Free Master of the Shadows by Lynn Viehl

matters.
    “Your men are too few to make a proper jardin , and too many to join another,” Sylas said. “How did your mistress prevent them from abandoning her to become rogues?”
    “After our suzerain was killed in battle, and our lady refused to accept another in his place, some of the men spoke of leaving Venice. Those of us with wives and blood Kyn needed more protection, and considered pledging ourselves to another lord paramount.” Saetta’s tone grew distant as he gazed out at the assembly. “I think we would have, if not for the fire.”
    Fire had always been a threat to the Kyn, as being burned was one of the few ways they could be killed. “Was it a Brethren attack?”
    “Of a kind.” All expression left the maréchal ’s countenance. “Our women kept their faith better than we did. They still attended services together in our lord’s chapel several days each week. After the jardin wars, they decided among themselves to secretly install a priest. They thought they could control him. They discovered they were wrong when he trapped them inside the chapel and set fire to it.”
    Sylas looked at the faint burn scars on the men’s faces and limbs. “The men tried to rescue them.”
    Saetta inclined his head. “We lost eighteen that day, but none of the women survived. My wife, Francesca, and our daughter, Mariposa, were among them. Then there were the suicides. Another five.” He paused, removing his gloves to reveal strong hands and forearms, every inch covered in faint but visible burn scars. “I should have been the sixth, but for the contessa. She tended our wounds herself, never resting, never leaving us until we had healed. She promised us that she would make our lives worth living again. She saved all of us.”
    Sylas tried to imagine surviving Rebecca. He couldn’t think of his life without her in it. “Forgive me for reminding you of your loss.”
    “You did not know.” The Italian looked out over the assembly. “We pledged our lives in service to our lord, and our loyalty to him never wavered once. But I tell you this: Every man here would gladly die for our lady.”

C HAPTER F IVE
    Reese felt Alain watching her as she snapped a few more shots of the tapestries hanging from the work frames. “I’m almost done.”
    “You are depressingly industrious,” he informed her. “Are you quite certain you do not wish to see my chambers? I have many things there that might please your eye. The furnishings are especially fine, too.”
    “I’m flattered, but as Rebecca said, I have to leave soon.” Reese moved to another angle, one that brought her closer to Alain. “You’re not English, are you?”
    “No, I was Irish in my human life. A traveling minstrel with more hot blood than cool sense.” He came to stand beside her and looked down at her intently. “Damn me, lady, but I swear I know you.”
    Reese shut off her camera and tucked it into her purse. “Perhaps we met once in the city.”
    “I think not. It is not your face, pretty as it is. It is your scent. I never forget a woman’s sweetness, and yours…” He bent his head and breathed in. “’Tis like something in the night.”
    “A field of berries at moonrise,” she finished for him.
    “Yes. Exactly.” He straightened. “How did you know what I was thinking?”
    “I didn’t.” She put her closed hand on his chest. “It’s what you said the first time we met.”
    He gave her a broad grin. “I knew it. When—” He stopped and glanced down at the sharp-ended pressure cartridge sticking out of his shirt. Then his clouding eyes met hers. “Why do you this, girl?”
    “I can’t leave,” she told him. “Not yet.”
    He stiffened. “I know you now. You came at night. You brought me…”
    “I know.” She caught him as he staggered and held him until he sagged. “I’m sorry.”
    It took a few minutes to take what she needed from Alain before she secured him where he would not be immediately found. Once Reese