Chapter 15 Lia
LIA
The house has fallen quiet. Too quiet.
It is the morning after Francesco’s engagement ceremony, and there’s no laughter or music. There’s no clinking of glasses, no strange man following me down the halls to tell me weird things.
Yet, I still feel the weight of everything that happened last night hanging in the air around me.
The candles have burned low. The guests have returned to their various destinations, save for a few of them still lingering, talking amongst themselves. I wish they would all just disappear.
I keep my head down as Marta hands me a fresh set of linens and tells me to clean the guest rooms in the east wing. The hallways leading to the east wing smell like incense and smoke. There’s something else lingering in the air too. Fear.
I keep glancing behind me, hoping I’m not being followed.
I have been unsettled since hearing the strange man’s words last night.
Another thing I found suspicious was the way Marco and Francesco rushed in to my rescue, even though, at first, he was just talking to me.
The man wasn’t physically hurting me, yet they rushed in like he was shoving poison down my throat.
Maybe he was the poison, and he succeeded in engraving his words in my head.
I keep my head low until I reach the room I’ve been assigned to clean. The door creaks softly as I push it open. Stepping into the room, I shut the door behind me.
The sheets are rumpled. The air smells faintly of something sweet and sharp, something that makes my stomach turn.
“Ugh! You’re fine, Lia,” I whisper to myself, shaking off whatever weird energy that has surrounded me since last night.
I walk over to the bed, tug the covers back, and strip the bedding, but when I spot what is on the bedside table, my whole body freezes.
A single feather dipped in black wax. Next to it is a small white coin.
My fingers tremble as I reach for it. It’s smooth and heavy, but my skin prickles at the feel of it in my hand.
As I examine it, I notice that it is etched with a strange symbol.
I’ve never seen this symbol, but I know this means something, and I want to find out what.
Although I’m the only person in the room, I glance around once before slipping the coin in my pocket.
I’m terrified. It probably belongs to one of the rich creeps who attended the ceremony.
What if the owner returns in search of it?
What if it is revealed that I am the maid who cleaned this room and, therefore, the main suspect of this theft?
I exhale a shaky breath and resume my cleaning. I might be scared, but there’s never been a time that my fear stopped me from reaching for what I want.
And I must find out what this coin is.
I don’t think I will be going back to the cellar today. It’s been one chore after another, and my whole body aches. I just finished my last chore of the day, and the only thing I want to do is curl up on my bed and sleep.
I let out a deep sigh as my body collapses onto the mattress. I have never felt this exhausted before. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally.
I raise a hand to my neck, using my fingers to massage where it hurts. My eyes are shut firmly as I wait for the exhaustion to kick in and send me straight to sleep. That does not happen.
Instead, I spend the next few minutes tossing and turning on the bed. No position seems to be comfortable for sleeping. With a frustrated huff, I sit up to adjust my pillow. That’s when I see something under it.
A parchment. It is folded with no seal.
“How did this get in here?” I mutter to myself.
I stare at it for what feels like hours before reaching for it. It feels crisp and solid. I open it to reveal its content.
Just three words scrawled in thick, dark ink:
The seed decides.
There’s no signature or clue to who left this, but I know the message is for me. My heart drops somewhere into my gut as my mind flashes back to the strange man from yesterday. His words were vague and unsettling, just like this message.
What if…
I shove the blanket off my body and spring out of bed. I have to go back to the cellar tonight. I have to read and look into anything that might reveal what the symbol on that coin means.
I wait until the halls are empty and the lights are low, then slip down the staircase in nothing but a nightgown and the coin in my hand. I don’t stop until I reach the cellar, push the door open, and close it behind me as silently as I can.
It’s cold and slightly damp inside. The air down here always feels heavier, like it remembers things it shouldn’t.
I head straight to the wine shelf and unlock the hidden compartment with my ring. I reach for the stack of books. There should be something about the symbol in my father’s journal.
Except… the journal is nowhere to be found.
My stomach twists.
No. This can’t be.
I check again. Behind old wine boxes, under the shelf. But I know it’s fruitless. I knew it was gone the moment I didn’t find it exactly where I left it.
I breathe slowly, trying not to panic. Only one person knows I’ve been coming here.
Francesco.
Did he know exactly what I was looking for? Exactly what I’d found? How did he unlock this hidden compartment? Does he have a key? Or did I, in my haste, forget to lock it properly? I must have; that day was all a blur to me, after everything that I found.
But then, why would he take the journal?
I tell myself he only took it before someone else could. Maybe he didn’t want it falling into the wrong hands.
I know that’s a lie.
I shake my head to get rid of my conflicting thoughts. The only way I can be sure of anything is if I confront him directly about it, which is not the easiest thing to do, especially since I never want to speak to him again. Especially not now, not after the ceremony.
“Focus,” I hiss quietly at myself. I didn’t come here to spiral over Francesco. I came to find answers.
I dig through the books anyway, flipping through pages fast but carefully. And then, on the last page of one of the books, I see a grainy picture. A case made of glass, and inside the case is a thick, leather-bound book with a seal etched onto the front.
