Queen of the Night (The Revanche Cycle Book 4) (37 page)

“Not bad,” Felix said, taking in the sleepy village. “Not bad at all.”

They’d fled Mirenze with nothing but a pair of battered knapsacks and the clothes on their backs—that, and a going-away present from Sofia Marchetti. In the quiet, empty common room of the Rusted Plow, Renata slapped a fat leather pouch down on the bar. The jingle drew a rheumy glance from Gianni, the crook-shouldered old barman, as he wiped down a dusty tankard.

“That mean I can finally retire?” he asked.

“Your asking price for the inn, plus a little extra for your patience,” she said.

“About damn time.” He looked to Felix. “You’re the one, huh?”

Felix shrugged with a smile. “Guess I am.”

“If you work half as hard as she does, you two should do just fine.”

Gianni tossed down his rag. He scooped up the pouch of coins, weighed it in his hand, and nodded.

“Yep. Feels about right. Okay, I’m retired. Don’t burn the place down or anything.”

Renata and Felix were married that afternoon, rousing the sleepy local priest and meeting him at the ivy-twined arch behind the village’s tiny chapel. They’d discussed surnames ahead of time. Renata knew she’d wounded Aita during Felix’s rescue, but she couldn’t tell if it was a mortal blow. And even if Aita hadn’t survived, other friends of Basilio’s might still be hunting for them. It was best, they’d decided, if the Rossini name was laid to rest forever.

“Gatti?” Felix had asked on their walk to the chapel. “You want our family name to mean ‘cats’?”

Renata flashed a grin, and her fingers teased at the back of his neck.

“Why not? We both used up the better part of nine lives, and we landed on our feet.”

“Huh.” Felix nodded. “All right. Gatti it is.”

And that was how Renata and Felix Gatti started their new lives as the keepers of the only inn in Kettle Sands. Village life was quiet; it was simple, and it was plain.

It was paradise.

One afternoon, a week after they’d settled in, Renata found an unexpected visitor on their threshold. She looked over from the bar, blinking.

“
Hedy?
”

The young woman’s boots and cloak were dusty from the road, her homespun dress bearing fresh patches and signs of mending, and a heavy burlap sack rode one of her shoulders. She raised a small hand in greeting.

“I promised I’d come see you in Kettle Sands someday,” she said. “Besides, I had to see if you made it.”

Felix, dusting down one of the back tables, glanced up from his work. “Who’s this?”

“An old friend of mine.” Renata stepped out from behind the bar, skirting the tables. She stood before her visitor, hands fidgeting at her sides, not sure if she should embrace her. “Felix, this is Hedy. Hedy, can I…can I get you anything? Food, drink?”

“I wouldn’t say no to something to eat,” Hedy said with an awkward glance at her feet. “I’ve…been on the road for a while.”

“Well, set down that sack and pull up a chair. I’ve got a beef stew simmering for the dinner crowd, and it should be just about edible.”

It was, Renata had to admit, better than just edible. She brought over two bowls and took up a stool next to Hedy at the bar, both of them tucking in. Hedy ate like a racehorse. Renata wasn’t sure where she was putting it all, but she plowed through one bowl and most of a second one, and Renata wondered when her last good meal had been. They made small talk mostly, polite and empty conversation, dancing around the edges of the ordeal they’d survived together. Finally, Renata decided to press the subject.

“When we parted, after the bandits, you were going to…go back to be with your, um, people. What happened?”

Hedy stared at her bowl, swirling her wooden spoon in the steaming mix.

“I lost my family in Lerautia. They died.”

“Hedy, I’m…” Renata put her hand on her shoulder. “I’m so sorry. Listen, I meant what I said before. You can stay here. With us. There’s enough work for a third pair of hands, and room and board. We’d love to have you. You don’t have to be alone.”

Hedy took a long look across the empty common room, eyed the dance of dust on a shaft of sunlight from the window, and sighed.

“That’s sweet. Thank you. And I wish I could stay, Renata. I can’t tell you how badly I wish I could. But I have a job to do.”

She set down her spoon and rose from the stool.

“Thank you,” she said, shouldering her sack. “For the food. And for the company.”

Renata nodded slowly as Hedy walked away. “Be safe out there, Hedy. And our home is always open to you. If you ever change your mind, we’ll be here.”

