Aunt Cass Quotes

brother moved to stand next to Aunt Cass. He was smiling and giving Hiro a thumbs-up. Hiro smiled back and took a breath. “Sorry. My name is Hiro Hamada, and I’ve been working on something I think is pretty cool. I hope you like it.” Hiro put on a headset and reached into his hoodie. He took out a small object no bigger than a paper clip. “This is a microbot.” The small object in his palm took a bow. “It doesn’t look like much,” Hiro continued, “but when it links up with the rest of its pals, things get a little more

Stefan!" shouted Casimir. "What are you doing, out in the rain with that girl? Madman!" As Stefan raised his head, Rozalia heard her aunt's bubbling laughter. "Not a madman, Cass - a lover!" "Same thing," said Casimir; but he put an arm around Anastasia where she stood holding the baby, and kissed her.

Callaghan said, and handed Hiro an envelope with the SFIT crest on it. “I look forward to seeing you in class.” Hiro beamed. He did it. He had won admittance to SFIT! Hiro and the gang burst from the showcase hall. Aunt Cass pulled them into a group hug. “All right, geniuses, let’s feed those hungry brains,” she said. “Back to the café! Dinner is on me!” Fred was the most excited. “Yes!” he shouted. “Nothing is better than free food!” Tadashi smiled. It had been a perfect day. “Aunt Cass? We’ll catch up, okay?” “Sure.

She wanted to hear everything. What did Cass think of the great marble Duomo? Had she gone for Mass? Had she visited the Uffizi, one of the oldest art galleries in the world? What about the Boboli Gardens? Were they as lovely as everyone said? Cass didn’t have the heart to tell her aunt that between being attacked by dogs and having her blood drained in her sleep, she hadn’t had much time for sightseeing.

I wish I was up for the journey,” Agnese had declared as she told Cass what to say. “It’s a grim business for a girl your age.” Murderers. Grave robbers. Cass was more familiar with grim business than her aunt ever would have guessed.

Cass.” Luca squeezed her fingers, and her insides went a little weak. “You owe no debt to me. Have your aunt arrange another match, perhaps with someone of your own choosing. Go be happy. It’s what I want for you.

The place where we’ll be staying is just off the piazza. I knew the square was always full of people, but I hope we won’t have to suffer their constant noise.” “Here?” Mada squealed, wrinkling her nose. “This isn’t how I remember Palazzo Alioni at all. This whole neighborhood looks so run-down. So old.” Marco nodded grimly as the driver slowed the horses to a stop. “Your father sent word to warn me that your aunt’s living conditions had deteriorated, but I had hoped for better than this.” They had pulled over in front of a three-story palazzo made of red stucco and trimmed with marble. The chipped roof tiles and peeling paint made Cass think of Agnese’s villa. “It’s not so bad,” she said, with forced cheerfulness. “It looks lived-in.” The carriage driver opened the wooden double doors that led into the palazzo’s courtyard. Mada’s face fell even further. Up close, the house looked even older than Agnese’s villa, and the only thing growing in the garden was weeds. A rusty bucket sat on the edge of a well. Mada turned to Cass incredulously. “It looks like no one’s lived here for a hundred years,” she insisted.

Cass couldn’t move. She stood there, transfixed, speechless, letting her eyes wander over his whole body. The moonlight outlined his broad shoulders and the dark brown hair that had grown even longer since she’d last seen him, the ends of it brushing against his cheekbones and dangling below his square jaw. He broke away from his friends with a wave and began to cross the piazza toward her, the collar of his shirt flopping open to expose a triangle of muscular chest. Warmth bloomed in Cass’s cheeks. Her hands had been all over those muscles just a few weeks earlier. Falco’s jaw dropped slightly as he approached, his lips curving into the lopsided smile she had missed so much. “Starling,” he said. “I cannot believe it. Are you the product of too much wine or too many wishes?” He reached out, taking one of her hands in his own. “You feel real enough.” “Hello, Falco,” she managed to say. She felt as if she might explode. Only now did she let herself realize how she had missed every tiny detail of him. More than anything, she wanted to pull him into her arms, to press her lips to the tiny scar beneath his right eye, to bury her face in the warmth of his hair. Falco lifted her hand to his mouth, brushing his lips gently across her soft skin. It was an innocent gesture, but Cass could sense the urgency beneath it. He felt exactly the same way she did. She knew it. Pulling her close and cradling her face in his hands, he said, “I have visited Florence’s breathtaking cathedrals and reviewed the works of the masters, but you are the most beautiful thing I’ve seen since I left Venice.” Heat coursed from his fingers into her skin and the blood and bones beneath it. Falco’s hands smelled faintly of paint. Cass smiled. She couldn’t help herself. For a second the two of them were back on San Domenico, kissing on a bench in her aunt’s garden. For a second, desire budded and bloomed inside of her, as scarlet and fragrant as Agnese’s roses. Intoxicating.

Now then,” Falco started as he tucked the canvases back beneath the long table. “Have I proven myself, Signorina Cassandra? May I paint you?” Cass looked down at her long legs protruding from the ruffled skirt. She willed back the images of Aunt Agnese and Luca that threatened to overwhelm her. “You’re not going to display it, are you?” she asked. “I thought I’d hang it by the entrance to the Grand Canal. Call it Signorina Cassandra Caravello in Her Undergarments. What do you think?” “Very funny.” “I thought so.

