The Blood Burns in My Veins by Megan Derr

 

 

 

 

Chapter Twelve

 

 

"Fool that I am...that I did not tear out my heart the day I resolved to revenge myself."

― Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo

 

 

Dante's raised sandals clacked loudly on the cobblestones, all the louder for the early morning hour. The nightsoil workers were finishing up the last of their work, and farmers and shopkeepers were beginning their days as a last few straggling drunken nobles would be stumbling into their beds—or going straight on to breakfast.

He passed only a smattering of people on his way, a light drizzle falling. He barely needed the umbrella he'd brought along, but he hated when his hair got wet. It was already heavy, given its length and thickness. Getting it wet just made it exponentially worse.

Several food carts were ready to go for the morning rush that would begin in another ten, twenty minutes. Dante paused at one that was selling stuffed bread, picking out one filled with red bean paste and another filled with sweet espresso cream. Another cart provided a marvelous shot of espresso to chase the sweet breakfast down, and then he was on his way again.

Despite the years that had passed, years where anger and a desire for vengeance had chipped away at Ferro Carac and carved out Amore Dante, he'd never forgotten his way around the city.

He'd certainly never forgotten the path to Janshai's shop, though he dreaded making that walk. At night, stealing the contraband Acaeus had intended for pirates, had been easier.

Now, though… now was going to be more difficult. Of all the betrayals he'd endured that day, Brom and Janshai had hurt the most. His family was his family, and after he'd had time to calm down, their backstabbing had surprised him least.

The kindly old man who'd always seemed to care for him…

Well, all clams looked the same at a glance. It took paying attention to figure out which ones were dead inside.

Never mind trying to find the ones that contained pearls.

His mind immediately pulled up memories of Naoki. A stolen kiss in the rain. Dante jerked his head sharply, trying for the hundredth time to banish the damnable image. What had he been thinking? Why would he ever do something as stupid as kiss an Ishikawa? Loving one had destroyed him. The Ishikawa and the Ferro were too full of rot.

Try as he might, he could not forget that moment he'd realized when Naoki was far more than a spoiled drunk. When he'd realized just how deep Naoki's pain and sadness ran. That depth was achingly familiar, and Dante hated it. He didn't want to understand, let alone resonate, with a fucking Ishikawa.

That kiss. Why, why had he done that? The memory of it, Naoki's warm mouth, that delicate body flush against his own, the surprising strength in the slender arms around his neck. He still didn't know why he'd done it. Something in him had not been able to bear seeing Naoki so deeply entrenched in such a stupid lie. Ugly. Naoki was easily the most beautiful person in Verona. If his mother was alive, she would consider Naoki her greatest triumph, her glory. She would have fought to ensure he married into royalty, became a principe or an imperial consort.

Instead, he was left to rot, used and abused, mostly by a jealous, insecure stepmother who couldn't stand her children weren't half as impressive. Well, no, that wasn't fair. Haru was more than half. Not quite a rival, but not easily dismissed either.

No, this was stupid. He shouldn't be wasting his time and energy thinking about Naoki's beauty. Or his mouth. Or his everything else that Dante wanted to see, because apparently he really was the world's biggest damned fool.

As the dumpling shop engraved in his mind came into view, Dante tried yet again to force thoughts of Naoki from his mind. It worked this time, but only because his mind was well-trained to focus when revenge was right in front of him.

In the soft morning light, the shop almost looked more quaint than dingy. He could smell the dumplings, pork and cabbage and green onion. The usual pan fried, but also steamed and soup dumplings.

He slipped through the cloth banners that marked the entryway and picked a table close to the door, but not one so close that he would appear to be a robber or a meal-thief.

Behind the counter, Janshai was toiling away. Whatever staff or family he used to have, clearly they had abandoned him. Hardly surprising.

"Grandpa-san, I'll take a full plate, at your leisure. Plenty of heat!"

"As you like it, Tani-don."

A few minutes later, Janshai came shuffling over with a heavily loaded plate and a small pot of tea and cup.

Dante had come the other day to execute this part of his plan, but Janshai had been nowhere about, and Naoki had been here anyway.

