday celebrating Safraella. It used to be my favorite holiday. The parties and food and dancing would last all night. And because everyone wore masks, I could be anyone I wanted. Now I knew that was the dream of a child. Safraella had offered me a chance to be someone else. I’d chosen to be me.
We broke out of the cramped street and reached an intersection, with a fountain and food vendors and entertainers. Fire breathers walked on stilts, their skin painted with gold and silver. Musicians played, their notes clashing with the songs people roared drunkenly off-key. The smells of the food vendors competed with the body odors of so many people. I wrinkled my nose. Had it always been like this? So boisterous and loud? It felt different, somehow. I’d always loved the noise and excitement, especially on Susten Day. Now it filled my senses, threatened to overwhelm me. It made me want to be somewhere else.
A group of children ran past, screaming and laughing behind their masks. A girl tripped and fell to the street before Les. He helped her up.
“Thank you,” she said, then spied his mask. She backed away. When she reached a wall, she bowed hastily, then scampered after her friends.
He watched her go. “I’ve never had children frightened of me before.”
“That’s only because the children of Yvain were in their beds when you were about your dark work. I promise you they would have run from you there had they seen you.”
We made our way through the square, people parting around our horses, many shouting glad welcomes when they saw our masks. We broke through to the other side and found a quieter, less crowded street.
I sighed. “We’re attracting too much attention. We need to find a stable to board the horses and get out of Lilyan before the Caffarellis find us.”
A man in black leathers stepped out of an alley, clawed guards over his knuckles, the left side of his bone mask adorned with purple flames.
“Oh, Sister,” he said. “We already have.”
thirty-eight
PURPLE FLAMES. CAFFARELLI COLORS. THE MASK TICKLED my memory. I knew who this was, if I could only remember.
Three more clippers stepped from the shadows, each bone mask decorated with purple patterns that appeared almost black in the darkness.