Page 91 of Secrets of the Six

"Off with you," she waves me out, letting go of the Tranquillus. "Next time I see you, you better stay for lunch."

I smile, lifting her hand and planting a kiss on her knuckles. "You have my word." I turn on my heel and walk out the door, leaving Pillar to entertain her new customers. With the solution to my dog problem in hand, I breathe a sigh of relief knowing when I meet with the others tonight, I will come bearing a solid plan, even though we don't have a lot of time to prepare.

Chapter 32

Ines

Ordo Vulpe has a meeting tonight and for the first time since I was a child, I am toying with the idea of running away and leaving Orlencia – and everyone in it – behind.

With Don Severo's leering eye fixed on me and memories of the last time I saw Remus tormenting me in my sleep, I'm not sure which man poses me the greater threat. Severo could discover my treason and falsehood and kill me slowly. But Remus could burrow into my very bones and once I've succumbed, he could very well toss me to the side reminding me of my place in society.

I groan. How am I going to tell Remus about his father's blood-stained wings nailed to Severo's office wall? I've contemplated pretending I have no knowledge of them when we break into the Murrieta estate, act just as surprised as him when he lays eyes on them. But then I picture his face and remember how I felt when I looked upon them and I know I can't allow him to walk into that room unaware or without warning. It was jarring for me, and I didn't even know the Venturan personally. As much as I want to deny my feelings for Remus, I can't. I care about him enough to not want him to be blindsided by that horror.

I rub the heels of my palms against my eyes and sigh heavily. I knew when I agreed to be the pawn in this rebellious game there would be complications, even danger. I didn't realize until a couple days ago sitting in Severo's office how frightened I should be. I've been beaten many times in my life, sometimes to the point where I begged for death to take me, so I didn't have to wake up the next morning to the broken bones and angry bruises. But I survived. Each day hardened me, toughened me to the point I swore off men and promised myself no matter how dirty my hands become, I'd make it out of this miserable life.

Now I'm sitting in Otero's garden wondering if I've made an error in judgment because the promised reward was too tempting for me to see reason.

Severo Murrieta isn't known as the Hound of Orlencia for nothing. He's been the Master of Justice since the Soberano slithered his way onto a throne that was not his to claim and he's an expert in discovering the truth. He doesn't lose sleep over giving the go ahead on torturing someone for information – hell, I've heard he sometimes likes to bloody his own hands when he's in the mood. I want to believe he's let the matter of the warden claiming a green-eyed woman actually assassinated Señor Montenegro go, but by the way he looked at me and the way he slowly kissed my cheeks has me doubting. He either senses my dishonesty, or he craves me to warm his bed instead of his son's. Essentially, I signed my death warrant the second I stepped inside his house.

I have no one to blame for his unwanted attention but myself. My thirst for revenge fueled me to assassinate Montenegro which not only put myself at risk, but I’ve selfishly jeopardized everyone around me.

A couple months ago, I would have easily walked away from this foolhardy rebellion, choosing to keep my head and desert all others. But when I consider leaving now, telling Otero I quit and to put me on a ship in any direction, I can't. I can't do it. I keep telling myself it's for the riches promised, for the house in the Golden District that is within my grasp, but that's a lie. I stay for them. For the Vulpes, for the Venturans who survived a genocide, and for the Venturans who didn't. And though I would never confess this out loud, I stay because of Remus. Because I care for him. Because somehow, though I don't necessarily believe we'll both make it out alive, I wish there could be a future for us.

I scoff and recline on the stone bench and stare up at the crescent moon. I'm a fool. I should have run when I had the chance.

A twig to my right snaps propelling me to whip my gun from its holster, cock it, and aim in the direction of the sound in one fluid motion. I'm expecting Remus to come escort me to the meeting, especially since the location changes each time and I have no idea where it will be held tonight, but he is light on his feet. Quite frankly, he's the only person who can sneak up on me so either he is being extremely careless or it's not Remus who approaches in the dark.

"I know you're there," I say with a snarl. "If you care to keep your body intact, I suggest you step into the clearing."

The crunch of boots grows louder, and a figure appears. Whoever it is doesn't move like an assassin and certainly doesn't walk with a healthy dose of fear staring down the barrel of my pistol, but once I hear their voice, I lower my weapon.

"Your reflexes are as quick as ever, Mariposa."

I roll my eyes, still unsure if I care for the childhood nickname to be used. "Be glad I'm not trigger happy, Carmen. Otherwise, you'd have a hole in your chest."

She laughs and it warms my bitter soul. "If you blasted a hole in my chest, who would escort you to the meeting tonight?"

I quirk a brow and stand as she closes the distance between us. "Where's Remus?"

She motions me to follow her, and I oblige. "He was running late. I volunteered to fetch you."

Or he doesn’t wish to be alone with me knowing what I truly am.

She extends an apple to me as we traipse through Otero's garden and find our way to the main street.

"What's this?" I grab it, skepticism stretched across my face.

"It was your favorite treat when we were kids," she shrugs. "I wasn't sure if you still liked them or not."

My eyes flick up to meet her sheepish gaze and I realize this is some kind of weird peace offering. If she believes I'm still upset with her, she's wrong. She endured hell in the Casa de Placer. I can't blame her for not coming back to look for me once she'd been rescued.

I smile and bob my head before biting into the juicy fruit. "It's still my favorite, Caro."

The use of her childhood nickname seems to spark her to life. "I haven't been called Caro since…" she trails off and I bump her with my hip.

"I'm not angry, you know." When she eyes me curiously, tucking loose strands of her chocolate brown hair behind her ear, I add, "I don't blame you for not looking for me once you escaped the Brogratto. If I had endured a fraction of what you did, I don't think I could have – "

She grabs my forearm and twists me to face her. "I did look for you." She frowns, and the moonlight highlights the small scar on her cheek. A mark she received during our time in the orphanage – punishment for sneaking me extra food when I was sick. "I spent weeks scouring the Brogratto streets hoping to find you. But you'd abandoned our alley and when I inquired of you, no one knew who I was talking about. I only gave up my search because I was told by one of the bakers we used to steal from you had died. She swore she saw your body." She exhales, a noticeable tremble in her bottom lip catches my eye. "Had I known she was wrong, I never would have stopped searching for you, Ines. I hope you believe me."