The same one on the coin.
I stare at it, trying to place where the photo was taken. The walls behind it… the marble… maybe one of the private floors?
“The flower that blooms in the wrong season always bleeds the soil.”
A terrified gasp leaves my lips at the sound of the voice.
That voice doesn’t belong to anyone in this house. It’s calm, airy, and too sure of itself. I turn around slowly, blood rushing in my ears.
Cassian De Luca.
After I left the ceremony last night, I asked Marta who he was. All she told me was his name and that he was the heir to the De Luca family. She seemed scared even saying his name.
He is dressed in black. His icy eyes almost glow in the dark. His hands are in his pockets. He’s smiling.
“How… how did you get in here? What are you doing here?” I force the words out as steadily as I can manage while my instincts scream at me to run.
He steps forward in slow and light movements, like he’s floating instead of walking. And just like last night, he’s humming a low tune under his breath.
“Curiosity. It’s a powerful thing. Dangerous, too.”
I grit my teeth. There’s something else mixed up with the fear I feel. Anger.
He tilts his head. “You’re not like the others.”
I grip the coin in my palm and raise it. “What is this? This symbol, what does it mean?”
His eyes flick to it. That strange, knowing smile of his widens.
“A seed. A key. Depends on what it unlocks, doesn’t it?”
“Stop speaking in riddles,” I snap, my heart pounding. “Just say what you fucking mean.”
He continues to move toward me. I know I should run, yet my legs remain rooted in the ground. His smile doesn’t leave his face as he comes to stand directly in front of me.
Then he leans in, not enough to touch, but close enough that I feel the chill coming off him.
“Truth kills faster than poison, my dear. Are you sure you can handle it?”
“What do you know about the Romanos? You don’t seem to like them, and they don’t seem to like you either.”
Something shifts in his eyes.
“Your father got too close,” he murmurs, not directly answering my question. “He thought he was exposing corruption. He didn’t realize he was unearthing bones. Old ones that have been buried deep for decades.”
My heart begins to thud even faster.
“He unknowingly unraveled the kind of history that punishes bloodlines, the kind that should remain buried alive…”
My voice comes out hard. “They killed him.”
“Of course, they did. They always kill the ones who get too close.”
He takes another step toward me, and that is when I take a step back. He smirks. “What they didn’t know was that your father was only repeating history.”
“Who are they?” I whisper, but I already know. “You mean… La Mano Nera? They are some kind of secret society?”
He chuckles. The sound is soft, yet eerie. “Maybe. But no. I mean history.”
I frown. “What are you saying?”
He walks toward a shelf and runs a hand along the thick, smooth wood.
“There was a man, once,” he says. “Vecchio Nero. One of the first six. He saw danger in every branch of the old bloodlines. He tried to cut them off and turn against his own people. Until two families made a pact.”
My mouth goes dry. First six of what? Could it be those names I saw in my father’s journal?
Romanos, Morettis, De Lucas, Altieris, Vescovis, Salvatores.
They were mentioned so many times in the second book I didn’t understand. They all must be in this society together, and they killed my father to hide his truth.
“Romanos,” I whisper. “And the Morettis. They share a dark history.”
Cassian hums, turning to face me. “Their ancestors broke every law. Killed their own to survive. And they thought they could end it. Seal the truth with blood. And they bound themselves and their heirs through carefully planned loyalty displays, decades in the making.”
His gaze drops to my stomach. “But you can’t kill a prophecy.”
My arms wrap around myself instinctively. “What prophecy?” I ask, my voice trembling slightly.
He steps forward again.
“The child of unsanctioned blood,” he murmurs. “The one who ends what the ancestors began.”
My breath stutters. “You’re insane—”
He reaches a hand toward my midsection, slowly and deliberately.
I jerk back on instinct. “Don’t touch me!”
He doesn’t flinch. “You already carry the key, Lia. And you don’t even know what you’re about to unlock.”
I stumble back, heart pounding as I rush past him and out of the cellar, feeling the walls close in on me.
His voice echoes after me. “You can’t run from what’s in your blood.”
I blindly bolt up the stairs. I don’t stop until I slam straight into someone.
Strong arms catch me before I can fall. His scent wafts into my nostrils.
Marco.
He steadies me, his eyes narrowing as he sees my face.
“Lia,” he says in a low voice. “What the hell—”
“I need to get out,” I gasp. “Please. Just—”
He doesn’t ask again. He shrugs off his coat, wraps it around my shoulders, and leads me out of the house. We cross our usual spot in the courtyard, moving toward the stables, to the far edge where no one pays attention to or watches.
I collapse onto a hay bale, and he sits beside me.
I lean against him, and he lets me. I don’t even realize I’m crying until I feel the wetness on my cheeks. It’s not loud or messy. Just soft, shaking breaths and silent tears.
Marco doesn’t say anything. He just sits there and holds me in his arms. I don’t know how long we stay like that. Minutes. Hours. He stays with me until my body softens and my breath evens.
Until the fear fades enough just to let me sleep, with the coin still in my palm.
I’m beginning to understand why my father died.