Now then,” Falco started as he tucked the canvases back beneath the long table. “Have I proven myself, Signorina Cassandra? May I paint you?” Cass looked down at her long legs protruding from the ruffled skirt. She willed back the images of Aunt Agnese and Luca that threatened to overwhelm her. “You’re not going to display it, are you?” she asked. “I thought I’d hang it by the entrance to the Grand Canal. Call it Signorina Cassandra Caravello in Her Undergarments. What do you think?” “Very funny.” “I thought so.” Falco dragged the wooden stool and easel to the center of the room. He gestured for Cass to take her place on the divan. “Please.” He pulled a pair of lamps close, murmuring something about the insufficient lighting. “Under normal circumstances,” Falco said, “I would ask you to sit during the daytime. It’s the only way to get a clear picture. But it isn’t often I have the place to myself.” He grinned. “And you are certainly not a normal circumstance.” Cass felt herself blushing; she was sure he would have to paint her complexion a mottled red. “Make yourself comfortable,” he said. “Right now it looks as though you’re sitting on a pincushion.” Cass tried a new pose and Falco laughed. “Let me,” he said, and, reaching out, set about readjusting her. He gently eased her onto her left hip, letting the right leg fall forward in front of her. He pulled part of her hair over her shoulder so it twisted and curled around her neck. Cass sipped her drink nervously, hoping the alcohol might relax her. Each of Falco’s touches generated a tiny bolt of lightning inside her. The charge was starting to build up to dangerous levels. “Are your legs cold?” Falco asked. Cass managed to choke out a no. Her whole body was racing with heat, and she felt about two touches away from spontaneous combustion. She was seized by a fleeting impulse to run away; at the same time, she wished he would touch her forever. The costume, the posing, the mysterious alcohol that was dissolving her inhibitions. Cass felt wild and alive, even more so than she had the night they went to the brothels. That night she had been someone else, but tonight she was posing as herself, and she loved it.

Signorina Cass!” she said, her voice just above a whisper. “Your aunt returned early from Abano and has been asking for you all morning. I didn’t know what to tell her, so I said you had gone for a walk along the shore.” Siena paced back and forth next to the long countertop. “Of course she was furious at me for letting you go anywhere alone. I was afraid she was going to send me away, so I told her you insisted.” Agnese was back? This was bad. Very bad. Cass unclenched Siena’s hands, squeezing one of them gently. “It’s okay, Siena. I’ll handle my aunt.” She didn’t know exactly how she was going to accomplish this, but it felt like the right thing to say.

Mi-mi dispiace, Aunt Agnese,” Cass finally stammered, inching away from Dubois toward the corridor that led to her room. “I…I went for a walk. I guess I lost track of time.” Maybe if she stayed far enough away, Agnese wouldn’t realize the state of disarray of her dress. Had Dubois somehow recognized her at the ball? Why else would he be here, on San Domenico, in her aunt’s portego? Agnese’s mouth dropped open, causing a second chin to form in the loose, doughy skin of her throat. “You speak of time as though it were an unruly canine. What you really lost track of, Cassandra, were your manners, and meanwhile the entire house has been turned upside down looking for you.” The old woman clucked her tongue. “You need always consider how your actions might affect others.” She shook her head as if Cass were beyond hope.

After helping Cass into her dressing gown, Siena grabbed a silver-plated hairbrush from the dressing table and began to brush Cass’s hair so furiously that it made Cass’s eyes water. “Not so hard,” she grumbled. “No need to punish me. I’m sure my aunt has something terrible planned already. Perhaps I’ll have to embroider an entire bedcover, or worse, she’ll make me start taking violin lessons again.” Cass had endured two years of harp and violin lessons with a tutor from the Rialto, but eventually Agnese had realized that her niece was just not musically gifted. “Now that would be a punishment for us all, Signorina,” Siena said with a delicate smile. Cass would have been offended if the remark weren’t so true. Even the house cats used to run and hide when they saw Cass with her violin case.

What is Signor Dubois doing here?” Siena shrugged. “Personal business with your aunt, I imagine.” She lifted her chin daintily. “I am not privy to Signora Querini’s affairs.” Cass elbowed Siena in the ribs. “I am not privy to Signora Querini’s affairs,” she mimicked. “Come on, Siena. I know those ears hear everything.” Siena dropped her glance to the floor and Cass immediately felt guilty. She hadn’t meant to imply that the girl’s ears were too big, only that the servants always seemed to be hovering just out of sight. Siena put the silver hairbrush back on the dressing table and picked up a hair ornament carved from sea coral and adorned with pearls. She began to twist Cass’s hair into a tight bun. “If I heard anything, it was purely accidental,” she said, shooting Cass’s reflection a warning look. “And only as a result of the normal course of my duties.” Cass winked at Siena in the mirror, amazed at the sleek topknot the girl had created. “Fine. What did you accidentally hear while you were responsibly completing your duties?” Siena pinned the pearl ornament around Cass’s hair and pursed her lips. She liberated a couple of strands from the bun and nodded as they curled naturally around Cass’s face. “I may have heard Dubois say he saw you in unsavory company at his masquerade ball last evening.

My Dearest Cassandra, Bonjour, ma chérie. I think of you often. I hope you are not growing lonely and bored being stuck in the villa with your aunt. My colleagues drag me out for a meal occasionally, but I spend the majority of my time studying. Are you also concentrating hard on your lessons? I can only imagine how beautiful you’ve become since I saw you last, and I should hope there aren’t too many men trying to court you in my absence. I know that you see the best in people, but remember, most men are not to be trusted. Cass refolded the letter in disgust. If she had read it on the ride over, she might have tossed it straight into the lagoon. They were engaged, and yet Luca persisted in being threatened by imaginary suitors vying for her. As if she could just break her engagement and run off with some other man. No matter how much she might want to.

I’m sure your wedding will be the event of the entire season,” she said. “At least it’s not being planned by a half-blind old lady whose favorite word is frivolous.” “I don’t think you’re being fair.” Madalena pretended to chastise Cass. “I’m sure your aunt’s favorite words are proper and decorum. Frivolous is at best a distant third.