He shifted his thoughts before they could get the better of him again. "Dōmo, Grandpa-san. I had some of these the other day and could not forget them. Finally I had to come back for more."

Janshai smiled. In his youth, Dante had mistaken it as sincere. Older and wiser, he could see the artificiality of it, the smile of an old man eager to please customers for additional coin, but who wanted nothing to do with them otherwise. Dante had been so happy and proud as a kid, that someone had liked him just for him. In the end thought, Janshai was no different than anyone else, and had pretended to befriend a young, gullible Carac for his family's wealth. "That is kind of you, Tani-don. Are you a visitor to our beautiful city?"

"Yes, here to establish some vital parts of my business. Amore Dante, Conte di Esposito. My pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Oh, ho, I've heard that name quite a bit these past several days." Greed gleamed in his eyes, not really hidden by an ingratiating smile. "Eat up, eat up, Esposito-don. I hope you enjoy your meal."

Dante ate, working steadily through the plate. He would not be able to finish it all, though he'd do his best, hating to waste food. Almost a pity that Forthwind hadn't been able to come with him; he would have finished a whole plate and whatever was left of Dante's.

Forthwind, however, had yet to reappear. As there was nothing Dante needed him to do that day, likely he had convinced Brom to traipse about the city with him.

When he'd finished all that he could, he pushed the plate aside and called for more tea. A few minutes later Janshai came over with a fresh pot, and Dante motioned to the empty seat across from him. Around them, the place was otherwise empty, and had been since his arrival. "Have a seat, Grandpa-san."

Janshai smiled stiffly, clearly wanting to find some way to refuse, but something in Dante's tone or face must have made clear that refusing was not an option, for he only set down the tea and took a seat. "Is there a problem, Esposito-don?"

"Quite a big one, I'm afraid." He nodded his head toward the heavy door at the back of the restaurant. "You've an impressive closet. Pity that some brigands ran off with the contents."

Janshai's smile collapsed. "I beg your pardon, Esposito-don?"

"Go ahead and check if you do not believe me. That key Ferro-don gave to you recently, to open the door so the pirates may retrieve their contraband, will unlock only an empty room."

"I— I don't know what you're talking about. That is just an old storeroom."

Dante smiled in a way that had made even the hardened guardie of Isola del tasso recoil. "An old storeroom that contained Ferro-marked imperial steel and quite a bit of papavero. Check it."

Trembling, face drained of all color, Janshai hastened off as best he could on his old bones and went to check the storeroom.

He came back only a couple of minutes later, near to tears as he sat down. "It's gone. What did you do?"

"You don't need the details, but don't worry, for I'm about to tell you what you need to know." He reached into his yukata and pulled out the duplicate key he'd managed to obtain for Hardegin's warehouse. It had required him putting the bribed servant on a ship, with enough funds to start a new life outside the Kitonia Empire, but it was a small price in the grand scheme of things, and one he'd expected.

Setting the key on the table, he pushed it across so it was easily within Janshai's reach. "Take that. When the pirates show up to fetch their goods in two nights, tell them the contraband was moved to warehouse twenty-three. They'll go to the warehouse, take their goods, and go on to sell it for their precious fortune, with no one the wiser that anything was ever wrong."

Janshai slowly picked the key up and tucked it away. "I do not understand, Esposito-don."

"All you need to understand is that if you do not do this, fortunes and lives will be lost. Do you understand that?"

"I do, Esposito-don."

"Good. I trust you also know not to discuss who you had this conversation with?"

"I understand that, too."

"Excellent. Ciao, then, Grandpa-san, and may the tide bring you good fortunes." He winked and departed, throwing coins on the table, far more than the meal had cost.

Back out on the street, Dante took a deep breath and let it out slowly. One more step taken. One more step closer to the end.

He kept his eyes firmly on the road ahead of him as he walked on, looking at neither the spot where Arata had died in his arms, nor the spot where he'd kissed Naoki. His stomach churned with the sour mix of old hurts and new turmoils. Clearly he had a weak spot, and that weak spot was pretty Ishikawas. Well, he wasn't going to let that weakness get him a second time. Naoki might not be on his list of people who deserved to pay for what had been done to him, but that did not mean he was on the list of people Dante gave a damn about.

One more step taken. On to the next step.

