Free Belladonna by Fiona Paul

this man explain why he took the time to carve an X in the poor girl’s chest?” she challenged. If Dubois was going to send another innocent man to die, Cass wanted him to understand that she knew it.
    Dubois raised his shoulders slightly. He managed to make even a shrug look regal. “Who can understand the mind of a criminal?” He sipped from his teacup. “The important thing is that Signor Carmino is going to hang for his crime. Justice will be served.” He set his cup down onto the gold-rimmed saucer with a delicate clink.
    “Speaking of justice,” Cass said, her voice turning to acid, “perhaps you can explain to me why my fiancé was carted off to the Doge’s prisons the day after seeking an audience with you.”
    Signor Dubois tilted his head just slightly. “Signorina Caravello,” he said piteously, reaching out toward her, “I can assure you I was as stunned to hear about his arrest as you were.”
    Cass pulled her hand out of Dubois’s reach. “And are you also stunned to hear of his impending execution, just a month from today? Certainly you must not have known or you wouldn’t have been so cruel as to pay us a visit and speak so cavalierly of a hanging.”
    “I apologize. I was unaware a sentence had already been handed down.” Dubois’s eyes flicked around the room. They landed on Siena, who was still pressed against the corner. She appeared to be growing paler with each breath. Soon she would fade completely into the white marble. “But actually I came here because I heard rumor that you or your lady’s maid might have heard from Feliciana Minorita, my missing servant.” Signor Dubois’s eyes went dark for a second; his voice dropped in pitch. “You see, I would do almost anything to have her back.”

seven
“The crypts of Venice are overrun with willing corpses waiting to be harvested for the good of science.”
    —THE BOOK OF THE ETERNAL ROSE
     
    Anything, including lie or kill,
Cass thought.
    “Cassandra, is this true?” Agnese asked. “Has Feliciana been found?”
    Cass shook her head quickly, praying that Siena wouldn’t collapse on the floor in a heap. “No, Aunt Agnese. Most likely, someone saw me talking to Siena and mistook her for her sister.”
    The sisters looked alike from the back, or had anyway, before Feliciana’s hair had been shorn from her scalp. It was a plausible story, and Agnese seemed convinced. But Dubois was staring hard at Siena, as if he thought she might shatter under his gaze.
    “Is there anything else we can help you with, Signor Dubois?” Cass asked quickly.
    Dubois stood up, running a hand through his gray-streaked hair. “It is I who should be offering my assistance to you in this time of crisis,” he murmured. “Do contact me if you hear from Signorina Minorita. And of course, I am at your disposal if you think of anything I can do for you.”
    Cass could think of several things she’d like Dubois to do, like stick his head in a canal and leave it there, but she kept quiet. After he left, she quickly filled her aunt in on what she had learned at Palazzo Ducale, leaving out the part about bribing Giovanni and the jailer. Agnese gave Cass a soft look. “Try not to worry. Truth is a pesky rodent. No matter how deeply it is buried, it will dig its way to the surface eventually.”
    Cass sighed. Truth. No one seemed to care much about that.
    She couldn’t bear the thought of Luca in prison. Who knew what might happen to him there? They could starve him or worse: torture him. She tried not to think of the table laden with coils of rope and blood-smeared daggers.
    Instead, she forced down a quick supper and then returned to her bedroom, where she sat at her dressing table, staring at the tomb key. She had strung it onto the silver chain with her pendant, worried that it might simply vanish otherwise. Her fingers traced the outline of the lion figure, the swirls of its mane, the sharp points at the tip of each paw.
    She flicked her eyes toward