Starling (147 page)

Narissa huffed, but nodded to herself as she stepped back to admire her handiwork. “I guess it’ll do,” she said. “I’m going to make
sure Cook has everything prepared for the feast and that Giuseppe is
done in the garden.”

Cass nodded. She was grateful for the moment alone. She hadn’t
seen Luca all morning, but the servants had all been in and out of her
room, bestowing words of advice and congratulations, taking too
much pleasure in telling long embarrassing stories from when Cass
had first moved into the villa.

Narissa shut the bedroom door with a click and Cass considered
her reflection. The dress did look lovely with Narissa’s modifications, she had to admit. But there was something different about her
face. Her eyes. There was a heaviness to them she’d never noticed
before. She stared for a moment, trying to decide if she was imagining
it.

Turning from the dressing table, Cass went to her armoire. Inside,
behind all of the neatly folded gowns, was the picture of her that
Falco had painted. She pulled it out and carried it over to her bed.
As she sat beside it, her fingers tracing the paint’s uneven texture, her
heart remembered each moment of the night the painting had been
started. The girl on the canvas was a stranger. She looked young and
innocent. Delirious with joy. Her eyes were filled with light.

“Those were the days, weren’t they?”
That voice.
Could it be?
With her heart trembling and her breath lodged in her throat like
a stone, Cass lifted her eyes.

It was.
“Falco,” she breathed.
His bruises from being beaten at de Gradi’s workshop had healed.

He looked a little thinner than Cass had remembered, but otherwise
the same as the day they had met. Smiling fondly down at the painting he said, “I’m glad that you kept it.”

“How did you—”
“Get inside?” He spun around once, and Cass realized he was
wearing the blue-and-silver livery of the Querini estate. “You act as
if I’ve never done this before.”
“No. How did you survive the fire? I thought for certain . . . Everyone told me you were dead.” Cass reached out with one hand, her
fingers grazing his forearm to make sure he was real.
And where have
you been?
“After I helped you through the window, the building started to
collapse,” he said. “I managed to pull myself out just in time. I
thought I heard you calling my name, but before I could answer,
I  was hit by a chunk of falling stone. When I woke up, you were
gone.” Falco raked a hand through his hair. Cass noticed an angry
red scar on his left temple. “I asked everyone if they had seen you,
but they all told me the same thing—no one could have escaped
alive. They didn’t seem to believe that I had been inside the building.
They thought I was a liar, or a madman.”
Cass wasn’t sure whether to tell him that Cristian had found her
unconscious body and taken her. No. Even though he had saved her
life, Falco would feel horrible if he knew that Cass had suffered more
after their ordeal. She wouldn’t mention it. The Ducal soldiers had