That step, of course, was ensuring that when Janshai inevitably chose greed, he would be able to come and go from the warehouse with no trouble from the guardie.

He could simply bribe the guardie to be absent himself, but he wanted Giudice firmly entrenched in the matter, to the point he'd have no choice but to cooperate later.

A servant opened the door only moments after he knocked on it, and Dante handed her a sealed note. "Ciao, bella-san. Would you see this is delivered to Gorvenal-giudice when he comes home this evening?" He used a simple sleight of hand to make a coin appear in his hand and gave it to her. "Dōmo, and good tidings on your day." He winked at her, far more friendly than the one he'd given Janshai, and with a smile and rose-flushed cheeks, she promised to deliver the note and slid the door closed.

That was all the important matters of his day attended, until night fell and a fresh round of mischief began. For now, he would return to his rooms and get some rest, and when he woke, go over the next steps yet again to be sure all would go as expected. The problem with so many moving pieces was that there were more ways for everything to go wrong. So far, though, very little of his plan had been upset. Hopefully that trend would continue.

As he reached the Golden Chalice, however, one of the clerks at the reception desk gestured him over. "Gomen, Esposito-don, but someone has come to see you. I would not let her into your rooms, of course, but she was quite insistent, so I have put her in one of the private guest parlors on your floor."

"I see. Dōmo for letting me know."

"Room three, Esposito-don."

Dante headed up the stairs to his floor. Instead of turning right down the hall to the rooms he'd taken, however, he turned left and headed for the three rooms at that far end which were all guest parlors, for those who did not want to meet in the lobby but did not want people in their own space, either.

Inside room three, he was not at all surprised to see who his guest was. The mask might hide her identity from most, but he knew an Ishikawa when he saw one, especially when it was one of the only two who weren't contemptible. "Ciao, Haru-donna. What brings you here to see me? I like to think I am handsome, but I do not think I'm that handsome."

A surprised laugh burst out of Haru. "Ciao, Dante-don. You are that handsome, I promise, but no, I am not coming in hopes of an assignation. I'm not sure I could be that bold."

"I think you'd manage it, if that was what you really wanted. But now that my heart is broken eternally, what is it you really want from me, bella-donna?"

She pushed back the hood of her short cloak and removed her mask, slipping it into an inner pocket. "Gomen, Dante-don. We do not know each other well, but… I feel you are the only one I could turn to who might not just understand me but be willing to help me."

"It is my pleasure to help, always." He motioned her to the sofa and took a chair that was well-opposite. If someone should burst into the room, it would be hard to believe there was anything untoward going on, no matter how hungry they were for nasty gossip to spread. "Tell me of your troubles, Haru-chan."

The affectionate suffix seemed to relax her a bit, and with a deep exhale she said, "That… woman… you introduced me to at the betrothal."

"I recall her, of course."

"We didn't write notes to each other. All we could figure was that you did, though we still don't understand why."

"I was only the messenger, but what does that have to do with your visit?"

Flushing, Haru said, "We get along well—very well. But it is increasingly difficult for us to meet. I was wondering if you might have advice. We considered letting a room somewhere, but there's no way either of us could do it, even via servants, without the knowledge eventually getting out. Secrets are impossible to keep in Verona."

"Secrets have a way of getting out everywhere in the world. People like to know what they shouldn't, and to brag by then sharing that knowledge, and so the cycle continues. You must learn to play the game or live honestly, and sadly for most, the former is by far the only viable choice."

Haru looked crushed, eyes pinching shut as she willed back tears. "You are saying we must give it up."

"Not at all, bella. I am saying that you are young, and despite your blood, you clearly are not accustomed to the game of secrets and lies. Luckily for you, I am, and the solution to your problem is quite simple." He reached into his sash and withdrew a key affixed to a delicate jade charm with red cord. "This is for a room over a shoemaker's shop." He rattled off the address. "She is paid handsomely to neither ask nor answer questions. Be discreet, behave yourselves when you're not behind closed doors, and the room will serve you well for as long as you need. I've not needed it since I started spending most of my time here."

