The Blood Burns in My Veins by Megan Derr
Chapter Nine
"How did I escape? With difficulty. How did I plan this moment? With pleasure."
― Alexandre Dumas,The Count of Monte Cristo
Was it more fitting for a funeral when the weather was terrible or beautiful? There was much to be said for both. Dante had never settled on a satisfying answer.
Ferro-donna got a beautiful day for her final farewell. The sun was brilliant, the air neither too hot nor too cold as everyone gathered at the cliffs to watch the boat where Ferro-donni carried her ashes to be returned to Oceana, who would guide the remains on to their final resting place and see the soul went on to its next life.
Nearby, musicians played a forlorn piece she'd been fond of in life. She'd had it played for her all the time by the musicians they kept in residence. More than once as a boy, Dante had heard those same musicians complaining about how very tired they were of the piece.
Several paces away, standing not quite with the Ishikawa family, Gorvenal watched the proceedings absently, his mind clearly on other matters. Dante had every faith that as the funeral came to a close, he would be invited to join Gorvenal for an early lunch, as their initial plans for such had been delayed by Ferro-donna's unexpected death.
Out on the water, Acaeus and Selinah started to sing, and as they went into the second verse, everyone on land joined in, voices raised so they would carry out over the ocean as far as possible, so all would know that this woman was mourned, missed, and they speeded her on to the next life.
Frankly, Dante hoped she rotted at the bottom and became fish food that later got shat out. But he had enough manners left not to be so crass at a funeral.
Mostly, he was disappointed. That one small, unsatisfactory moment where she'd recognized him, begged him, was not nearly as grand as the moment he'd been spinning in his head all these years. But all plans faltered here and there. He could only adjust course and continue on.
The funeral dragged on as more hymns were sung, the ashes cast, and the boat slowly returned to the shore. Several minutes later Acaeus and Selinah finished climbing the steep steps carved into the cliffside and rejoined all the guests who'd been invited to this private ceremony. There'd be a public one later, at the temple, where anyone from the city could come pay their respects.
Nearby priests rang the bells they'd been carefully holding silent the whole time, officially bringing the ceremony to a close. Dante did not bother rushing up with everyone else to offer still more personal condolences. They'd invited him as a courtesy because he'd been there when they first heard the news, and anyone immediately involved was always invited to the private funeral, but they'd hardly want to deal with a stranger at a time like this.
Even if he shouldn't be a stranger at all. They had only themselves to blame for that.
Instead, he moved over to the very edge of the cliff and stared down at the waves crashing into the rocks below. He'd been deathly afraid, when he'd made his escape, that his body would land on such rocks and all his efforts would have been in vain. Thankfully, the prison guardie had cared just enough about their job to ensure bodies were dumped well offshore, weighted to sink well and fast. They'd had so little care for or interest in their prisoners, they couldn't even burn the bodies as was proper, just threw them into the sea in burlap and left them to rot.
Offensive, grossly offensive, but it had worked to Dante's favor. His only regret was that it had meant leaving Faria's body behind to suffer an even more offensive fate. But it was Faria who'd told him what to do, how to do it, and the plan had worked flawlessly.
He'd snuck into Faria's cell via the secret passage between their cells, shoved Faria's body down into the passage, and sewn himself into the burlap sack. They'd thrown 'Faria' into the sea while talking about a card game and how they'd enjoy fucking 'the not-so fancy boy' later. Dante hadn't laughed, but only because he wouldn't risk his one chance at freedom over something so stupid.
Later, though, when he had stowed away amidst the cargo of a merchant ship, with only stolen clothes and stolen food to his name, he had laughed. Quietly, so only the rats would hear him, but it had been real, smug, triumphant laughter all the same. They'd made landfall a month later, and he'd labored and whored his way to where the long-lost treasure Faria had sussed out lay hidden.
After he'd found it, he'd gone to find Faria's son and unexpectedly found a friend.
It was only later, as they'd steadily made their way toward the imperial capital to obtain the title that was the first step in his plan, that he'd learned Ferro Carac had died of illness in prison. He'd gambled heavily that the warden and guardie would prefer to cover up their mistake than admit to it, but really, calling it a gamble was overgenerous. If they'd admitted he'd escaped, all their other reprehensible behaviors would have come out, not to mention the fact two men had built a secret tunnel between their rooms and kept it from the guardie's knowledge for most of a decade.