I need him to meet me tonight, at midnight, at the churchyard by my aunt’s property.” “Churchyard, eh? Sounds very…deserted.” Paolo lifted his hat and shook his black hair out of his face. “I don’t know. You kept him out late last night.” The boy gave Cass a long look. “I’m surprised you made it to Mass this morning. But perhaps you had reason to repent?

Cass thought of the moment they had shared only last night. What might have happened if the world were only her and Falco, if he could have laid her back on one of her aunt’s marble benches and kissed her until sunrise?

All finished. Don’t look, though. You and your man must be surprised together.” “Siena,” Cass cautioned quickly. “He is not my man.” “If he looked at me the way he looks at you, I would not be so quick to denounce him,” Siena teased, her eyes brightening in a way that reminded Cass quite a bit of Feliciana. She stepped back from Cass and gave a satisfied nod. “And now--for me. Shall I change into something more revealing as well?” Cass realized that Siena intended to accompany her. “I--I think it’s better if Falco and I go off on our own.” Siena’s flawless skin paled. “Unchaperoned? But that’s unacceptable. If your aunt found out, she’d run me out of the villa, if she didn’t kill me first.” So true. Cass could just hear Agnese shrieking about what Matteo would think. “She won’t find out,” Cass promised. “She’ll be gone for days. And I won’t make a very realistic prostitute with a maidservant in tow.” Cass didn’t bother to point out that of all the rules she might break that evening, departing with Falco unchaperoned was the very least of them. Siena agreed reluctantly, but her good mood had vanished. She led Cass back to the portego, to where Falco waited. A slow smile spread over the boy’s face. “Almost perfect,” he murmured. He bent down and gave the seam of Cass’s dress a yank. Cass yelped. The shiny fabric slit up the side so that a hint of her shapely calf peeped out. “Now it’s perfect.” Cass glared at him. Siena gasped, then clapped a hand over her mouth. “Please be careful,” she begged. “Your aunt would never forgive me…” Falco flashed his dazzling smile at the lady’s maid. “Nothing bad will happen to her. You have my word.

As he stood, a single red petal fell from his black velvet cloak. “I’m glad you came out of your room. I hope to see you at supper.” Luca unfastened the cloak from around his neck and handed it to her. “Here. It’s getting dark. You might get cold.” Cass accepted the cloak and draped it across her front like a blanket. A square of white cotton fell out of the pocket and she reached down and picked it up. Luca’s handkerchief. Her fingers stroked the embroidered initials--LdP. She thought back to her conversation with Madalena about dropping handkerchiefs. It seemed like the exchange had happened in another lifetime. She tucked the square of fabric back into the pocket of his cloak. Luca smiled. “Thanks,” he said. “I manage to lose more of those than you can imagine.” He turned back toward the house. The air turned cool as the stars came out, but Luca’s cloak kept Cass surprisingly warm. A blurry face appeared at one of the windows. Cass recognized Agnese’s favorite white cap. Cass gave her aunt a hesitant wave and the face vanished. Cass wondered if everyone had been worrying about her. She remembered the cautious way Luca had approached her, as if she were a wild horse that might spook and run off.

Luca reached toward Cass’s face and she flinched. But he didn’t seem to notice. He was in his own world, in the grip of emotions Cass didn’t understand. Pain and fear and regret--all of it swirled behind his eyes. His warm fingers brushed the side of her face. Cass felt hot all over. “If anything happened to you, I’d never forgive myself,” he said, tracing his hand from her cheekbone to her chin. “Luca,” she croaked out, trying to swim up through the haziness of her own confused feelings. “What--” “Just please stay in the crowd,” Luca said. He bent close to her, and for a second Cass thought he was going to kiss her. Instead, he pulled a curling tendril of hair from the corner of her mouth. “Stay with your aunt. Don’t go anywhere alone.” “But I don’t--” “Just promise me.” His urgency frightened Cass. She didn’t know what he was talking about; had he seen something at the exhibition? “I promise,” she said. “Thank you.” Luca brushed his lips across her forehead. Then he took her hand and the two of them headed back to the main street.

Cass sank down next to her aunt and the old woman turned blazing eyes on her. Agnese’s face was as deeply wrinkled as the purple silk of her dress. “Where have you been?” she demanded. Cass knew that she had been foolish to hope her aunt would be in a forgiving mood. Agnese hated crowds; she hated being jostled by strangers.

Wait here,” Cass told Siena. Then she walked up to the boys and stopped just behind Paolo. “Excuse me,” she said. All of the boys turned around. A couple of the younger ones giggled. Paolo weighted his drawing down with a worn leather canteen. Probably full of alcohol, Cass thought. The tall boy hopped to his feet. “Come to talk more about de Montaigne?” he asked with a wink. Cass looked away. From the corner of her eye she could see Siena staring at her. “I actually was hoping you might give Falco a message for me,” she said. “I need him to meet me tonight, at midnight, at the churchyard by my aunt’s property.” “Churchyard, eh? Sounds very…deserted.” Paolo lifted his hat and shook his black hair out of his face. “I don’t know. You kept him out late last night.” The boy gave Cass a long look. “I’m surprised you made it to Mass this morning. But perhaps you had reason to repent?” Cass blushed. “It isn’t like that,” she said. “I just need to talk to him.

Nestled on the divan facing directly toward Cass was Aunt Agnese. She had never looked so furious. Even the graveyard, with its possible vampires and murderers, seemed like a safer choice than going inside to face her aunt.