Her eyes widened, and again it looked as though she might cry. It was endearing, seeing her so ardent over a simple love affair, reminding him a bit of himself and Arata. Mostly, though, he scoffed at how dramatic she was being over an affair that would end in a few more weeks, months at best, when their interest in each other finally burned out.

It worked well for his plan to ruin her father's life in all aspects, but he hadn't anticipated either girl would get this worked up over the affair. Well, the young did everything with blind passion, he knew that better than most. He was almost sorry they would likely suffer collateral damage from his vengeance, but nothing and no one would steer him from his course.

"You're extraordinarily kind, Dante-don."

Dante laughed. "I assure you that is not true. I'm merely better at hiding my fangs than most vipers on this island."

"I do not believe you. First you saved us from a bandit who would have gladly killed us for little more than pocket change. Next you showed up at Naoki's betrothal ball and made him the happiest I have ever seen him when you had that duel, even if the price was a scar, though honestly neither of you seems less beautiful for having them. That doesn't seem fair somehow, but there it is." She smiled. "Now you are helping me with my romance, simply because I asked it of you—though of course I am happy to return a favor in kind, especially after all you've done for me. I do not want you to think me the sort to take and take and never give."

"You are young, and it is the duty of the young to enjoy life and leave the messy details of it to us boring old adults. If it will ease you, though, I promise that should I have need of your help, I will come to you at once. Now run along, bella—" He broke off at a knock on the door. "Put your mask on."

Haru swiftly obeyed, and once she was again anonymous, Dante opened the door.

The maid on the other side said, "Gomen, Esposito-don, but I was told to let you know you've another guest, waiting downstairs in the lobby for you to attend him at your leisure." She offered a small card shaped like a delicate clam shell, on which was scrawled Naoki's name on one side in his own hand and his name and address printed more neatly on the other.

"Dōmo. Please send him up to my rooms, and I'll attend him once I'm finished with my current guest."

When she'd gone, Dante closed the door and turned to face Haru. "I am clearly popular with the Ishikawa family. Your brother has come to see me."

"Naoki?" Haru's mouth dropped. "Why would Naoki come to see you? Is he here for an assignation?"

"If he is, that is a surprise to me, and also none of your business," Dante said with a laugh, ignoring the way his heart flipped in his chest at the idea. He wasn't that stupid. He hadn't been in a long time, and he wasn't reverting now. "I've had him brought up to my private rooms. Once he's there, and I've joined him, slip out quickly and quietly. Understand?"

Haru bowed slightly. "I'm grateful once again for your help, Dante-don."

Dante scoffed and dismissed the words. "Be ready now, and the next time you need my help, send a note first, to the Nakajima stable. The man there, Brom, will see it gets to me."

"I will. Dōmo."

Dante bid her farewell and returned to his chambers. Inside, waiting just beyond the entryway, was Naoki. The sight of him left a gut-punched feeling that Dante did not like at all. He'd scarcely wasted a single thought on Naoki, past how useful the Ishikawa drunk could be to his plans. Until the duel. Somehow, that short span of minutes, the steel and the fire, a worthy opponent where he'd least expected it, that moment of blood and pain that had forever changed his face…

Somehow, that stupid duel had changed something. Everything. Dante didn't know why or how, and he didn't like it one bit, but he knew better than to keep lying to himself. Something about Ishikawa Naoki drew him, and he needed to find out what and snuff it out before he did something irrevocable and stupid.

Currently, Naoki wore a yukata of the most delicate shell pink, with a sky blue sash for contrast, embroidered with flower blossoms in a rainbow of colors. His hair had been pulled back with ivory hair sticks, from which hung bird charms. He was, as always, breathtaking.

Pulling his mind from all the things he wanted to do to Naoki, each one more foolish than the last, Dante summoned up his most charming, decadent lord smile "Ciao, Naoki-don. What has brought the pleasure of your company to my door?"

"Ciao, Dante-don. I wanted to come thank you again for the other day. I even brought a gift." He nodded toward the table in Dante's entryway, where sure enough, a parcel wrapped in vibrant scarlet and gold cloth waited patiently to be unwrapped. "You encouraged me greatly, and I came out better in the marriage than I might have—would have—otherwise. My policy is generally not to play the games my family loves so dearly, as I am guaranteed to lose, but… I did play this time, and won, and I feel that is because of you. So dōmo."

