Chapter 25

                                    

                                          

                            

                                
                            
                              
                                  
                              
                              
                                
                                  
                                  
                                
                              
                             
                            
                            
                          
                          
                          


                          
"Hey! Don't be so sarcastic, that's unattractive," Laelia huffed.

                          
Giacinto rolled his eyes. "I'm not trying to be attractive, I'm trying to stop you from murder."
                          
"I said I wouldn't kill him." She crossed her arms, sticking her bottom lip out with a pout that must have earned her hours of cooing admiration from her mother's visitors -- when she had been around four years old.
                          
"I'm not trusting anything coming from your mother, that woman is hell in a pretty dress on bad days." Giacinto swirled the wine in the wooden cup in front of him, watching the red swirl in a tiny maelstrom. The wine glinted like fresh blood, still warm and sacred with fading life.
                          
Was this what awaited him on this journey? A maelstrom of blood, drawing him in ... the sweet, thick blood would fill his nose and mouth with its taste of iron, cloud his vision crimson and dull his hearing until he'd sink...
                          
Giacinto took one large swig, draining the entire cup. Out of sight, out of mind. It's that easy.
                          
A small hand on his shoulder brought him back to reality. "You ok?" Laelia shook him slightly, searching for answers to unasked questions in his eyes.
                          
She has really blue eyes ... blue like the sea around Greek Islands. Livelier though, like a happily splashing fountain. He blinked. "Yeah, I'm good." He turned his head away, looking at the table instead. You big fool.

                          
Laelia didn't say anything, but the way she quickly glanced at Alessandro and then back to Giacinto, mustering him worriedly, told the Greek enough.
                          
Really? Giacinto scoffed. He could care for himself. What could they do that he couldn't? Nothing. He was the better fighter. He had more experience. He doubted that stiff policeman knew what to do with cutthroats other than send them to a cell. A duelist? Those were the worst. They thought they could actually fight. None of them would last in a real fight. But he had done well this evening, battling those guards... Well, maybe he did know how to fight. But Giacinto knew how to win.
                          
And Laelia? As much as she was fierce, she was a fierce lapdog at best. Held in palaces and silken dresses, she'd never had to defend herself. Mother Contarini would strike anyone who'd threaten her.

                          
Teams. Just a bunch of people slowing him down. Normally he'd just leave them behind. But now? He couldn't let Laelia get herself killed. How was he suppopsed to keep her safe and Alessandro from endangering them all with his bloody righteousness? He had seen the officer try and safe one of the guards from bleeding to death. Not only was that guard their enemy, but it had been obvious he'd never make it. Alessandro didn't know when to give up.