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Authors: Fiona Paul

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“Victory requires knowledge,
fortitude, and focus.”
—THE BOOK OF THE ETERNAL ROSE
t w e n t y-t h r e e
T

he next morning, Cass lay alone in her bed, alone in her
room, as if the previous night had been a dream. But it
hadn’t. She could still feel the pressure of Luca’s hands
upon her skin, his mouth upon her lips. Shaking the
haze of bliss from her brain, she changed into a new dress and made

a futile attempt to unsnarl her hair before venturing downstairs.
Luca was nowhere to be found, so she took her breakfast with
Flavia and then spent the morning reading
The Odyssey
with her.
After reading, Cass retired to her chambers to practice with her dagger. Instead of concealing it in her pocket, she had borrowed a skirt
from Octavia that had thick billowy folds. She made a sheath out of
fabric and tucked the dagger into her belt in a way that her skirts hid
it from view. This made it much easier for her to draw it quickly, if
needed.

Luca found her in the afternoon and invited her to the garden to
watch him practice the sword. Cass fetched her dagger from her
room, intent on practicing more as well.


261

“I missed you this morning,” she said as they passed out into the
warm sun. She was trying not to sound accusatory.
“Did you?” He pulled her into a quick embrace. “I took a walk by
Palazzo Dubois. Rowan will want as much information on the layout
as possible.” His eyes lingered on her, dancing across her form.
He reached out for her hands, and Cass smiled in spite of herself.
Luca touched each of her fingertips to his lips and then held her gaze.
“What are you thinking?” she asked. Secretly she hoped he was
thinking the same thing she was, that falling asleep with their hearts
beating in tandem had been sheer bliss.
“I was thinking that no matter what happens tonight, I’m glad we
have these moments together,” he said. He spun her around once and
then drew his sword, slashing at imaginary adversaries that cowered
among the rosebushes.
Cass watched him practice, her breath catching in her throat as
the sword moved in a series of fluid patterns. In only a fortnight,
Luca had become a different person. His skin was tanned from training outside, and a few days’ growth of blond beard covered his determined jaw. A hint of the long scar down his chest peeped out over
the neckline of his doublet. She blushed as she thought of how she
had pressed her lips upon it the previous night.
Luca sliced a rose from the nearest plant and tossed it to Cass. She
giggled. Drawing her own dagger, she moved about the garden with
him, ducking the blade of his sword and lunging forward when the
opportunity presented itself. Later, they both rested on the garden
bench, and Cass tried to convince herself everything would be fine.
Luca was strong. They both were. They were ready to fight the
Order.

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