I got nervous around you after our arrangement became official,” Luca said. “I used to watch you sometimes, though.” “That’s kind of creepy, don’t you think?” Cass raised an eyebrow, and couldn’t help but crack a small smile. “You stopped being just a little girl.” A red flush crept across Luca’s high cheekbones. “I wasn’t very good at talking to women. I’m still not.” His shyness surprised her. Luca, the man, was proving to be so different from the boy she remembered. She thought of what Mada had said about growing to love somebody. She looked down at her hands and said haltingly, “My behavior has been inexcusable these last few days, so I won’t try to excuse it. I can only imagine what you must think of me.” Luca finally dared to sit on the bench across from Cass. “It’s all right,” he said, still twirling the rosebud in his big hands. “I guess your aunt sprang it on you, announcing our engagement so suddenly.” He smiled, but Cass could tell it was forced. Hurt still lingered in his eyes. “You know, most girls wouldn’t mind being Signora da Peraga.” “I know,” Cass said. She could think of nothing else to say. Luca said, this time with a warm smile, “But you are different from most girls, aren’t you, Cassandra?” Her hands tightened around her journal. Somehow Luca managed to see something good in her, even where there was nothing good to see. And yet, his words reminded her of Falco’s. “I’d prefer it if the idea of our engagement didn’t make you miserable,” Luca continued. “Does it?” he asked softly. “Make you miserable?” A few days ago, all Cass had wanted was to escape from her obligation to marry, and now she felt Luca loosening the band around her neck, unlocking the door to her cage. But Cass couldn’t tell him the truth. She had already hurt Falco. She wouldn’t hurt Luca and Agnese too. Being with Luca made sense. Being with Falco was madness. “I hate seeing you so sad,” Luca said after a pause. “I hate to think I may be the cause of your unhappiness.

Why so interested, Luca? Don’t you have other, more important duties to which you should attend?” She downed half a glass of wine in one swallow. Her mind flooded with terrible thoughts. Did Luca somehow know about Falco? Had he been spying on her? “I consider it both my civic and domestic duty,” Luca said, smiling tightly. “I want to make sure that my wife-to-be isn’t troubled by any…undesirable company. The women of Venice are one of our most precious resources, after all. I want to be sure they are protected.” Anger flared inside Cass. She couldn’t believe she had softened to him earlier--that she had, for a second, even thought she could be happy with him. “The women of Venice are far more capable than most men realize,” she snapped. If the room got any colder, Cass would have to ask one of the servants to bring her a cloak. Agnese cleared her throat to speak, but to Cass’s amazement Luca cut her off. It was like he’d completely forgotten her aunt was at the table with them. His voice rose and his face reddened again, but this time not from embarrassment. “I am well aware that many women believe themselves to be stronger than they are. They might believe, for example, that it is a fully rational thing to go gallivanting around the city alone at night. They believe that they are playing a game--they have no idea how high the stakes really are.” Cass had never seen Luca show this much emotion, and it was both fascinating and frightening. A chill zipped up her spine. Was he threatening her? She forced herself to maintain eye contact. “You are not my husband yet,” she said softly, but with force. “And I do not have to listen to you.” Luca’s fork fell to the table with a clatter. “Then you are a sillier girl than I thought,” he burst out. “And I would urge you to be more careful. Where have you been spending your time, Cassandra?

You are not my husband yet,” she said softly, but with force. “And I do not have to listen to you.” Luca’s fork fell to the table with a clatter. “Then you are a sillier girl than I thought,” he burst out. “And I would urge you to be more careful. Where have you been spending your time, Cassandra?” “One might ask the same question of you,” she said. Both Siena and Madalena had claimed to have seen him on the Rialto. They couldn’t both be mistaken. Her eyes narrowed. “How long have you really been in Venice, Luca? You told me you had just arrived, but you were seen in the city more than a week ago! How do you explain that?” “All I have done since arriving in Venice is attend to your safety.” Luca flung his balled-up napkin onto his untouched dessert plate. “What you don’t know can hurt you, Cass.” He pushed his chair back abruptly from the table. For a second, no one said a word. The outburst had startled even Agnese into silence. Cass was sure that the servants were taking in every word. Luca seemed suddenly to remember that there were others in the room. He passed a hand through his hair. “I apologize,” he said stiffly. “I don’t know why I got so upset.” He brushed a few crumbs from his clothing as he stood. “If you will both excuse me, I have some reading I must complete.” Cass turned to her aunt the second Luca disappeared into the portego. “What on earth do you suppose that was about?” she asked. “It appears that during his time in France, your fiancé developed a bit of a temper,” Agnese said mildly, as though Luca’s outburst were perfectly normal. She blotted her mouth with her napkin and signaled a servant to bring her a second pastry. “Let’s just hope he saves some of that passion for your wedding night.

I apologize,” he said stiffly. “I don’t know why I got so upset.” He brushed a few crumbs from his clothing as he stood. “If you will both excuse me, I have some reading I must complete.” Cass turned to her aunt the second Luca disappeared into the portego. “What on earth do you suppose that was about?” she asked. “It appears that during his time in France, your fiancé developed a bit of a temper,” Agnese said mildly, as though Luca’s outburst were perfectly normal. She blotted her mouth with her napkin and signaled a servant to bring her a second pastry. “Let’s just hope he saves some of that passion for your wedding night.” Cass folded her napkin and put it on the table. She felt nauseated. She replayed the conversation with Luca again and again. He hadn’t even denied returning to Venice early. It was true--he’d been in town for at least a week, maybe more. Why had he lied to her? She thought of how she had seen, for just one second, his face contorted with rage as he warned her to be more careful. It was a side of Luca she had never seen--almost as though for just one second, he had slipped on a mask. Or perhaps he had slipped out of a mask. Maybe, in that moment, he had let drop the image of the ever-composed, always righteous Luca. It was more than just jealousy or overprotectiveness. Luca was hiding something. Cass was certain of it.