A polite cough drew Dante from his thoughts, and he turned to smile banally at the man he'd been waiting for. "Ciao, Gorvenal-giudice."
"Ciao, Esposito-don. It was kind of you to come, being so new to Verona and all."
"I could hardly refuse to lend my voice and help Ferro-donna find the peace she could not obtain in life," Dante replied.
"Still, you've not had the best reception to our beautiful city."
Dante laughed dryly. "No, but I can also say it has not been boring. Is the family doing well, overall?"
"Overall," Gorvenal replied.
For a Giudice Principale, he was remarkably easy to read, in the way he tried not to fidget and squirm, the way his eyes danced around restlessly. Dante let him suffer. "Not a fortuitous beginning to such a pivotal betrothal. I hope this means the ill fortune is presenting early and swiftly, and the happy couple will not struggle going forward."
"Oceana willing," Gorvenal said. "I know His Imperial Highness certainly wants everything to go well. Verona flourishes because of Ishikawa and Ferro, and it would flourish all the more should those two houses cooperate. But this is tipping into gossip and that was not my intent. Were you free this afternoon, Esposito-don? I thought we might finally have that lunch."
The man was a crass, impatient boor, especially by the standards of Verona, but Dante hardly cared in the end. "Lunch sounds like a wonderful idea. What do you recommend?"
Predictably, Gorvenal suggested an expensive, showy place where everyone would be sure to see he was dining with the flashy new conte. Since he was the higher ranking between them, and the local showing Dante around, of course Dante would also be expected to pay.
Nobody was cheaper than the wealthy, especially when the wealthy were actually flat broke.
The restaurant was a beautiful one that his parents had taken them to many a time, where a single misstep in their behavior would result in especially brutal punishment when they got home. Dinner there was full formality, and a good place to ingrain such things in young nobles.
It had been around for decades, not quite blood and bone, but damned close. The building itself jutted out over the ocean, giving nearly every table a beautiful view of the water and the setting sun. In bad weather, which was rare, the whole thing could be covered and closed up, and patrons got to admire expensive artwork instead.
Thankfully, they were only going for lunch, which required semi-formal dress, which their current mourning clothes more than met. Once they'd been seated and served an aperitivo of especially dry saké, Gorvenal settled back on his cushion and toyed with his glass. "There must be an interesting story about how you became the Conte di Espisito. That title has languished for generations. I don't recall what it was precisely, other than betraying the crown, but I know the last person to have it did not enjoy it long, and the empress of the time was mad enough she kept the title close forever after, and her descendants followed suit."
"Sadly, the story is not interesting at all. I came into an unexpected fortune. I have always admired the old Esposito lands, and who doesn't like the idea of having a title, of all the authority that comes with it, even one as dusty and forgotten as Esposito. So I went to see the emperor and took lots and lots of money with me."
He'd actually started with the men who had wronged Faria, seen him and his family utterly ruined. Forthwind had said he did not want revenge, so Dante had largely left them alone, only promising that he would be back for them if they did not reform their ways, and after they'd gathered him several glowing recommendations. Those he had taken to the emperor, along with plenty of money, and lo he'd been granted a title, especially since all he'd asked for was one most people had forgotten even existed.
"No dashing escapades or vanquished villains at all?" Gorvenal asked. "I suppose reality often is exactly that simple and dull."
Dante laughed. "Perhaps that is true for the rest of the world, but from what I have seen so far, Verona is ever full of intrigue and excitement. Since my arrival I have driven off a bandit, been invited to the biggest betrothal of the year, participated in a duel that scarred my face, attended the funeral of a powerful matriarch, met an imperial principe, and now I am lunching with an esteemed giudice. Life on the continent is not a third so exciting!"
Gorvenal laughed with him, but there was a sour note to it, no doubt from Dante's soft reminder of why they were having lunch together. "You do certainly have a way of making yourself known, Esposito-don."
Dante's laughter faded, and his smile turned razor sharp. "I may be brand new nobility, signore, but I learned a long time ago that it pays to have powerful friends. I am merely making certain I have at least one of those here in Verona."
