Four of them. Fighting them would create a scene, and our only advantage lay in the fact that the Da Vias thought us dead.
“Brother.” I inclined my head respectfully. “We apologize for the intrusion into your territory. If you let us pass, we will leave and pay any restitution you deem necessary.”
We had to take this carefully. The Da Vias were the first Family now, and the other Families could easily be under their sway.
But my mother had been born a Caffarelli, so maybe that would be enough to buy us passage, if nothing more.
The clipper in front tapped his mask with the long metal claws of his left hand.
“What is it you’re doing in Lilyan? Surely there are celebrations in your own territory?”
“We came from outside the walls.”
He sighed. “Now you are lying.”
“Brother,” one hissed to the clipper in front. Their leader leaned away without taking his eyes off us. When the whispers stopped, the leader examined us anew.
“Come closer.” He gestured with his claws. “Into the light.”
Les glanced at me. Whether we were standing in the shadows made no difference if it came to a fight. I slid into the beam cast by a lantern hanging from a balcony above us.
Les followed and we stood beside each other, one hand holding the reins of our horses, the other concealing a weapon behind us.
The leader shifted his weight, some of his tension receding. “We’d heard a Saldana survived, but here stand two of you. And I do not recognize your masks.”
I slid the mask to the top of my head. “The mask is new.”
He searched my face. “Lea Saldana, then.”
He pushed the hood of his cloak off, displaying messy, short, white-blond hair. He slid his own mask up.
He had a narrow face, with a nose that had been broken too many times. But he had laugh lines around his mouth, and his eyes looked relaxed and easy. He appeared to be a few years older than Les.
“Brando Caffarelli,” I said.
He gestured at himself. “Brand, cousin. My father was . . . grieved to hear of the loss of your mother.”
Traces of my mother showed in his appearance, especially in his hair color. I didn’t know much about my mother’s brother. I hardly knew anything about the Family she’d left behind when she married my father. She’d made it clear that the moment she became pregnant with Rafeo was the moment she gave up being a Caffarelli and became a Saldana.
Beside me Les pushed his mask to his head.
“Though,” Brand continued, “now with you before me, perhaps I can bring him glad tidings?”
I shook my head. “We are all that are left.”
He looked to Les. “I don’t recognize you. You have the dark hair of some of the Saldanas but not much else. Certainly not their coloring or their stature.” Brand gestured at my diminutive height, and then flashed me a smile to show he meant no insult. I’d been short my whole life. So had my brothers and my father. I was used to the teasing remarks.
“Alessio Saldana,” Les introduced himself. A flush of pride spread across my cheeks and trailed down my throat.
Brand nodded and didn’t question any further. If Les said he was a Saldana and had the mask to prove it, the other Families would take it as truth.
Brand spoke inaudibly to the three Caffarellis behind him. They disappeared into the shadows of the streets.
“So.” He gestured for us to follow him into a quieter square, with a garden and benches. He took a seat and we tied the horses to a pergola, letting them graze at the grasses of the garden, before sitting across from him. “Are you here to deal with the Da Vias?”
I folded my hands in my lap. “Yes. They’ve turned to another god. They’re false worshippers.”
Brand hissed between his teeth. “How do you know this? That is a grave accusation.”
“Witnesses in Yvain. And I’ve seen some minor blasphemies from a few of them. I’d thought they were just being . . .”
“Cocky bastards?” Brand supplied.
“Yes. But they crossed the dead plains at night with the help of a priest of Daedara.”
Brand frowned.
“You could help us,” Les said.
I made a small noise in the back of my throat, and Les glanced at me. Help. Help killing the Da Vias. It was what I’d always needed, always wanted. It was why I had traveled to Yvain to find my uncle. I had thought the Caffarellis would refuse me, would side with the Da Vias, who had all the power now that the Saldanas were dead, but maybe I’d been wrong. Maybe they would have helped me all along, if I’d only put my pride aside and asked.
Brand leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, fingers interweaving together. “I can’t see my father agreeing to that.”
Les frowned. “Why not? The Da Vias are traitors to their masks. They lessen the status of all clippers.”
Brand waved a hand. “It’s not that I don’t believe you.” He rubbed a knuckle down the bridge of his nose. “My father is a cautious man. He will not take a stance against the Da Vias, not with their numbers and their wealth.”