Cec coughs, likely choking on a laugh. Ansaldo smiles tightly, allowing a tense laugh of his own. The rest of the room remains silent.
“Just like Lucia. I would’ve expected nothing less from a child raised by that brute of a woman.”
A bout of anger swings through me. I nearly tell him to keep my nonna’s name out of his goddamn mouth, but it won’t helpthe situation. It does, however, affirm that this man knows Nonna well enough to use her first name.
“You flatter me.” I bow my head dramatically, curious if he recognizes the mocking tone in my voice. “But that doesn’t answer my questions or my demands.”
“All in due time, child,” he chides, letting slip an edge of impatience. My free hand turns into a fist at my side, but I don’t argue. “First, an introduction: we are the Order of Cavendi, sworn to serve the natural order of the world and protect its most sacred resource—knowledge.”
Ah, sothat’swhere the “—endi” in Anders’s Morse code came from.
Ansaldo raises his voice, lifting his hands as if inciting a prayer. “Scientia potentiaest.”
The room returns the favor. “Scientia potentia est.”
My eyes widen and my lips press into a thin line.Well, I’m uncomfortable—it turns out that I’ve walked willingly into a cult.
“I thought your motto was ‘it is darkest before dawn’, not ‘knowledge is power’?”
My query garners a few scattered laughs.
“Scientia potentia estis our order’s motto,” Ansaldo explains. “Det är som mörkast innan gryningenis how we find each other out in the world.”
I shrug, feigning nonchalance. “Whatever you say.”
Any smile Ansaldo had left slips from his face; apparently, he doesn’t care for sarcasm.He and Cec must get along swimmingly.
“Bes, our guest is tired. Please show her to one of the available rooms so she can take some time to rest.”
My shoulders slump.Shit.Why couldn’t I have kept my goddamn mouth shut for once?
“But—”
Bes grabs my arm with gentle insistence. “This way, Miss Hawkins.”
Grudgingly, I allow him to lead me off to the right, between a row of tables and their gawking occupants. I throw one last look at Cec, but he’s still purposefully avoiding me.
We pass one table of particularly burly men and women dressed in all manner of clothing from around the world. Their narrowed eyes track me in suspicion and distrust. I wonder if the entire room is this intimidating—or this fit. Before I can take stock of the others, Bes pulls me through another threshold, where we find ourselves in a different and narrower passage than the one we came in through.
Now we’re alone, Bes loosens his grip on my arm, though he doesn’t take it away. My skin tingles where he touches me.
“What was all that about?”
Bes tucks a dark, errant lock behind his ear with his free hand. “Ansaldo can be… fickle.”
“If by fickle you mean short-tempered and pious, then I agree.” We move along the brightly lit corridor. “But that’s not the only thing I’m talking about.”
Bes shoots me a confused look.
“I still can’t believe you kept all this from me.” I gesture back toward the hall. “And Cec? What the hell was he doing up there next to Arturo—Ansaldo—whatever his name is? I know he’s his uncle, but—”
“Heismy uncle, but not Cec’s.” He scratches at his jaw. “Cec was seated next to Ansaldo because he’s his son.”
Idon’t realize I’ve stopped walking until Bes’s hand slips from my arm and he pivots to regard me. He reaches for my hand, but I pull away. Hurt flashes across his face for an instant before it disappears.Good, now he knows how I feel.
“He wanted to tell you—he wanted to tell youeverything,” he claims, having the decency to appear marginally ashamed. “But he couldn’t.Wecouldn’t.”
Recalling the conversation I overheard when I was asleep in the cabin of the yacht, I ask, “But why lie to me about something like that? How was keeping that a secret protecting me?”