"I see," Gorvenal said, and relaxed slightly, for this was familiar territory indeed. He likely made more money from being everyone's 'friend' than he did from his position as Giudice Principale, and that was not a job that paid in lyra. "I am always happy to form new friendships; you had only to ask. Dramatics were not necessary."
Dante waved the words aside, but remained silent as a server appeared with the first course of bite-sized strips of raw fish and a delicate pile of roe wrapped in kelp, accompanied by a fresh round of saké, this one crisp and not quite as dry as the first.
When he'd gone, Dante said, "I'm not sure you've had a chance to notice yet, signore, but dramatics are what I do best. With you, I am only getting started."
The smug, relaxed look that had been creeping onto Gorvenal's face vanished, though he tried to keep an indifferent mien about him. "What do you mean?"
"I mean that one does not make friends by holding threats over people's heads. They do it by way of generosity and bargaining."
"Oh?"
"In the name of friendship, I am generously willing to forgive all debts. In addition to that, I would even be willing to help a new friend out, say… the same again the amount I already paid to this point."
Gorvenal looked ready to cry. "That is beyond generous, Conte."
"Well, now we get to bargains. Two generosities, two favors, to be called in at a later time, should I ever need them. Minor things for a man of your status."
It was a fool's bargain, but Gorvenal only bobbed his head eagerly.
All the easier for Dante. He filled out a banknote and discreetly handed it over, and they finished the rest of the meal discussing far more mundane matters. By the time they parted ways, Dante almost regretted simply not gutting the bastard the way he had that worthless thief.
Patience, however, would result in a vengeance far sweeter, and patience he had aplenty.
Onward, then, to the most important matter of his day: Brom.
He returned first to his rooms at the Golden Chalice and changed into a more casual yukata that would still be suitable for interviewing a potential new stablemaster. He also tucked away the box he'd taken from the stable days ago, and of course his weapons, along with a folding fan to mitigate the heat that would come with the afternoon.
He opted for a boat, rather than the bridges, enjoying the cool breeze and fresh air, the chatter of the sailors behind him, content for a few moments simply to be.
As they reached shore, however, he once more fell into the role of the Conte di Esposito, whose revenge was fifteen years wanting. Today, today he would see what had truly become of the boy he'd once called his best friend in all the world.
The stable was bustling when he arrived, all manner of workers he'd arranged for having set to work getting the stable back into working order. When he got to the office, Brom was sitting there, dressed with painful care in clothes he must have obtained from a secondhand shop or borrowed from someone. A bruise on his cheek bespoke a bad night, either an angry customer or an angry belladonna.
He looked nothing at all like the bright, happy boy who'd once traveled Verona end to end with Carac, getting into every bit of mischief they possibly could, adding flirting to the mix as they'd gotten older and developed a sudden interest in things they didn't quite know how to handle.
Brom stood as he noticed Dante. Confusion filled his face, and for a moment he looked as though he were going to ask a question, but then the expression cleared, and he only bowed deeply. "Ciao, signore. My name is Nakajima Brom. Are you the man I wrote to about the position here?"
"Ciao, Nakajima-san. That is me. Amore Dante, Conte di Esposito. Your letter was intriguing, and if true, rather promising. Sit, sit. Would you like some tea?"
"I'm fine, Esposito-don, but dōmo."
Dante had the tea brought anyway, ensuring there'd be plenty of food with it. Brom looked at least half-starved and ready to fall over, and he had promised Forthwind he'd not be any crueler than strictly warranted. "Come and join me."
When they were settled at the low table in the corner, and he'd managed to get Brom to accept tea and food, he settled back on his cushion. "So tell me more about how you come to know so much about horses, yet now work some unnamed job that keeps you far from them. I do not know much about Verona, but it strikes me that those with knowledge of horses are few and far between, and generally rather valued."
Brom looked old and tired behind the careful mien of composure he kept in place, but Dante refused to be moved. He'd fallen for Brom's tricks once, had believed him to be a true friend for years and years. "The Nakajima are—were—a blood and bone family. We owned this stable for many generations. Unfortunately, my father was overly fond of gambling, and my mother and I were not able to compensate for his shortcomings. The bank took everything, and my mother returned to her family."
