“This is merely a miniature made to commemorate the monsters we fought.”
“I can’t imagine how terrifying they must’ve been.”
He cocks his head to the side. “Can’t you? You swim with serpents.”
I don’t take the bait. “I’ve never seen such detail.”
“Our blacksmith is very talented. I didn’t know you had such a vested interest in sculpture, Signorina Rossi.”
“You don’t know many things about me, Maezza.” Although decidedly not the worst words I’ve spouted today, my needling remark was unnecessary.
“You should really depart now, Marco. You wouldn’t want to leave Eponine with our mother for too long. Your poor bride will be eaten alive.” Dante winds his warm hand around my elbow. “I’ll see to Fallon’s safe return.”
“I’ve tasked Commander Dargento—” my grandfather starts but Dante speaks over him.
“I’m here, Rossi. I’ll take her.”
Justus’s lips fold together, the seam no larger than the space between the golden mosaic tiles. He stares hard at Dante, then flicks his gaze toward the commander, who stands as still as the rest of the guards in the throne room. “Very well, Altezza.” Justus’s boots squeak as he pivots. “I will see the commander to his boat and ensure yours is ready, Maezza.” Justus Rossi’s eyes snare mine.
I’m expecting a goodbye.
Or a nod.
I get nothing.
Why I still have any expectations when it comes to this man is beyond me.
Without a word, he walks into the brilliant blueness beyond the throne room’s outsized golden doors, Silvius on his heels.
Marco lifts a hand and sets it on his brother’s shoulder. “Isolacuori is yours while I’m gone.” The fabric rumples as he squeezes. “Try not to wreck it.”
“I’ll do my very best, Marco.”
A dull blade could tear through the wall of tension between the two.
Marco smiles, but it doesn’t look like a smile at all. “You seem only too pleased to take up the task.”
“If you prefer I stay in the barracks and let your guards safeguard your domain—”
“I trust you.” Marco moves his gaze to me, communicating that his trust doesn’t extend to me. “Will you be staying on Isolacuori during my absence, Signorina Rossi?”
“I have work and a family to tend to, so no.”
His smile grows, slimy as an oil spill. “Such a responsible girl.”
“May I ask you something before you depart?”
“You may.”
“If I do agree to try to tame the serpents and am somehow successful, would you consider giving me the bird-bowl?”
His irises blaze from the reflection of the grotesque chandelier. “Tame the serpents, and then we can discuss your recompense.”
Does this mean he’ll consider parting with it?
He nods to the entrance of the trophy room. “I wouldn’t want you to keep your customers at the brothel waiting, Signorina Rossi.”
My spine tenses at his innuendo.