Your problem is that you do believe in all of that nonsense. And that’s why you’re scared.” “I’m not scared,” she insisted, but even she wasn’t convinced by the thin protestation. “Yes, you are, or you wouldn’t be asking all these questions. You’re stalling.” Falco bent down and started untying the gondola’s rigging. His hands worked through the ropes easily, as if this were a trick he’d performed many times before. “Hop aboard before I let it go completely loose.” Cass swore she saw him wink at her through the gloom. “My aunt will positively murder me if she finds out I took her gondola without asking.” In the middle of the night. With a strange boy. “Oh, don’t get your laces all in a knot. We’re just going to borrow it. We can have it back before your precious auntie realizes it’s missing.” Cass stood by the dock, staring at the sleek gondola. The early morning was cool, but the blood racing through her veins kept her warm. As long as Falco was certain they could return before anyone found out… Falco knelt in the middle of the boat, one hand held out in Cass’s direction, the other poised to release the gondola from the dock with a quick tug of the rope. “I understand if you don’t want to come. So many rules to break.” Falco’s voice still had that lilting quality to it, but his eyes were serious. “It is safer in the cage, isn’t it?” It was safer. If her parents had stayed in Venice instead of plunging themselves into plague-afflicted foreign cities, they might still be alive. They had wandered outside the little circle of safety and expectations, and had paid the ultimate price. But Cass didn’t want to stay in the circle. She wanted to live. Besides, if there really was a murderer out there, and he had his eye on Cass, what was the point in sitting around waiting for him to come to her?

The following day, Cass still felt as if the villa were suffocating her. Not only was she trapped inside, but she was bored out of her mind--so bored that she sat on the stool and plucked random strings on her aunt’s harp for a while until Bortolo reminded her that he was blind and not deaf.

Tell her what you want to tell her then, Cass.” Cass gave Siena a quick summary of what she and Falco had discovered at the graveyard. The maid’s eyes got bigger and bigger as Cass relayed finding the open crypt door and the body, and then receiving the note. “But Signorina Cass, you might be in danger!” “That’s why we’re going to figure out who’s responsible,” Cass said, with more confidence than she felt. “Speaking of which…” Falco nodded at the costume bag, which Cass had completely forgotten. A silky garment, trimmed with lace and beaded elaborately, had fallen out during the scuffle. Siena looked down, and even in the flickering light, Cass could see that her pale skin went bright pink. The lady’s maid knelt to retrieve the outfit, a low-cut satin chemise. She pressed the clothing into Cass’s hands without meeting her eyes. Cass felt her own face get red. “It’s--it’s just a costume. We’re going to try to locate some of the dead girl’s patrons.” “You mean you’re going to masquerade as a…” The shy maid couldn’t choke out the rest. “Hired woman,” Cass confirmed, wondering if it would have been easier just to let Siena believe that she and Falco had met up for a tryst. She wasn’t sure which would have been more scandalizing. “I know it’s dangerous, but it’s more dangerous to do nothing while a madman plots against me. And Falco will be by my side the whole time. Please don’t tell my aunt.” Siena didn’t say anything for a minute. She looked back and forth from Cass to Falco. Finally, she nodded. And then, to Cass’s amazement, her red face lit up with a huge smile. “You’ll need me to do your hair, Signorina.” “Hair?” Cass wasn’t sure she had heard correctly. “What are you talking about?” “Your hair and your makeup.” Siena reached out to stroke Cass’s thick hair. “Otherwise, no one will believe you are anything other than a noblewoman. I’ll put the sides in braids, and twist the back into a knot.” Falco nodded approvingly at Siena. “Excellent idea. We want to make sure everyone can see that beautiful face tonight.” Cass thought her skin might turn permanently red if she continued blushing.

The women of Venice are far more capable than most men realize,” she snapped. If the room got any colder, Cass would have to ask one of the servants to bring her a cloak. Agnese cleared her throat to speak, but to Cass’s amazement Luca cut her off. It was like he’d completely forgotten her aunt was at the table with them. His voice rose and his face reddened again, but this time not from embarrassment. “I am well aware that many women believe themselves to be stronger than they are. They might believe, for example, that it is a fully rational thing to go gallivanting around the city alone at night. They believe that they are playing a game--they have no idea how high the stakes really are.” Cass had never seen Luca show this much emotion, and it was both fascinating and frightening. A chill zipped up her spine. Was he threatening her? She forced herself to maintain eye contact. “You are not my husband yet,” she said softly, but with force. “And I do not have to listen to you.” Luca’s fork fell to the table with a clatter. “Then you are a sillier girl than I thought,” he burst out. “And I would urge you to be more careful. Where have you been spending your time, Cassandra?” “One might ask the same question of you,” she said. Both Siena and Madalena had claimed to have seen him on the Rialto. They couldn’t both be mistaken. Her eyes narrowed. “How long have you really been in Venice, Luca? You told me you had just arrived, but you were seen in the city more than a week ago! How do you explain that?” “All I have done since arriving in Venice is attend to your safety.” Luca flung his balled-up napkin onto his untouched dessert plate. “What you don’t know can hurt you, Cass.” He pushed his chair back abruptly from the table. For a second, no one said a word. The outburst had startled even Agnese into silence. Cass was sure that the servants were taking in every word. Luca seemed suddenly to remember that there were others in the room. He passed a hand through his hair. “I apologize,” he said stiffly. “I don’t know why I got so upset.” He brushed a few crumbs from his clothing as he stood. “If you will both excuse me, I have some reading I must complete.

I apologize,” he said stiffly. “I don’t know why I got so upset.” He brushed a few crumbs from his clothing as he stood. “If you will both excuse me, I have some reading I must complete.” Cass turned to her aunt the second Luca disappeared into the portego. “What on earth do you suppose that was about?” she asked. “It appears that during his time in France, your fiancé developed a bit of a temper,” Agnese said mildly, as though Luca’s outburst were perfectly normal. She blotted her mouth with her napkin and signaled a servant to bring her a second pastry. “Let’s just hope he saves some of that passion for your wedding night.