Hedy paused in the doorway.

“I’ll remember that.”

“Where will you go now?” Renata asked.

Hedy smiled, but it didn’t touch the sorrow in her eyes.

“I am my mother’s daughter,” Hedy said, “and her work is not yet done.”

*     *     *

Five months later, as the last of the winter cold finally passed the village by, they had a second unexpected guest. This one rolled into Kettle Sands in two jet-black coaches pulled by teams of thoroughbreds. Felix saw the coaches rattle to a stop outside the inn and spotted the glint of the silver monogram
G
from the window. Cursing under his breath, he ran for the kitchen.

“Felix?” Renata looked up from a kettle, frowning. “What is it?”

“Aita,” he said.

She hadn’t come alone. Thugs in Grimaldi family livery poured from the coaches, armed to the teeth. They surrounded the building, covering every way out. Aita was the last to step down onto the newly sprouting grass. Her flowing golden hair spilled across the shoulders of her smoky velvet gown. She came inside, alone. Felix and Renata stood on the far side of the room. Felix with a butcher’s knife he’d snatched from the kitchen, Renata brandishing a long-tined roasting fork.
Not much help
, Felix thought
. If all of her men burst in here at once, we’re good as dead.

“You two,” Aita said, “were hard to find. Felix, does anyone here know that you’re married to two women? The Church frowns on that, I’m told. You’re being scandalous.”

“We talked to the priest about that,” Renata said. “He said the first time didn’t count, seeing as you’re not really human.”

Aita offered a lazy smile as her gaze slid to Renata’s hand. “Touché. And really—a fork? You’re going to kill me with a fork? Don’t embarrass yourself.”

They watched, silent, as Aita strolled around the common room. Running her fingertips across the tables, eyeing the windows like an appraiser getting ready to make a bid. Then she stopped and looked their way.

“Explain this.”

Felix shrugged at her. “Explain what?”

“My hunters were under orders to observe and report back. I expected, by now, you’d be stockpiling weapons. Gathering allies and making your plans for revenge.” She paused, frowning. “My man said that all this…it isn’t a ruse. You’re acting like you’re not coming after me at all.”

“We aren’t,” Renata said.

Aita stared at her. She blinked.

“After all I’ve done to you, why not? And, Felix—I still control the Banco G-R. Your entire family business, your accounts, your
money
.”

“You’re welcome to them,” Felix said. “I have a new name now. It suits me. And we make enough to get by.”

“How can you be happy like this?” Aita said. “You’re living like peasants. Why aren’t you in Mirenze, working against me? Why aren’t you
fighting back
?”

Renata curled her arm around Felix’s waist.

“Because we have everything we need,” Renata said, “right here.”

And in that moment, as her shoulders sagged and her lips slightly parted, there was something smaller about Aita. Something less. She had the eyes of a woman who fumbled around the edges of some great truth but couldn’t grasp it. And her eyes reflected the knowledge that it was something inside herself, something flawed and broken, that kept her from comprehending what was right in front of her face.

“Well,” she said softly and looked to the window. One of her men stood outside, a blade on his hip. Waiting for orders.

Aita turned away. She stared down at the floorboards, lost in thought.

“I suppose…the civilized thing to do, as a guest, is to offer a wedding present.” She lifted her gaze. “Your lives, I think, will do. Stay hidden. Stay out of my city. Do that, and I won’t be forced to visit you a second time.”

“Fair enough,” Felix said.

Aita paused, lingering, as if she had something more to say. In the end, she left without another word. Felix and Renata watched her climb into her coach, her gaze distant, and the horses brayed as they carried her out of the village and back to a world she could understand.

They never saw her again.

TWENTY YEARS LATER

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

Sofia Marchetti was a lioness in winter. The elderly woman stood at the prow of the
Siren’s Bounty
, snowflakes drifting to rest in her ashen hair. Her crow’s-feet were deeper, etched by time and sadness, but her eyes were still as bright and as sharp as they’d been in her summer years. In the distance, the port of Winter’s Reach loomed out of the misty haze, the harbor filled to bursting with galleons and cargo ships.