"Why did she not take you with her?"
"She wanted to. I refused. I could not be parted from Verona, and I ever hoped perhaps the Nakajima would return to what we were meant to do."
"Own this stable?"
Brom shook his head. "Take care of horses. It would have been smarter to leave with my mother, take care of horses somewhere else, but pride and… private regrets… kept me here. When I heard the stable had been bought again, and they were seeking people to work here, it seemed like perhaps my tides were turning, and I'd once again get to do that which I love most." He shook his head. "I know that sad stories do not prove my skills, Esposito-don." When Dante gestured for him to continue speaking, he laid out his qualifications with almost painful meticulousness.
It would be apparent to even a stranger that Brom really and truly loved that stable, the horses, the work. Dante had already known that, but it was still surprisingly endearing to see after all these years, after all he'd expected to find in the friend who'd stabbed him in the back.
After a few more minutes of questions and idle chatter, Dante spread his hands. "To be honest, you seem a perfect fit. I would be more than happy to accept you on a trial basis of say, six months? After which, if all is well, the job of stablemaster is yours in full."
For a moment, it looked as though Brom was going to cry. He bowed his head to regain control of himself, then looked up with a smile that hurt to look at, because it seemed genuine, and fragile, and like Brom probably had not smiled like that in a long time.
Damn it, Dante wasn't this stupid and weak anymore. He squashed the feelings ruthlessly, buried them under memories of betrayal, of whoring himself out to prison guardie so Faria and he would have food and clean water, of loneliness and hardship and having not a single person in the whole world he could call friend.
He swept an arm out. "Please do look around, note anything that should be brought to my attention, suggestions for the workers. They'll be busy a few weeks getting everything in order, but you can start looking for horses tomorrow. Today, feel free to move your belongings and such, unless you prefer to reside somewhere else?"
Brom gave a sour laugh. "No, there is nowhere else I prefer to reside. If I am allowed to live on premises, that would be wonderful. I will look around and make notes as you requested, and when the workers are gone for the day, I'll return to my current lodgings and collect my things."
"Bene, I will leave you to it."
"Dōmo, Esposito-don."
Dante waved him off with a smile, making a show of going to his desk to look over the various papers there. After a few minutes, he went to the window and watched patiently until Brom vanished into the old stable, weaving his way through several workers to do it. He let a couple more minutes pass, then headed that way himself.
It was tricky climbing up to the loft without making any noise, but Dante had years of practice in being quiet and avoiding notice.
When he reached the top of the loft, it was to see Brom kneeling before the secret hole in the floor, muttering fretfully.
"Where could it be? Damn it. At least they didn't—"
"Looking for something, topolino?"
Brom jerked as though struck, standing and turning all at once, his face gone ashen. "My mother called me that. I thought you—but that it must—"
"Though I what?" Dante asked.
"They said you were dead!" Brom said, and burst into tears. "I tried so hard to tell them the truth later. To write to you to explain. Until she finally sent people to beat me half to death, and that spineless giudice saw to it we were left with nothing." He dropped to his knees, folded his arms across his stomach as he bent over sobbing. "Nobody would give me a job because of them. I could find work nowhere but a whorehouse because of them. Because of that awful fucking night."
Whatever Dante had expected after all these years, it wasn't that torrent of words. He crossed the loft, smug vindication falling away, and knelt beside him. Though the cynical side of him said this could all be a farce, one more lie spun for his benefit, he tended to know real pain when he saw it. "Brom, tell me what happened."
"Your sister, that's what happened," Brom said bitterly. "She caught me up as we were all being dragged to the courthouse. Grabbed me by the neck with those nails of hers. I still have scars." He lifted his hair, and sure enough, faded crescents painted the back of his neck where long, sharp nails had once dug in deep enough to draw blood. Brom let his hair fall. "Told me that if I did not say what she told me, that she would see my family lost the stable and wound up on the streets. I tried to defy her, but she brought up Papa's gambling, and I gave up after that. I never wanted to betray you, Carac. I was often jealous of you. So many times I was jealous of your easy life, the way you took so many things for granted, but mostly I was happy just to be your friend."
