Starling (5 page)

if you want me.”
If only it were true. Of course she wanted Luca, but would he
want her if he found out about her involvement with Falco? Probably
not, and Cass wouldn’t blame him.
“You should run while you can,” she said, only half joking. “I fear
I may be cursed. Everyone who has truly cared about me is dead.”
“Except for me.” Luca looked up at her, his eyes full of softness
she didn’t deserve.
“Let’s try to keep you that way.” Cass forced a half smile as she
showed him the theriac balm. “Move your shirt so I can see your
wound. My father used to swear by this concoction.”
Luca pulled his torn shirt down over his shoulder, and Cass tried
not to stare at the bands of scar tissue running down the center of his
chest—macabre mementos of his time as a prisoner of the Doge, evidence of torture that he refused to speak about. She needed a clean
bit of cloth to apply the salve, and the soiled, wrinkly dress she’d
been living in wasn’t going to suffice. There had to be linens or napkins or even a chemise in one of these boxes she could use. Hopping
up from her seat, she went to the nearest crate and tried to pry the lid
off. It was stuck.
Kneeling down, she braced herself against the side of the crate for
leverage. She curled her fingertips underneath the edge of the wood
and pulled back with all her might. The lid came loose with a jolt,
and she tumbled backward, knocking a small box from the top of a
nearby stack in the process. The box’s contents poured out on the
stone floor in a clatter.
“Are you all right?” Luca sat up to see what had happened.
The spilled box was full of pewter teacups, each one wrapped in
plain muslin for protection. Exactly what Cass needed. She grabbed
a piece of the rough cloth and used it to smear some of the theriac on
Luca’s shoulder. The wound was scabbing over nicely.
Then she heard a creak from outside the room. Her eyes widened,
and she hopped back to her feet. The box that fell from the stack had
made an awful racket. Could it have awakened Bortolo in his office
down the hall?
Cass hurried toward the wooden door, berating herself for not
locking it as soon as she had returned. She lunged for the deadbolt,
but was a second too slow. The door swung inward on its hinges.