My thoughts are swirling. Father Francis has given me some answers, but I only have more questions.
I want to know everything about Kaiser. I tell myself this is so I can destroy him anytime I wish, but really, it’s because I want to know him.
“Ask him. I’m sure he will tell you, Bella.”
I shake my head, remembering the scars on his back, the ones he covered with tattoos. “He won’t.”
“You won’t know until you ask.” But I do.
Kaiser lied when he said he wanted communion. He doesn’t want connection; he wants control. He won’t let me touch him, even when he wants it. Instead, he makes the rules. He touches me, pretending we’re close while manipulating my every move. Intimacy that’s as fake as an arranged marriage.
“It’s not like we’re really getting married.”
“The marriage will be real.”
“If my father wants an alliance so much, he should marry Kaiser.” As soon as I say it, I want to take it back. I want Kaiser all to myself. For now.
“That won’t be enough to seal the alliance. Your father doesn’t value his life. He values yours.”
“Whatever.”
Father Francis folds his hands together, his expression turning serious. “Do you know what they call your father? The Poisoner. Several months ago, Alfredo Vesuvio ordered delivery from his favorite restaurant. By the next morning, he was dead. At first, the doctors thought he’d had a heart attack. But the head of the Vesuvio family learned later that a second autopsy showed traces of arsenic. Your father poisoned his food.”
“No, he didn’t,” I blurt, before I remember I’m supposed to be mining the priest for information, not volunteering it. “He wouldn’t do something like that.”
“Evidence suggests he did. No one else blends poisons like your father. His techniques are so far advanced, we don’t even know the extent of what he can compound. And we’re his allies.”
I want to snort. The Boscos and Fraternitas are not allies.
Wait. Father Francis said, “We.”
“Are you part of Fraternitas?”
He holds up his hand. There’s no ring. “Not officially.”
“Unofficially?” I’m betting on a priest not lying to me in his own church.
That’s against the rules, right?
He gives me that subtle smile, the one that’s starting to unsettle me. “It was my idea.”
15
I’m quiet when Kaiser drives us away from the church. He came back soon after Father Francis admitted his involvement in the brotherhood. I figured the priest couldn’t be trusted, but now I know.
It’s all information.
“I’ll see you at the engagement party,” Father Francis says.
“What engagement party?”
His eyes crinkle with a condescending smile. “Yours.”
Right. I’m a little distracted, chewing over everything I’ve learned about Kaiser and my situation.
I can’t believe what he told me about the Vesuvio guy. My father wouldn’t poison someone directly. It’s not his style. He sells poisons to people. If he had poisoned someone, no one would ever find out. So, I know he didn’t do it.
The real thing that bothers me is that I have no idea why my own father reduced me to a bargaining chip. I know why Fraternitas wanted me—I’m leverage to get my father to do their bidding—but I don’t understand why my father would so willingly hand me over. Isn’t he even going to try to fight?