"It's nothing, tesoro mio," Dante said. "Talking costs me nothing, which is good, because I do a lot of it."

Naoki laughed. "I won't deny that's true, but it's also true that people enjoy listening to you."

"Are you people?" Dante asked, cursing himself even as the words slipped out.

The flirty reply got a surprised look from Naoki, and then a hesitant smile. "If I didn't, would I be here thanking you for doing so?"

Dante removed his shoes and slowly closed the space between them, ignoring all the warning bells clanging in his head, the way his mind called him every word for 'stupid' that it could possibly scrape up.

He did, at least, manage to keep his hands—and everything else—to himself. "Would you like something to drink? How is life married to a malmignatta?"

"Not so different than living in a pit of habu, really. A drink sounds nice, but I do not want to impose on your day."

"If I thought you were an imposition, you would not have been brought to my rooms." Dante led the way into the suite proper, skimming quickly around the room for anything Naoki should not see. He motioned Naoki to take a seat in the main room, currently arranged for leisure, and fetched a carafe of lotus wine and two cups from the kitchen.

When they were settled and drinks poured, he said, "I am surprised you were allowed to venture out on your own, given this must be your first full day as a married man."

"Married in secret, so really nothing in the day to day has changed much. Selinah does not want to make the marriage known until it's too late for anyone to do anything about it."

"That is the shrewd thing to do." Dante's stomach churned at the idea of Naoki not just marrying his sister, but giving her children. What did he care? Well, he did not want an unborn child to suffer for the crimes of its parents, but it also wasn't his problem if that was what happened.

Anyway, by the time he was done, Naoki would have plenty of grounds for annulment or divorce.

"So what did you ask for, if I might know?' Dante asked. "What concessions did you extract from them?"

Naoki sipped delicately at the lotus wine, far from the usual way Dante had seen him drink thus far. As though he were enjoying it, instead of seeking the distance it could give him. "To be left alone, and that our children not be treated the way we've been treated. I never understood why parents seem so fond of hitting and slapping their children. I do not want that for mine."

There were so many things Naoki could have demanded, things that would have brought him power, more independence, a better position from which to pick bigger fights. Instead, all he'd asked was for solitude and that his children not be abused.

Dante did not like the way that made him feel. Not one little bit. "Not many would bother to think of children they've not even had yet, tesoro mio. I commend you."

As always, Naoki looked surprised and pleased by the endearment. Knowing what he did of Ishikawa-donni, guessing why wasn't exactly difficult. He doubted anyone but Naoki's mother had ever spoken kindly to him, let alone affectionately. The only one might be Haru, and they did not seem like the type of siblings to use endearments.

"Why do you call me that?" Naoki asked.

"Tesoro mio? It seems to suit you."

That gained him an odd look, which Dante supposed was fair, but it was the truth, and lying would gain him nothing.

Whatever Naoki might have said, he chose to keep it to himself, for better or worse, and only sipped again at his wine. "Why did you choose to come to Verona, of all places? We are nothing to scoff at, but surely there were equal, if not better, opportunities on the continent?"

"Who doesn't want to see the famed Verona, especially when they have all the money and time required to fully enjoy it?"

Naoki seemed disappointed by the answer—rather, that it was very clearly an evasion.

"I had personal reasons as well, but I prefer to keep them to myself for now."

That restored the happier expression, and Dante hated, hated the pleasure that thrummed through him. "Of course. I was not trying to pry. I'm sure you get enough of that, especially after the drama we unintentionally caused at my betrothal ball." He reached up with a soft laugh and stroked one finger along his scar. "Seeing it in the mirror still brings a surprise. We're both quite lucky we came out of it with nothing worse."

Dante scoffed. "I will not have either of us insulted by saying it was luck. You are a more than fair hand with a blade, tesoro mio. It was skill that spared us greater damage."

Naoki laughed, and Oceana grant him mercy, but the man was even lovelier when he laughed so openly and truly like that. "I sense, Dante, that you would bicker with the gods should they ever try to take credit for something you're certain was entirely your own effort."

"I would. Gods get enough credit already for things they may or may not do."