He sniffled and wiped his nose. Dante offered his own kerchief, and Brom took it with a mumbled thanks.
"You obviously changed your mind."
"The sentencing. Part of the reason I agreed to just do what Selinah said was that I assumed because you were a Ferro that little to nothing would happen to you. They might send you to school on the continent at worst, more likely put you in house arrest, something like that. But twenty years on the Isola del tasso for a murder they couldn't prove you committed? After that farce of a hearing? I went back every day trying to tell them the truth, but nobody was going to listen to a stupid stable boy. I even went back and found that bastardo's finger and tried to show them that. Not long after that, Selinah sent people to beat me, and then… well, we lost everything. My mother left, after not really trying all that hard to convince me to go with her, and I became a whore. I thought, when I saw the stable had been bought again, that perhaps my life might finally improve…"
He laughed bitterly, fingers wrapping tightly around the used kerchief. "I know an angry Ferro when I hear and see one, mio amico, even one I thought was dead all this time. I do not blame you, but for whatever it is worth, I am sorry I failed you when you most needed a friend. I still do not understand why that night happened the way it did."
"Why do such things always happen in Verona? Secrets and a desperate need to keep them buried," Dante replied. "Come on, we will talk more back in the office. Did you really go back and find that bastardo's finger?"
Brom laughed as he stood and pulled a small bundle of moth-eaten silk from his sash. Unwrapping it carefully, he revealed the delicate bones of a finger, a bare few scraps of dry flesh still clinging to it.
"Holy Oceana," Dante replied, and took it gingerly.
One of the many things he'd stewed on, brooded over, while locked away in Tasso had been the bandit's finger. If just one person had listened to him, had gone back to the scene of the murder, they would have found the finger. It would have proved Dante's story. But nobody, not even his damned parents, had been willing to put forth even that bare amount of effort to exonerate their son.
"I'm sorry," Brom said. "I tried. I swear to you I tried to make it right."
Dante motioned for Brom to follow him, not speaking until they were shut up in his office once more, this time with some saké he bought off a street vendor. When they were once more seated at the table in the corner, Dante finally said, "I wish I had known Selinah had gotten to you. She's an even nastier malmignatta than we ever knew. I am sorry, Brom. All this time I believed you had betrayed me out of jealousy or greed, even both, but you were as much a victim as I."
"I can't believe you're alive," Brom said. "Is it really you, Carac? How did you survive? Escape? Why did you bother to come back?" He laughed, shaky but true, and offered up a wobbly smile. "Stupid question. No Ferro ever tolerated being mistreated or betrayed, and we all mistreated and betrayed you."
Pouring them more saké, as both their cups had emptied rather quickly, Dante gave him the shortened version of his time in Tasso, how he'd escaped, and how he'd come to be back in Verona.
"That's amazing. And you did all of this alon…" He trailed off, and a look of realization, followed by a startling amount of hurt, filled his face. "No, not alone. That man who came to see me, he is with you." He laughed bitterly. "He made certain we came this way, that I would see the job posting. Of course. That makes so much more sense." His expression turned bleak, broken, and he tossed back his saké in a single smooth shot.
"Forthwind? It's true he was supposed to ensure you saw the posting, but that was all. He was to hire you for a few hours, ensure you saw the job posting, and then end the night. Anything else he said or did was fully of his own volition and desire, and he is not me. Forthwind's heart has always been too soft and kind for the games I am playing. He helps me, anyway, for a debt he feels obliged to pay, but machinations are not his way."
Why he was going to such efforts to fix whatever was between the pair, Dante didn't know. If they wanted to be stupid, let them. They were both adults and did not require his interference.
Except that in all the time they'd been friends, Forthwind had asked him for nothing. Clearly there was something here, between the two of them, however foolish and hopeless it would prove to be.
Whatever. Having yet another moment of vindication taken from him was clearly addling with his head. He finished his saké and rose. "The job is still yours, and when I leave, Brom, I will gladly sign the stable over to you. For now, though, I must be off. If you would like to see Forthwind—"
"I don't," Brom said.
"As you wish." Dante left a card with their address at the Golden Chalice anyway, and firmly squashed the guilt attempting to gnaw at him as he departed, putting his mind to the next stage of his plans.