Kushiel's Scion - Jacqueline Carey [156]
Lucius' expression eased. "All right," he said, shrugging. "Why not?"
We went to the same wineshop, buying meat pies along the way. Either the garum in Tiberium was better than in Ostia, or I was getting used to the taste. At the door of the wineshop, Eamonn paused.
"Imri, maybe I should look for Gilot," he said. "He's new to the city, and like to get fleeced if he tries to bargain."
"A good thought." I nodded. "My thanks."
He grinned. "Ah, well, I know where to find you!"
Lucius watched him go, cool and speculative. "Prince Barbarus has more tact than I reckoned," he observed.
"Yes," I said. "He does."
Inside, it was dim and pleasant, sheltered from the sweltering heat outside. I bought a jug of watered wine and we sat at a wooden table.
Lucius drank a cup straight off, then refilled it and met my gaze like a man girding himself for battle.
"I expect you're wondering why I looked wraith-ridden up there," he said.
"I thought you could use a drink," I said. "The rest is your choice."
"I'm afraid of ghosts." He smiled with bitter self-loathing. "I always have been. Terrified. Lemures, larvae. The angry dead. I swear, betimes I can feel their presence, even though there's naught to be seen. Stupid, isn't it?"
I shook my head and took a drink. "No."
Lucius' eyes narrowed. "I don't want your pity, D'Angeline."
"It's not pity," I said. "You're clever, Lucius. Even Eamonn says so, and he's a lot smarter than you credit him. If you're afraid, there's a reason."
He looked away. "My great-grandfather."
"Was he a cruel man?" I asked softly.
"By all repute." Lucius shrugged. "I never knew him. But he was a condottiere, one of the great ones."
"A mercenary warlord," I said.
He nodded, tracing a pattern in the condensation on the winejug with one fingertip. "We're an old Tiberian family. Hard times, you know. Gallus Tadius had a genius for warfare. He began as a sword-for-hire and ended up with his own company." Without looking at me, he smiled his twisted smile. "The Red Scourge, he called it, owing to the amount of blood they spilled. Half the city-states of Caerdicca Unitas hired him at one time or another."
I frowned. "I thought you were the heir to the Prince of Lucca."
Lucius' head jerked up. "Who told you that?"
"Eamonn," I said. "He said there was… some difficulty with your family."
"Let me guess," he said. "Buggery?" I didn't answer. "Ah, Prince Barbarus! The things that fascinate you." He ran a hand through his satyr's curls. "Yes and no, Montrève. There is difficulty, though it owes naught to buggery. And my great-grandfather, Gallus Tadius, did become the Prince of Lucca. But he was not well-loved."
I listened to the family history of Lucius Tadius da Lucca, whose great-grandfather's company, the Red Scourge, had seized the city of Lucca when its prince reneged on a contract. He married the prince's daughter and ruled with an iron fist until he died of an apoplectic fit. A generation later, his son was overthrown and the ruling Correggio family restored. The Tadeii remained, living in their shadow, vying for power with their considerable wealth.
"But"—Lucius raised one finger—"Gaetano Correggio has no heir, only a daughter."
"No heir?" I shook myself, remembering I was not in Terre d'Ange. "Ah. She's eligible to wed, then. And her husband becomes the heir to Lucca."
"You're quick, Montrève." Lucius pointed at me. "I'll grant you that." His voice softened. "She's a nice girl," he said. "Helena. That's her name. Helena, Helena Correggio da Lucca. She has a sweet nature."
I thought about Dorelei mab Breidaia. "And you're afraid to hurt her."
He looked quizzically at me. "Why would I do that?" he asked. "We've been friends since we were children. No, if I pressed for her hand, she'd accept, and there's a good chance her father would consent to it. The Tadeii have grown settled and respectable since old Gallus' day, and uniting our families would strengthen the city. But the truth of the matter is, she loves another, with all that deep, abiding passion you D'Angelines