There’s a dead girl in there who’s not supposed to be, and another girl murdered, and you don’t care. You don’t care about them, or me.” She turned and walked away from him, blinking back tears. “I refuse to be lied to any longer.” What an idiot she was. “Cassandra, wait.” Falco ran after her, grabbing her arm just before she reached the edge of Agnese’s garden. “I do care. Give me two days. That’s all I need. And then I will tell you everything you want to know.” He stared at her. “Please. I’m asking you to trust me.” “Why should I?” Cass asked, her voice barely above a whisper. The breeze rustled through the ivy. Cass watched one leaf whip back and forth. “Last night you told me not to trust you, and tonight you tell me I should. What’s changed?” “What’s changed is that I…” Falco reached for her face, his fingertips caressing her cheekbones. “I’m falling in love with you,” he said, brushing a strand of hair back from her eyes. “For the longest time I couldn’t see it. I didn’t want to see it. So impossible. But I can’t deny my feelings any longer. You’re more than a muse, Cass. I want you to be more. I want you to be mine.” “But you know--” Cass could barely stutter out a sentence; Falco’s words were so unexpected, she could hardly breathe. “But I’m engaged…” “Forget the engagement. Forget what you’re supposed to do. What do you want to do, Cass? What do you need?” Cass felt her resolve melting away. His fingertips were ten individual spots of heat on her cool skin. She was tired of being cold. All she had to do was lean in and let the warmth engulf her. She thought of their bodies pressed together in the old batèla, her hands caressing his bare skin as their mouths met over and over. She realized she was crying. Falco kissed away her tears one at a time. Each time his lips touched her skin, she felt a brightness, like he was making flowers bloom inside of her. “I want to believe you, but it’s not that simple. I--” “It is that simple.” Falco tilted her face upward and pressed his mouth to hers, gently, then harder. Cass didn’t even try to resist. The wind whipped his hair around, and hers, tickling her skin as Falco pressed her against the framework of the trellis that lined the back of her aunt’s garden. Falco leaned into her and Cass could feel their hearts beating against each other. This was what a kiss should feel like. This was real.

Honestly, Cassandra, I know you get this--this recklessness--from your parents, but I don’t know how much longer I can handle it.” Cass wished she could melt into the floor. She almost preferred her aunt’s cutting sarcasm to this quiet, disappointed tone. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again,” she said. “I promise.” Agnese shook her head and the loose folds of skin under her chin wobbled back and forth. “Your promises have proven to be as reliable as Bortolo’s aim with the teapot.

That is all. I’m tired. I’m going back to bed. I suggest you all do the same.” Agnese swiveled her head toward the kitchen. “Siena,” she barked. Siena scampered into the portego. Without even glancing at Cass, she knelt down and let Agnese grab hold of her arm. Once the old woman was on her feet, Siena walked her toward her room, a half step at a time. Cass thought she heard her aunt muttering something about what Matteo would think under her breath.

Peeking through the thick glass, Cass saw Falco’s distorted form just outside the servants’ door. “Cassssssaaaandra.” He stretched her name out playfully as he knocked on the door. At this rate he was going to wake up the whole villa. Cass slipped outside, shutting the door behind her with a firm click. “You need to be quiet,” she said, shielding her candle from the night breeze. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Cass tried to slow her breathing. There’s no reason to be nervous. And yet, for some reason, she couldn’t catch her breath. “My aunt is gone,” she blurted out, blushing when she realized how it sounded. Falco’s eyes widened in fake shock. “Well, then perhaps I should ask for a tour of the house.” He grinned, clearly relishing Cass’s embarrassment. “Can we start with your bedroom?

Have you met him, then? Don Ernesto of Rome? Rumor has it he can be quite a handful.” “As well as a mouthful, no doubt.” The fat woman threw her head back and cackled. “Bit of an odd one, though. He likes his women cold.” “I could be cold,” Hortensa said. She looked around the group, as if daring anyone to challenge this assertion. “So your husband tells us.” Donna Domacetti cackled again. “But I don’t mean cold as in cruel, Hortensa. I mean physically cold. Apparently he makes his favorite courtesan bathe in ice water before he lies with her.” “How unusual,” the dark-haired woman murmured. Cass had already forgotten her name. Isabella? No, Isabetta. “Does he not have to worry about the cold affecting his…size?” Isabetta asked. Cass almost choked on her tea. Her face turned bright red. This wasn’t what she imagined socializing with Donna Domacetti’s circle would be like. What if Agnese had come with her? Surely they wouldn’t have spoken so crassly in front of her aunt. Donna Domacetti chuckled. “Careful, ladies. An innocent sits among us.” Cass forced her lips into a small, closed-mouth smile. She wondered what these women would think of her if they knew of her trysts with Falco. Cass thought of the moment they had shared only last night. What might have happened if the world were only her and Falco, if he could have laid her back on one of her aunt’s marble benches and kissed her until sunrise? “It’s hard to imagine the niece of Agnese Querini being too innocent,” Isabetta said. She sipped her tea and then set the pale pink cup back on its saucer, a smear of blood-red lip stain marring the golden rim. Cass raised an eyebrow at the dark-haired woman. “What does that mean?” Donna Domacetti rubbed her chins with the back of her hand. “Nothing, my dear. Simply that your aunt is very wise in the ways of the world.

