I unhooked my water skin and poured the tainted liquid onto the street. I’d be filling my own water from here on. Lesson learned, Mother. Again.
My hands wobbled as I restrung my water skin. Maybe next time she’d pick something less violent. Or maybe I could convince her now that I didn’t need a next time. I could find an antidote under pressure. Even if I’d almost died this time, and would have without Val.
“That’s crazy,” Val said. “Your Family is crazy.”
“It’s not any crazier than yours. It’s her way of making me a better clipper. Also, in the future, you shouldn’t open vials with your teeth. You could accidentally poison yourself.”
He stared at me, expression unreadable behind his mask. “That’s what you got out of this? That I could have poisoned myself while saving your life?”
His bravado would’ve been worthless if he’d died. “I’m just looking out for you.”
He exhaled, the air hissing against his mask. “Fine. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
His anger rolled off him like steam, but I’d learned long ago the best way to disarm Val’s anger was to ignore it.
“Yes, actually.” I slowly shifted my seat and pulled a gold coin from another pocket. I handed it to him, my entire arm still shaking from the remnants of the poison. “Mark my kill for me, please.”
The coin had been stamped with the crest of the Saldana Family. Murder was illegal in Lovero, unless one was a member of a Family. As disciples of Safraella, pledged to Her dark work, all clippers were exempt and could accept assassination contracts.
“You know Estella doesn’t want us marking kills,” Val said.
It had always been a tradition for the Families to mark their kills. But two years ago my aunt and uncle, our Family priest, and Rafeo’s wife had died in a plague outbreak. Only by Safraella’s grace had we all not caught the contagion.
The head of Val’s Family died in the plague, too, along with other Da Vias, and afterward Estella Da Via had taken over and told the Da Vias to stop marking kills. She thought it was an antiquated way of worship and that the murder was enough.
My mother thought Estella was just a miser and wanted to keep the gold in their Family. Luckily, even though the Da Vias had the most money and members, no one wanted to see them as the first Family. The Saldanas tried to keep the entirety of the nine Families in mind when making decisions. The Da Vias cared only about themselves.
“I’m not asking you to mark your kill. I’m asking you to mark mine.” I paused to catch my breath. “For me. Surely your Family head won’t begrudge you that.”
“My aunt makes her own rules for the Family.”
“You asked if you could help. Never mind. I’ll do it.” I pushed against the wall, trying to get to my feet. My legs wobbled, and only my grip on the stonework kept me upright.
“Lea, don’t.” Val gripped my arm. I clutched his shoulders and slid my fingers down his biceps as he lowered me back to the ground. “I’ll do it. Just don’t hurt yourself.”
I nodded, and he walked to the body in the street. Val knelt over him, then opened the man’s mouth and slipped the coin onto his tongue. The coin would act as a balm and prevent the man from becoming an angry ghost, because it signaled that the person deserved a quick rebirth. Instead of wandering the dead plains, Safraella, goddess of death, murder, and resurrection, patron of Lovero, would see the offering and grant him a faster return to a new life. A better life.
Val returned to the alley. He pulled me to my feet and I remained still, making sure I’d fully regained my balance.
“You should mark your own kills.” I tested my weight on one foot. “It’s close to blasphemy that you don’t, and my father plans to bring down an order that all nine Families must mark their kills.” The Saldanas as the first Family held the most power over the nine Families. Rank was decided by wealth, numbers, territory, and other factors that contributed to status. Once the Saldanas had been more numerous and rich, but ever since the plague, Father worried the other Families would force a vote for a new first Family. If enough of the Families voted against us, we could lose our position.
“I do whatever Estella tells us to do,” Val said. “You have a choice in how you relate to your father as the head of your Family, because even if he didn’t love you, he can’t afford to lose you. I’m pretty sure Estella hates everyone except the face she sees in the mirror.”
“Still, it’s not right, Val.”
“A lot of things aren’t right since the plague, Lea. A lot of things.” He looked away from me.
Val’s parents had both succumbed to the plague. It was what had brought us together, sharing grief over our dead. After that, he’d courted me, in secret of course, because no one could know about us, that rivals were involved romantically. And I let him.