Chapter 24 #2
Even if he does agree to tell me what I want to know, I can’t be sure how much of what he divulges will be lies and how much of it will be the truth.
Bes and Cec already proved themselves to be decent enough liars, and I have some idea of who they learned it from.
However, I know from experience that the best lies hold a bit of the truth in them.
Meaning I either need Ansaldo to tell me the truth or be a master at lying.
In his line of work, he’s unlikely to be a terrible liar, at the very least.
I glance at my watch, wondering how long it’s been, before remembering it’s still set to the wrong time.
Instead, I take in the walls, lit by large hanging oil lamps and embellished with gaudy medals and unusual keepsakes.
A large, intricate tapestry takes up one entire wall, and a bookcase fills out most of the other.
Pushed near the back of the room is an old wooden desk, piled high with neatly-organized papers.
Beside the papers sits a wax kit and what I first think is another dagger, but upon closer inspection is too simple to be anything more than an ornate letter opener.
Nothing like the dagger he pricked me with yesterday.
“Anything I should know before Ansaldo graces us with his presence?” I ask them. “Like his greatest fear or favorite alcoholic beverage?”
“Failure and a negroni.” Cec sniffs. “But those won’t help you.”
I cross my arms over my chest, regarding him. “I like to know my enemy before I face them.”
Bes’s next words are thoughtful rather than accusatory. “After what he did, I can’t blame you for calling him your enemy.”
I recall what Cec told me this morning, about how Bes’s father died, how it made him the man he is today. And though my heart still bleeds for him, I can’t help thinking he doesn’t see his father figures as clearly as he should.
“After what he did, what else would you call him?” I argue, fighting to maintain my composure. “I believe he more than deserves the title.”
I square my shoulders, staring Bes straight in the eye. “I’ve known men like him all my life. I refuse to feel remorse for judging a person who holds so much power, whose entire persona is naturally holier-than-thou.”
Bes grins softly. “I couldn’t agree more.”
“My father…” Cec sighs. “Well, you already experienced some of what he’s capable of last night. You’re right to be wary of him.”
“You are,” Bes clarifies. “In fact, it’s best to consider everyone your enemy and let them earn your trust.”
His gaze lingers on me, and my body heats beneath his attention.
I told Bes what feels like ages ago that he needed to gain my trust rather than the other way around.
It took time but, now that he’s able to answer all my questions—and I understand the reason he lied about some of it in the first place—I do trust him.
As much as it frightens me, I trust him with my life.
He surprises me by reaching out and taking my hand, which I now realize is tightened into a ball.
Slowly, gently, he pulls on each finger until it’s no longer a fist. I breathe out unevenly at his touch; it both soothes my nerves and lights them on fire.
I relax my muscles as he caresses the back of my hand with his thumb.
“However,” he continues, “we should find some time today to get you to the training room so you can take your anger and frustration out on a dummy.”
I smother a smile. I suppose him knowing me well isn’t so bad.
“There’s no need to call Cec names. He’s doing the best he can.”
Cec clutches at his heart. “You wound me, madam.”
I reach over with my free hand to pat his arm. “I call it like I see it.”
A moment later, the door opens again. Bes drops my hand.
Ansaldo walks through. The man wears a uniform without wearing a uniform: today, he dons a dark brown long-sleeved shirt with a black vest, and dark brown pants.
Half a dozen rings glitter across his fingers, including a signet ring I didn’t notice him wearing last night.
He reeks of espresso when he passes by us without a word.
He settles into his imposing, high-backed leather chair, splaying his large fingers across the desk.
“What’s this about?” he asks. “I’m a very busy man.”
“I simply wish for some answers,” I explain, trying to keep my words kind and my tone even, despite wanting to punch him in the jaw. “Given how you treated me last night, I feel I’m owed something.”
He squints. “Do you, now?”
“Unless you want me to make your life a living hell while you keep me trapped here? I do.”
He grimaces. “I suppose that’s only fair, considering your family has been involved in the order since its inception. You must have many questions.”
I blink at him. I’m… speechless. Actually speechless. That doesn’t happen to me often, and I don’t care for it.
He nearly confirmed Nonna as being part of the order last night, though I didn’t want to believe it.
