but his brother, Tarquin, has given me reason to believe he is,” she said, wriggling closer. “Veron, I think he might be… watching us.” “Tarquin,” he said, testing the name as his claws bit into his palms. There had been a man in the abbazia who’d stared lances through him, the same man who’d cut into Alessandra’s dance with her brother Lorenzo. “His sister Arabella disappeared, and he blames the Immortali. Before we left, there was an attack on a light-elf settlement in the night, not far from Bellanzole,” she said, wringing the gray fabric in her hand. “I don’t know whether it’s isolated or
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