“Notnever,” he clarifies. “But not to the extent Cec has.”
I have absolutely no room to be envious, considering I haven’t exactly been a saint either. But Iamcurious who Bes has consorted with before. If she was as smart or as good-looking as he is. If it was a one-time affair, or if one of them wanted more…
The door shuts, cutting off my thoughts as Ansaldo returns to his desk.
“I’m all ears, Miss Hawkins.”
“Alright then,” I start, “what can you tell me about my family’s involvement in the Order of Cavendi? And why it has anything to do with my being here?”
He sits back in his chair and squares his shoulders. “As I alluded to earlier, Lucia’s side of the family played a key role in the inception of the Order of Cavendi thousands of years ago. In fact, many of our documents mark an ancestor of yours as a founding member. The Fiore’s have served the order well since then.” He clears his throat. “Until your mother, that is.”
I stifle a gasp.My mother, part of the order?I suppose it makes sense, given my nonna was involved. But that would mean nonna fraternized—something I don’t want to think about now or ever—with someone either outside or inside these walls.
The Fiore’s, founding members of the Order of Cavendi.I’m having trouble wrapping my head around it.
How long has my nonna been hiding all this from me? Did she think I’d never have to be involved with these people, so why say anything?
I can’t believe Nonna sent me here with all this in place, all the while keeping me in the dark. If everything had gone to plan, I never would’ve known about any of this. She would’ve kept lying to me.
“She was a highly-trained Valtivar,” Ansaldo continues as my mind continues to reel. “One of the best, in fact. And your nonna was a Themis, serving on the council her entire tenure.”
A Themis? No wonder she’s always been so knowledgeable and authoritative. It’s a miracle she was able to hold her tongue over the years so I wouldn’t question her wealth of knowledge.The same way she kept everything else from me, I suppose.
He unclenches his hands before his next words, splaying them out on the polished mahogany and allowing me to catch a glimmer of the gold signet ring on his right index finger. Whatisthat symbol…?
Then, I recognize it. I scoff aloud. How could I have been so blind? I placed Nonna’s signet ring that Cec gave me as assurance on the bedside table the moment I got here, but I don’t need it to know that the one Ansaldo wears and the one my nonna spoke about so often are nearly identical, except for the fleur-de-lis on the side of mine.
Another lie.
“Do you find something I said humorous?” Ansaldo asks.
“Not at all,” I say past the frog in my throat. “Continue.”
“When she was on assignment in Boston, she met your father, an American—”
“Wait,” I interrupt him. I grip the wooden armrests and sit up, forced to shuck off the uncaring façade. “Are you saying my mother wasn’t American?”
He watches me closely. “Your mother was born and raised in Italy.”
I sit back again, reeling from this new bit of information. Nonna swore up and down that my mother was born in the States.More lies. My mother’s birthplace isn’t protected by any blood oath. She didn’t trust me with the truth.
She didn’t trust me with anything.
While I don’t doubt the lies Nonna told were her ill-fated attempt at protecting me, probably from the very same order I willingly walked into, that doesn’t make them any less heinous. If she’d been more open with me, I could’ve been much more prepared for all that I’m enduring now. Perhaps avoided it altogether.
How many other lies has she told me about my mother—my father too?
Ansaldo continues, having no inkling of my inner turmoil. “Your mother and father entered into a courtship without the order’s knowledge, keeping it a secret for nearly a year. Your mother, more than anyone, knew that entering into arelationship with a non-order member is and always has been against the rules.”
He glances at Bes and back to me. The unspoken words settle between us:and it always will be. I almost laugh. Even if Bes did feel that way for me, he loves his precious rules too much to bend them, much less break them. Our lack of fraternizing inside and outside these walls, despite ample opportunity, speaks for itself.
“Not only did she lie to the order—”
“Seems to be a family trait,” I mutter.
“—but she was somehow able to keep mention of your father out of all formal findings she relayed back to us.”
Pride swells inside me. It would’ve been easy enough to omit something from a telegram or a letter. My guess is he means the telepathic sharing of information Bes told me about last night—an ability that has yet to be proven to me. Blood oaths are one thing; telepathy is impossible. Bes will have to speak directly into my brain to convince me otherwise.