I refused to fully consider it because that would mean that Nonna has been lying to me all my life.
And I couldn’t stomach it. Not after trusting her so implicitly; she was the only parent I’ve had for nearly my entire life.
But for my ancestors to have been here from the beginning?
My stomach sours. How could Nonna have kept so much from me?
Yes, everyone’s allowed their secrets, but this is life-altering, in more ways than one.
Especially when she clearly involved the order with my whereabouts without my knowledge.
She had to have known that coming to this place, learning about all this, was a possibility.
Don’t forget about the blood oath, I remind myself. If she was part of the order, she would’ve been forced to take it. However, based on Bes’s explanation, she would’ve been able to tell me some things. Not the full truth, but some part of it.
Instead, she kept me completely in the dark this entire time.
Legs giving out beneath me, I take a seat in the chair opposite the desk, with Bes and Cec settling on either side of me. Ansaldo watches with calculated attention. Deciding to at least appear at ease, I slump into the hard wood and thin cushion.
Trying to soften the hard-beating of my heart still, I peer around the room pointedly. “I thought you’d have a bigger office, being the head of a world order and all.”
He regards me with a bland expression. Although he does steeple his fingers on the edge of the desk. I hit a nerve. It gives me some comfort.
“Your family has a knack for getting under my skin. It’s… heartening to see you’re no different.”
I’m sure it is. It heartens me, however, to know I’m not the only one in my family to not take this place or its leader at face value.
“Before we begin,” he says, glaring pointedly at his son and nephew, “I want to remind the two of you that there’s no fraternizing within the walls of the order, no matter the other person’s standing.”
They must nod, which seems to be good enough for Ansaldo. Raising a brow, I find it interesting that Ansaldo felt he needed to make that clear for them both in front of me. I know for certain Cec has already defied this order. But I hope Bes hasn’t. A strange pang of jealousy strikes at my stomach.
Then I remind myself that I called this meeting for a reason, and that reason is not to dig into the order’s rules for fraternizing.
As I open my mouth to ask my first query, a knock sounds behind me. Ansaldo rises to his feet to answer, speaking softly with whoever’s on the other side.
With him occupied for a moment, I turn around in my seat to regard Bes and Cec, whispering, “There’s no chance people aren’t fraternizing here. What the hell else is there to do all day?”
Cec chuckles, but Bes is the one who responds. “People take the rules very seriously here. That being said, I’m certain there are some members willing to bend them.”
I repeat Ansaldo’s phrase from yesterday: “Bes Belzoni, as I live and breathe.”
Color marks up his cheeks. “We both know I was speaking of Cec.”
Cec shrugs. “Guilty as charged.”
I focus on Bes instead. “Are you saying you’ve never fraternized here before?”
Bes clears his throat, shifting uncomfortably in his shoes.
“Not never,” he clarifies. “But not to the extent Cec has.”
I have absolutely no room to be envious, considering I haven’t exactly been a saint either. But I am curious who Bes has consorted with before. If she was as smart or as good-looking as he is. If it was a one-time affair, or if one of them wanted more…
The door shuts, cutting off my thoughts as Ansaldo returns to his desk.
“I’m all ears, Miss Hawkins.”
“Alright then,” I start, “what can you tell me about my family’s involvement in the Order of Cavendi? And why it has anything to do with my being here?”
He sits back in his chair and squares his shoulders.
“As I alluded to earlier, Lucia’s side of the family played a key role in the inception of the Order of Cavendi thousands of years ago.
In fact, many of our documents mark an ancestor of yours as a founding member.
The Fiore’s have served the order well since then.
” He clears his throat. “Until your mother, that is.”
I stifle a gasp. My mother, part of the order? I suppose it makes sense, given my nonna was involved. But that would mean nonna fraternized—something I don’t want to think about now or ever—with someone either outside or inside these walls.
The Fiore’s, founding members of the Order of Cavendi. I’m having trouble wrapping my head around it.
How long has my nonna been hiding all this from me? Did she think I’d never have to be involved with these people, so why say anything?
I can’t believe Nonna sent me here with all this in place, all the while keeping me in the dark. If everything had gone to plan, I never would’ve known about any of this. She would’ve kept lying to me.