Starling (111 page)

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Authors: Fiona Paul

BOOK: Starling
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Her own imprisonment. The burning workshop.
Falco’s death.
Cass realized she was balling the fabric of her dress inside of her
fists. She unclenched her fingers and did her best to straighten her
rumpled skirts.
Maximus’s lips quirked into a smile. “I see I have asked the impossible of you,” he said. “We’re going to Mezzanotte Island.”
“Mezzanotte Island? I’ve never even heard of that.”
“It’s a bit southeast of the Lido.”
“In the Adriatic?” Cass asked. “What on earth are you taking me
to see all the way out there?”
But Maximus wouldn’t tell her. And Cass, her mind racing, sat
forward and did feel the wind in her hair as she wondered about
their destination.
The fisherman cursed under his breath as the boat cut between
the Giudecca and San Giorgio Maggiore. The water had become
rough, slamming into the boat’s narrow bow and sending plumes of
frothy spray in Cass and Maximus’s direction. Cass curled her legs
behind her, tucking her feet away from the water that sloshed back
and forth as the boat pitched in the waves. Off to the west, she could
see the outline of San Domenico, and she couldn’t help but think of
Agnese, of the villa that had been her home for the past few years.
She wondered if Joseph Dubois was still watching the island.
The fisherman turned sharply, and Cass dodged another wave as
it crawled over the edge of the boat. Sparkling blue water stretched
out in all directions, beautiful but menacing. They were alone with
the sea. If they capsized, their bodies might be lost forever.
“How much did you have to pay him to travel all the way out
here?” Cass asked, relief coursing through her as a long finger of land
she knew to be the Lido came into view.
“Enough,” Maximus said. “But I think you’ll find our destination
worth the journey.”
The Lido came and went, and then they were back to the open
water. Rocky structures rose up on either side of them. Cass couldn’t
believe anyone lived so far from the city. These weren’t islands. They
were just clusters of stone and vegetation that probably disappeared
and reappeared based on the ocean levels.
The fisherman steered toward one of the larger landmasses and
the swirling current pitched Cass and Maximus from side to side.
Her stomach lurched, and she clung to the side of the sandolo so as
not to end up in the conjurer’s lap.
“Hold on,” he said. “We’re almost there.”
As they approached the island, Cass saw a narrow strip of sand
and a wall of gray stone beyond it. At the top of the cliff, she could
just barely make out the sharp spike of a bell tower stabbing its way
into the clouds.
“Mezzanotte Island,” Maximus said.
The fisherman swore again. Cass turned to watch him, her eyes
widening as he frantically rowed on one side and then the other in an
effort to keep Cass and Maximus from getting drenched. As they
approached the island, a skeletal network of rock formations and
coral rose out of the water. Brightly colored fish darted in and out of
the rocky canyons as the fisherman navigated his way back and forth
around the jagged outcroppings. Despite the fact that his boat was
getting soaked, he wore a half smile above his grizzled beard, as if
some part of him truly enjoyed navigating this treacherous water.

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