Maximus said. He rapped delicately on the doorframe, and Octavia looked up.
“Maximus, darling,” she trilled. She rose from behind her desk,
smoothing her low-cut bodice. Cass tried not to stare at Octavia’s
breasts, but it was difficult. They were so large and round, just waiting to spill out of her dress the first time she bent over even slightly.
Yet she somehow managed to curtsy to Maximus and still remain
decent.
“Who is your little friend?” Octavia asked, settling back into her
chair.
Cass hated when people spoke about her as if she wasn’t even in
the room. She cleared her throat as if to speak, but Maximus nudged
her in the ribs.
“Let’s just say she’s a noblewoman who fell upon a bit of bad luck.
Her betrothed has cast her out, and she’s here to inquire about lodging for the night.”
Octavia’s eyes narrowed. “Cast her out, you say?” She turned to
Cass. “Did you take another lover, dear?”
The olive-skinned courtesan’s eyes widened at this. She turned
completely around in her chair, seemingly delighted at the idea of
such a scandal.
Mannaggia. Cass should have known enough to come up with a
story before arriving at the brothel. She glared at Maximus before
responding through gritted teeth. “I did.”
“Flavia, you may be excused. We will talk more of your studies
later.” Octavia made a shooing motion with her hands, and the courtesan reluctantly headed for the corridor. “Close the door behind
you, please,” Octavia added.
“Goodnight all,” Flavia said. She dipped into a partial curtsy before leaving the room.
“Now then, where were we?” Octavia said, once the door had
clicked shut. Her eyes flicked from Maximus to Cass. “That’s right.
You were about to tell me who you really are and why you’ve sought
refuge at my establishment tonight.”
Cass looked over at Maximus. He nodded gently. Turning back
to Octavia, Cass licked her lips, but no words came out.
“You can trust Octavia,” Maximus murmured, resting a reassur
ing hand on her shoulder.
Cass hoped he was right. Clearly the woman didn’t believe his
hastily contrived broken-betrothal story. “May I sit?” she asked.
Octavia nodded and Cass took the seat vacated by Flavia. She
took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. After glancing back to make
sure the door to the room was secured, she said, “I am Signorina Cassandra Caravello.”
“The girl who broke into the Doge’s prison?” Octavia asked. Not
even a twitch of surprise registered in her expression. “Is there not a
huge reward for information about your whereabouts?”
Cass frowned. “Yes, but Maximus said—”
“That you could trust me. And you can. But if anyone knew I was
sheltering you . . . ,” she trailed off.
“I know it’s a risk, but I can pay you,” Cass said, thinking of the
gold back in Agnese’s storage area. “I don’t have the money with
me—”
Octavia nodded. “It’s not simply about money. It’s about the girls
all being a bit fearful. You see, two of them disappeared last week.”
“Disappeared?”
“I assumed they’d simply run off to work for someone else or try
to make a go of it on their own. But then Tessa’s body was found beneath the Conjurer’s Bridge, drained of its blood.” Octavia made the
sign of the cross over her chest. “I never believed in vampires until I
saw their handiwork with my own eyes.”
So Octavia and her girls were victims of the Order. Tessa must
have been the girl the vendor had mentioned.
“I have reason to believe,” Cass began slowly, “that it’s not vampires, but rather a group called the Order of the Eternal Rose that is
behind the attacks.” She felt as if she should say more, tell Octavia
how the Order believed the fifth humor was real, and could be made
only by recombining the body’s four humors. That Joseph Dubois
and Angelo de Gradi had tried to extract humors from stolen corpses,
but Belladonna and Piero sought their humors
“Maximus, darling,” she trilled. She rose from behind her desk,
smoothing her low-cut bodice. Cass tried not to stare at Octavia’s
breasts, but it was difficult. They were so large and round, just waiting to spill out of her dress the first time she bent over even slightly.
Yet she somehow managed to curtsy to Maximus and still remain
decent.
“Who is your little friend?” Octavia asked, settling back into her
chair.
Cass hated when people spoke about her as if she wasn’t even in
the room. She cleared her throat as if to speak, but Maximus nudged
her in the ribs.
“Let’s just say she’s a noblewoman who fell upon a bit of bad luck.
Her betrothed has cast her out, and she’s here to inquire about lodging for the night.”
Octavia’s eyes narrowed. “Cast her out, you say?” She turned to
Cass. “Did you take another lover, dear?”
The olive-skinned courtesan’s eyes widened at this. She turned
completely around in her chair, seemingly delighted at the idea of
such a scandal.
Mannaggia. Cass should have known enough to come up with a
story before arriving at the brothel. She glared at Maximus before
responding through gritted teeth. “I did.”
“Flavia, you may be excused. We will talk more of your studies
later.” Octavia made a shooing motion with her hands, and the courtesan reluctantly headed for the corridor. “Close the door behind
you, please,” Octavia added.
“Goodnight all,” Flavia said. She dipped into a partial curtsy before leaving the room.
“Now then, where were we?” Octavia said, once the door had
clicked shut. Her eyes flicked from Maximus to Cass. “That’s right.
You were about to tell me who you really are and why you’ve sought
refuge at my establishment tonight.”
Cass looked over at Maximus. He nodded gently. Turning back
to Octavia, Cass licked her lips, but no words came out.
“You can trust Octavia,” Maximus murmured, resting a reassur
ing hand on her shoulder.
Cass hoped he was right. Clearly the woman didn’t believe his
hastily contrived broken-betrothal story. “May I sit?” she asked.
Octavia nodded and Cass took the seat vacated by Flavia. She
took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. After glancing back to make
sure the door to the room was secured, she said, “I am Signorina Cassandra Caravello.”
“The girl who broke into the Doge’s prison?” Octavia asked. Not
even a twitch of surprise registered in her expression. “Is there not a
huge reward for information about your whereabouts?”
Cass frowned. “Yes, but Maximus said—”
“That you could trust me. And you can. But if anyone knew I was
sheltering you . . . ,” she trailed off.
“I know it’s a risk, but I can pay you,” Cass said, thinking of the
gold back in Agnese’s storage area. “I don’t have the money with
me—”
Octavia nodded. “It’s not simply about money. It’s about the girls
all being a bit fearful. You see, two of them disappeared last week.”
“Disappeared?”
“I assumed they’d simply run off to work for someone else or try
to make a go of it on their own. But then Tessa’s body was found beneath the Conjurer’s Bridge, drained of its blood.” Octavia made the
sign of the cross over her chest. “I never believed in vampires until I
saw their handiwork with my own eyes.”
So Octavia and her girls were victims of the Order. Tessa must
have been the girl the vendor had mentioned.
“I have reason to believe,” Cass began slowly, “that it’s not vampires, but rather a group called the Order of the Eternal Rose that is
behind the attacks.” She felt as if she should say more, tell Octavia
how the Order believed the fifth humor was real, and could be made
only by recombining the body’s four humors. That Joseph Dubois
and Angelo de Gradi had tried to extract humors from stolen corpses,
but Belladonna and Piero sought their humors
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