Starling (145 page)

would play along until an opportunity presented itself. And when it
did, she would kill him. She was almost looking forward to it.
Just as Cristian turned to open the back door, a man crept into the
kitchen from the front corridor. It was the man Cass had seen outside
after fleeing the gondola. He was short and broad-shouldered, with
a head too small for his body and clumps of sandy-colored hair that
hung down below the brim of his hat. More of a boy than a man, really. Cass didn’t recognize him, but something about him felt familiar. Next to her, Gemma inhaled a tiny breath of air.
The boy was gripping a lantern in his right hand. He must have
taken it from the butler’s office. He might have looked awkward, but
he moved like a cat. Cristian didn’t even sense him approach.
The boy raised the lantern high above his head. Cristian fumbled
with the lock on the door, his shaking left hand trying to work the
mechanism while his right arm held the dagger to Flora’s throat.
The boy took a step.
Then another.
He was almost within reach.
The door swung open. Cristian started to turn.
“Now!” Cass screamed.
The boy slammed the lantern hard against Cristian’s skull, and
Cass heard the same crunching sound she’d heard when she hit him
with the fireplace poker. He slumped to the ground, unconscious.
The dagger fell to the floor with a clatter. Flora landed on her hands
and knees, shaking and sobbing.
Luca thundered down the servants’ stairs, skidding to a stop as he
witnessed the chaos. Bortolo and Narissa were right behind him.
“Cass, what happened?” Luca asked.
The servants were weeping. The boy who had knocked out Cristian looked a bit dazed himself. The lantern hung limply from his
right hand.
“He saved us.” Cass gestured at the boy.
Luca only then recognized the crumpled form on the floor. “Cristian,” he said. Turning to Narissa he added, “Send for the Town
Guard immediately.”
Narissa hurried toward the front of the house. Cristian groaned,
his eyelids fluttering. Flora stumbled back from him, one hand
clutching her throat.
Luca placed the sole of his boot on Cristian’s neck. “Someone get
some rope,” he barked. Turning to the sandy-haired boy, he asked,
“Who are you?”
“Matteo Querini.” He set the lantern on the kitchen counter and
frowned at Cristian. “Where I come from, a man does not hold a
blade to a lady’s throat.” He turned to Cass. “Signorina Caravello, I
presume? I’m here to assume control of the estate. Sorry. I was a bit
delayed in my arrival.”
“On the contrary.” Cass dipped into a shallow curtsy. “I’d say
you arrived just in time.”