The years had treated the Reach well. Every time Sofia visited—once a year, this marking her fifteenth trip—the city was a little bigger, the buildings a little taller, the locals’ purses a little fatter. The
Bounty
was the Banco Marchetti’s biggest hauler, a five-master with an empty belly ready to be filled with prime-cut lumber. As they put into port, she finalized the details with her captain and first mate, then went ashore. She had an appointment to keep.

At the mayor’s house, a young, broad-shouldered servant in crushed velvet escorted Sofia through the gilded halls to the office in back. Veruca’s polished brass buttons caught the light as she turned from the bar, her faded strawberry hair cascading over the shoulders of her tailored vest. She lifted a crystal decanter of whiskey in greeting.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in.”

“You knew I was coming,” Sofia told her, “so you’d better have
two
glasses.”

“Pfft. A real woman drinks from the bottle. That’s all, Sergio. Dismissed. Off with you now.”

The servant offered a quick bow and hustled outside, shutting the door behind him.

“Is it just me, or is your staff getting younger every time I visit?”

Veruca shrugged. “I need vigor and the stamina of youth. Otherwise I wear ’em out too fast. Speaking of, if you want a taste of that one, just say the word.”

Sofia held out her hand for the decanter. “After the voyage I just had,
that
is what I want a taste of. So, same deal for lumber exports as usual? Can we lock in terms for the coming year?”

Veruca’s fingers played over the stacks of paperwork on her desk.

“Same deal as last year,” she said, “plus two percent.”

Sofia tossed back a swig of whiskey, biting her bottom lip as the drink scorched her throat, and passed the decanter back to Veruca. “It was ‘plus two percent’
last
year, too.”

“I have expenses! And you have competition. Ever since Dante convinced the Empire to acknowledge the Reach as a free city and wipe the old slate clean, business has been booming. Still have no idea how he did that.”

“I think blackmail was involved,” Sofia told her. “And the Banco Marchetti is still the only authorized reseller in Mirenze. That’s a big,
big
market, Veruca.”

Veruca sighed. “All right, all right,
one
percent over last year.”

“That I can live with.”

“How is Dante, anyway?”

Sofia shook her head. “Not happy, of late. I think he’s getting restless. A victim of his own success: all his schemes paid off, all his battles won. There’s nothing left to challenge him.”

“Well, his old job’s waiting for him, if he ever wants it back.”

The crow’s-feet crinkled at the corners of Sofia’s eyes. “He has stories about those days. Didn’t you try to sell him into slavery once?”

“Sure, but just the one time. Not like I’d do it
again
.” Veruca paused. “Probably. Besides, with the Reach going all legitimate and respectable, nobody left to sell him to. You know the best thing about clearing out all the old villains?”

“No competition for the title?”

Veruca snickered. “How surprised Captain Zhou was when I had him hanged. He genuinely thought I was playing a practical joke until the platform dropped out from under his feet. You should have seen the look on his face.”

“Your sense of humor is, as always, unique.” Sofia hesitated. “You should know, this is my last visit to the Reach.”

The decanter froze at Veruca’s lips. “What? Why?”

“These old bones won’t make the trip anymore. Last time I damn near caught my death from the cold, had to spend three weeks in bed. No, it’s time for me to retire. I watched Mirenze fall, and I watched it rise again, and it was a hell of a ride in both directions. Didn’t hurt my fortunes any, either. After all that, I’ve earned a few blissful years of doing absolutely nothing.”

“
Boring
.” Veruca rolled her eyes. “You’ll still write, yes? I assume your hands aren’t too arthritic to hold a quill.”

“Of course I can write! I just wasn’t sure you knew how to read.”

Veruca snorted and drank from the decanter. “Well, don’t be in a hurry to leave. You’re not going anywhere without a feast. I’ve got to finish up some paperwork here—damn paperwork never ends, now that we’re doing things the
legal
way. Meet me at the Hall of Justice around sundown? Going to be a great show tonight.”

“What was that you said earlier, about going legitimate and respectable?”

“Please,” Veruca said. “Nothing wrong with a little bread and a little circus. We haven’t forgotten
all
our traditions.”

“All right, twist my arm, I’ll be there. See you tonight, Veruca.”

As Sofia opened the office door, Veruca called to her.

“Out of curiosity, what happens to the Banco Marchetti when you retire?”