Ansaldo seems to consider this. “If so, then we are a necessary one. Think about it however you like. As Machiavelli said, ‘let a prince have the credit of conquering and holding his state, the means will always be considered honest, and he will be praised by everybody because the vulgar are always taken by what a thing seems to be and by what comes of it.’”
I gnaw on the inside of my cheek. I want to say that I’ve learned Machiavelli was likely a satirist, that he didn’t actually believe in the one-man rule, and that every man hungry for power since then has used ‘The Prince’ to give reason to the ends justifying the means. No matter how terrible those means might be. In the end, it all comes down to power and what someone is willing to do to keep it.
Ansaldo may not be a fascist, but he sure as hell sounds like one.
I manage to speak past the dryness in my throat. “So, I suppose it’s still join the order or die in this place, is it?”
Ansaldo eyes me with condescension. “I will not make you choose today, Miss Hawkins. However, multiple members came up to me after your… entrance yesterday to express their concerns. And they were right: you know our secrets now, and I can’t allow you to leave this place until you take the blood oath and pledge yourself to the Order of Cavendi.”
He continues before I can argue. “And with your mother no longer around to fulfill her oath, the gods will allow one of her own blood to carry it out. I’m certain of it.”
I force myself to my feet in defiance, steadying my trembling knees. “And what if I don’t want to? What if Ichoosenot to?”
He slams his hand on his desk. “But think of all the good you could do!”
I back away from his unexpected excitement and the back of my calves hit the chair.
“You could do what you love: head to far-off places, recover priceless artifacts, all while keeping them out of the hands of the people who want to use them for their own dark purpose.”
Because that’s so different fromyourpurpose, whatever that might be.
“I don’t love doing it,” I argue. “It’s what I’m good at.”
“You’re more than good,” he commends me.
I cross my arms over my chest.Trying to butter me up now, I see.
“It’s in your blood, and it shows. You opened the Osireion at the Temple of Seti the First when no one else could, and managed to escape with the amulet even when the temple tried to trap you inside. With one of the God Men chasing you, no less.”
I choose not to mention the bit that I never would’ve known how to open the Osireion in the first place without the riddle inside the assistant’s journal. A journal I’m now certain Nonna placed there knowing what was inside. My heart aches once more at her betrayal.
I sniff. “As you may recall, I was supposed to be monetarily compensated for that job, a penny of which I have yet to see.”
Ansaldo’s eye twitches. “Isn’t the pride of solving the riddle of the Osireion and keeping the Amulet of Amun out of the hands of the German Third Reich payment enough for your soul?”
I shake my head. “Unfortunately, my soul needs a little more than good favor. Preferably in the form of gold, but I’ll accept precious gems.”
He waves his hand petulantly. “Take it up with the museum.”
I watch him carefully, his impatience emboldening me.I’m getting under his skin again.
“Ah yes, the museum full of people who betrayed us. I’ll get right on that. Should I put this place down as my forwarding address?”
Ansaldo grips his jaw. “I grow tired of this; youwillbe a part of the Order of Cavendi. There’s nothing more to it than that.”
I bite my tongue at the finality of his words. I know when an argument is lost, but I’ll never stop fighting, nor will I allow the idea of being trapped in this place destroy me.
Despite Nonna’s general dislike for the Irish because of my father, she did enjoy quoting Oliver Goldsmith to me: “He who fights and runs away, May live to fight another day; But he who is battle slain, Can never rise to fight again.”
The Order of Cavendi won’t be the end of me—not if I have anything to say about it.
I meet Ansaldo’s gaze straight-on. “I’ll consider joining your twisted boy scouts club.” I lean on his desk too now, putting us on even ground. “But you’ve made an enemy of the Fiore’s, and we never forgive, and we never forget.”
With that, I turn on my heels and throw open the door of his office, not waiting to see if Bes and Cec follow as my pulse pounds loudly in my ears.
Hurried steps echo behind me.
“Did you know?” I ask, breathless as Bes and Cec settle on either side of me. “Did you know about my mother, that my nonna was part of the order?”