Why didn’t you say that you were coming?” She was trying not to stare at him, but she couldn’t help it. The angle of his cheekbones reminded her of one of the Greek statues from Dubois’s salon. His skin was sculpture-worthy as well, creamy and alabaster pale, just the hint of a blond beard showing on his cheeks and chin. Almost nothing about him reminded her of the petulant boy who had demanded a kiss from her three years ago. Luca gave Cass a funny look. He plucked a series of invisible cat hairs from his black velvet breeches. “I’m sure I mentioned it in at least two letters. Did you not receive them?” Cass reddened again. Her tongue felt knotted in her mouth. “I must have lost track of time.” Santo cielo. He was going to think she’d become a babbling idiot. Luca’s smile wavered for a moment. He stretched out his long legs and crossed them at the ankles. “No matter. I’m here now. Just in time to protect you.” Cass gestured toward Slipper, who had gone back to sleep on her lap. “Well, as you can see, I’m in grave danger of being mauled, right here in my aunt’s library.” She regretted the wry tone immediately. It was the kind of thing she would have said to Falco. Luca would probably take offense at her joke. But he laughed. “He does look rather fierce,” he said.

What are you doing here, anyway?” Cass asked. Luca’s smile vanished. “I thought you’d be happy to see me,” he said. “And your aunt wanted to plan a betrothal ceremony. Didn’t she tell you?” Instantly, Cass’s good mood dissipated. A betrothal ceremony? Once she had undergone the official ritual, there would be no going back on her marriage. She would belong to Luca da Peraga. Like his fur-lined cloak or the feather in his hat, Cass would be just one more pretty thing for Luca to call his own. No more studying. No more adventures. She would become, as Falco said, a caged bird, beating its wings against the bars of its prison. “No, she didn’t tell me,” Cass said hoarsely, trying to push Falco from her mind. His sparkling eyes. The crooked smile. The tiny jagged scar under his right eye. “We can talk about it more tomorrow,” Luca said kindly, perhaps mistaking her dread for nervousness. “I’ll be out running some errands in the morning, but I’ll see you at dinner?” Cass nodded. A pair of servants came for Luca with armfuls of bed linens and towels. Cass fled the library in front of them. She didn’t want to watch Luca settle in to the bedroom next to her. She didn’t want to think about what it meant for the two of them, and for her future.

I don’t need to be fed,” she said. “I may be weak and old, but I have always been remarkably coordinated.” Cass resisted making a comment. She was simply grateful her aunt wasn’t speaking to her in the soft, disappointed tone she had used last night. “Remember that,” her aunt continued, going after a green bean slick with butter. “Don’t fall into the trap of letting others do everything for you. It’s noble to accept help when you need it, lazy to accept it when you don’t.

I daresay you’ve had a more exciting week than Signorina Rambaldo’s,” Agnese commented. She raised a forkful of vegetables to her lips. Cass smiled, pleased at how smoothly her aunt manipulated the utensil. Maybe Agnese was getting stronger. “Too exciting,” she said. “I’m looking forward to lazing about the villa for a few days. Would you believe me if I said I was even looking forward to next week’s studies?” Agnese had arranged for Cass’s literature tutor to present a few more lessons. Agnese’s gray eyes sparkled. “No, I would not.

You should have seen the boy who ran into me, Siena,” she whispered. “He had eyes like yours. So blue!” Siena nibbled on one of her impossibly tiny fingernails. “I’m just relieved that only your dress was harmed.” Cass shot a glance in her aunt’s direction. “And my social standing, apparently,” she whispered, just loud enough for Siena to hear. Her lady’s maid smothered a smile.

The guard can go to the Rialto and tell the rettori. The councilmen look into crimes such as this. They could send an avogadore to investigate.” Falco spun around to face her again. “Who is she? You don’t know. Who killed her? You don’t know. Even if the guard stopped drinking and playing dice long enough to row over to tell the rettori, I doubt the magistrate will be concerned. They only care about crimes that upset the merchants or that scare away tourists. They won’t care about a robbed tomb out here on San Domenico, or about the murder of an unknown courtesan.” “Maybe you’re afraid they’ll think you killed her.” Cass lifted her chin, forcing herself to meet Falco’s eyes, searching them for signs of evil. She saw none. And yet, there had to be a reason he was so opposed to reporting a murder. Falco folded his arms. “And what will they think about you, trolling the graveyard, unchaperoned, with a stranger? A commoner, no less. What will your parents say when the soldiers drag you home? Won’t they be shocked to find out what late-night company their lovely daughter has been keeping?” “My parents are dead,” Cass said simply. She didn’t say it to make him feel guilty. It just came out of her mouth instinctively. She’d probably said it a hundred times, so often that the words themselves felt dead to her, meaningless. Falco softened. “Your guardians, then. They won’t believe that we weren’t…” He trailed off. “It’ll be the talk of the city by daybreak.” He reached out and stroked her hair. “Fun thought, though, eh? A girl like you with me?” His soft touch made Cass warm and cold at the same time. He was right. Aunt Agnese would lock Cass inside the villa if she found out where Cass had spent the evening. And if she found out Cass was consorting with a commoner? Well, that would be very bad, possibly exiled-to-a-nunnery-in-Spain bad.

I will not just forget the body of a friend--a contessa, I might point out--that vanished into the night. And it’s easy for you to say he won’t hurt us. No one’s left you any deranged love notes.” She turned to head back to the villa. Falco grabbed her shoulder. “Hold on,” he said. His strength surprised Cass. She tucked her right hand inside her cloak pocket, and her fingers closed around the handle of the small knife. “Let me go,” she said, “or I’ll scream.” Falco released her. “Please, not that again. My head still hurts from last time.” He flashed a half smile. “Look, I understand why you’re scared. And I understand why you think you’ll feel better if you go to the guard, but they won’t help you.” “So your plan is just for me to stay here with my aunt and wait to be murdered? You do realize you’ll probably be next on the list, don’t you?” “Yes, yes,” Falco said wryly. “I’m not thrilled about the idea of being stalked by a killer, either.