That got him more laughter, which was exactly what he'd wanted, and he did not like this at all, even a little bit. Oceana damn him to the deepest depths of her domain. He curled his left hand briefly into a fist, feeling the way it pulled, ached, struggled to move the way it would have had a bastardo thief not plunged a dagger right through the middle of it. He'd worked day after day, month after month, to make his hand work again. It would never function perfectly, but it was much better than he could have ever hoped.

It was also a reminder of how stupid he would be to act on his lust-addled infatuation with a pretty Ishikawa. He'd gone down that path once, and it had cost him everything. He would never regret loving Arata, and he would burn all these bastardi to the ground for what they did, for the injustice of his sentencing, all the lost years of his life, and the justice that Arata had been denied. Because of greed. Because of desperation. Because of dirty secrets and selfish desires.

He would never regret Arata. He would also never be stupid enough to fall for another Ishikawa.

"You turned pensive."

"My apologies. Sometimes my thoughts get the better of me, and my mind seems to like brooding thoughts best."

"I know a bit about that," Naoki said softly, and looked as though he might say something further, but the tolling of the bells in the nearby square stopped him short. "I did not realize it had gotten to be so late. I did not mean to overstay my welcome, gomen."

"Not at all. I've enjoyed your visit. I'm sure you'll be missed soon, though."

"Unfortunately. Are you attending the festival tomorrow?"

"The Festival of Color?" It was a festival celebrating the peak of summer, when certain crops were planted that would be ready for autumn and winter harvest, others were ready for harvest, and particular species of fish and other ocean-going creatures would be making their seasonal arrival. It was a day of bounty in a place where all but the most affluent had to make every grain of rice count. "My impression was that the festival is largely for the common citizens."

The nobili loudly held themselves above such 'raucous, uncouth behavior,' but the truth was that they put on old clothes and masks that did nothing whatsoever to hide their noble status and 'slummed' it around the 'peasant street fair' having just as much fun as the people they were too good to associate with openly. He and Brom had loved to sneak out to join the fun, from the time they were ten on through to one they'd attended just a month before everything went wrong.

Naoki smiled, slow and mischievous. "Everyone attends the festival; some are just more obvious about it than others. If you decide to go, see if you can find me. For now, though, I must bid you good day, Dante-don."

Dante rose to escort him out, biting back a stupid impulse to tell Naoki to leave off the honorifics. That would imply an intimacy neither of them could afford, even pretending either of them wanted it. Which they didn't. At least, Dante didn't. He refused.

Perhaps if he kept repeating the words, he would come to believe them. He had to try, because he refused to be so great a fool a second time.

As they reached the door, Naoki abruptly turned back—and reeled as he realized Dante was closer than he thought, stumbling, and spared from falling entirely only by Dante reaching out to grab him.

Unfortunately, that put them entirely too close. Naoki smelled like summer, like flowers warmed by sunshine and stirred by brisk sea air.

"Gomen," Naoki said, voice a touch breathless.

He was too close. Too tempting. Unfortunately for Dante he was, at heart, a weak-willed fool.

Naoki tasted even better than he smelled, sweet and salty all at once, underscored by the fragrant lotus wine. His lips were as soft as silk, warm and pliant, fitting entirely too well against Dante's, and his skin was softer still as Dante cupped the back of his neck to hold Naoki right where he wanted.

His mouth was an addiction as potent and dangerous as papavero.

Tearing away, Dante met the wide brown eyes staring at him in surprise and longing. Naoki licked his lips, clearly from nervousness rather than to tease, and asked, "Why do you keep doing that?"

Dante rubbed the beautiful lips with his thumb, then backed away with a ragged, frustrated noise. "To be honest, tesoro mio, I do not know. I should not."

"Because I'm married? An Ishikawa? Both?"

"Because I am a man full of secrets and lies, and you would not like the truth they mask. Go, before we do something we will both come to sorely regret."

Naoki, mercifully, went.

Dante walked sedately back to the table—then picked up the delicate glass carafe of lotus wine and threw it across the room. The sound of it shattering did nothing to ease the tumult raging through him.

Striding into his room, he changed into practice clothes, snatched up his sword and went to rid himself of unwanted emotions the only way he knew how.