What is it, Cass?” Falco asked. “What just happened?” Cass realized she was holding her breath. She exhaled slowly. “There’s something I need to tell you,” she said. Falco twisted her around to face him. He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “You can tell me anything, Cassandra.” “I’m, I have, when I was young, my parents--” She couldn’t figure out how to tell him the truth: that she was Luca’s, even though she didn’t want to be, that she and Falco could never be together the way they wanted. “I’m engaged,” she finally blurted out, feeling simultaneously terrified and relieved. “My fiancé is away, studying in France.” Falco nodded. “Of course you are. You’re a beautiful woman from a noble family. I’d be shocked to find out that your aunt hadn’t secured your future.” He looked at her expectantly as if he were waiting to hear more. “So you aren’t angry with me?” Cass buried her shaking hands in the folds of her skirts. How could he not be furious? She had lied to him. Well, practically. She had let him kiss her, even though she couldn’t be his bride. She had even kissed him back. Falco smiled at her through the dark. “Is that what’s been worrying you? No, starling. I’m not angry.” He pulled her body close to his again, burying his face in her hair. “You smell amazing,” he said. “Like roses and butterflies and cool spring mornings.” He held her hand up to his mouth, his fingers untying one of her lacy cuffs. Cass’s relief started to fade as Falco’s lips found the bare skin of her wrist. “Wait a minute.” She pulled away. “Why aren’t you angry with me? You and I, we kissed, we might have--” Cass couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence. Exactly how far would she have let things go if she hadn’t been ripped from her moment of fantasy by the stranger on the bridge? When he had loosened her bodice and reached beneath her chemise to stroke the skin of her upper back, all she had wanted was for him to loosen the rest of the laces. She definitely hadn’t been thinking about telling him to stop. Falco’s eyes gleamed in the night. “Go on. We might have what?

The doctor is on his way up,” Luca said. Cass shook her head. “Please--I just want to return to the villa. Perhaps Aunt Agnese’s physician…” She trailed off. She didn’t want to see him either. Him and his leeches.

I should have known if there was trouble that you would find it, Cassandra. You’re very like your parents in that way.” It was almost as if Agnese had read her mind. Cass watched the raindrops ping against the tiny waves as the gondola left the Grand Canal and entered the lagoon. Agnese wasn’t finished. She turned her attentions to Luca. “And you, Luca da Peraga. If you hope to make Cassandra your bride, you’ll have to learn to keep a much tighter rein on her.” Luca’s cheeks colored slightly as he shifted in the gondola. “Mi dispiace, Signora Querini,” he said. “But you speak of your niece as if she’s a horse instead of a beautiful young woman.” Luca dared to flash Cass a quick half smile. She smiled back. Luca’s willingness to defend her to her aunt made her feel as warm, as comforted, as his heroics in the wine room. Agnese harrumphed. “If I speak of her as an animal, it is because her antics are positively uncivilized at times.

Signorina. It appears we have a mutual friend,” he said. “You should join us.” “This isn’t really the place for a lady,” Falco said. His voice was light, but contained a bit of an edge. “Something tells me you can protect her, Falco.” Paolo held open the door of the taverna. “I insist. What harm can one drink do?” Falco arched an eyebrow at his roommate. “Fine. One drink. Then Signorina Cassandra and I have some plans of our own.” “I can only imagine.” The tall boy’s eyes glittered like black glass. “I take it I shouldn’t expect you home tonight then.” Heat surged through Cass’s cheeks. She prayed that no one could see her blushing in the dim light. She followed Falco and Paolo back into the dim taverna, and over to a table where two other boys sat swilling some sort of alcohol out of tarnished pewter mugs. Paolo pulled a chair over and situated it next to Falco, who glanced over at her with an apologetic expression as she settled awkwardly into her seat. “So this is what’s been taking up so much of your time.” Paolo held up his lantern so he could see Cass better. “A bit skinny, but otherwise not bad. How do you afford her?” The other boys laughed. Cass stared down at the tabletop, her cheeks burning again. She concentrated on the seams in the knotty wood. Falco folded his hand around hers, lacing their fingers together. “This is Signorina Cassandra. Cass, you’ve met Paolo. And this is Nicolas and Etienne.” He gestured to the other men, and then turned back to his roommate. “Cass is a friend of mine, so it might be best to keep your attempts at humor to yourself.” “A friend, huh?” Paolo’s eyes narrowed. “Well, there’s no accounting for her taste. How did you two meet?” Cass half listened as Falco spun a tale about doing her portrait as a present for her aunt. All she could focus on was the feel of his hand on hers. His fingertips, pressing tiny indents in her flesh. Ass heard a roaring in her head, felt a rushing, as if all of her body’s blood was making its way into that hand.

There’s something I need to say before I go,” she began. “The night you walked away--” Luca’s eyes tightened. “I was hasty and foolish to leave as I did,” he said. “I’m very sorry. We don’t need to speak of it.” Cass took his hands in hers. “I want to speak of it.” Clearing her throat, she continued, “I was hasty too. I should have had faith in you. While you were away at school, I wandered my aunt’s villa noticing all of the ways I was changing without ever considering that you might change also. That night--” Cass’s voice cracked. She struggled to compose herself. “I wasn’t sure what I wanted. Or perhaps I was sure but just too afraid to recognize it. But ever since, I’ve held you in my mind and in my heart. Thoughts of you kept me strong when I needed strength. The mere idea that we might reconcile gave me hope in my darkest moments.” “Cassandra…” Luca lifted her hands to his mouth and kissed each of her bruised fingertips. “You have no idea what these words mean to me.” “I do,” Cass said, biting back tears.

The undead…The streets are no longer safe.” “The streets were never safe,” the woman responded pragmatically as she held out a copper coin. She had the same stern tone and squat build as Narissa. “I heard the vampires are handsome men who gain their victims’ trust by seducing them.” “Hah. Then I shan’t worry,” the stout woman said. “It’s been fifteen good years since any man at all has tried to seduce me.” Cass smothered a smile. Now the woman reminded her more of Agnese than Narissa. Her aunt had always been blunt about certain things.