Page 32 of A Mastery of Crows

And those walls of hers feel higher than ever.

“If you walk into this fight,” I push the words out around the fear that holds my heart in a vice grip, “thinking that you will not walk back out, then you won’t come home, Cat. I need you to believe that you canwin.”

She takes a breath. Her hands clench on the wooden table. “That’s not true. I don’t think that.”

She’s not convincing anyone. Least of all me.

“Then why are you keeping away from her?” My heart twists, shreds inside my chest. “Everything you have given, and bartered, and sacrificed – all to keep her safe, to get to this point. And now she is here, and we will never getthistime again. There will be more days – but these first, precious days will begone, Cat. Don’t waste them.Please.”

My breath locks inside my chest as I stare at her. “When will you stop believing that your life is worth the least?”

I have no intention of letting her die in this battle. And Matteo Corvo will not leave it alive. I can feel it, like a knowing in my chest.

He will not live for what he has done to them. Even if it takes my own life to see it through.

“When we walk out there,” I say finally. Heavily. “These are the days I will hold close,tentazione. A reminder of what we are fighting for.”

I stand. I need some fucking air.

Cat is still in her chair, her face ashen as I move past her, stopping.

“You let the bad memories take over, we’ve already lost.”

14 – Caterina

Silence.

My hands are still gripping the table. I force myself to release them, to look up.

Stefano meets my eyes, his own soft. There’s too much understanding there, so I look down. Alessia looks unfazed by our harsh words, still picking at strawberries as Stefan cradles her.

I hate him. Hate him for being so fucking unsufferable, overbearing… andright.

Nobody stops me as I shove my chair back and walk out.

When will you stop believing that your life is worth the least?

Instead of going outside, I make my way upstairs, pausing outside a door.

I don’t knock. But I gently open it, and step inside.

Iliana Asante turns her head toward me. She doesn’t say anything as I lean back against the door. “Buongiorno, signora.”

When nothing happens, I pad further into the room. A chair has been set up next to the window, the curtains open and blowing gently in the breeze. Iliana turns her face back to it, her eyes closing.

Slowly, I settle down onto the floor next to her. We sit in silence for long minutes, peaceful silence. There are no expectations here. And the weight in my chest, the heaviness caused by Dante’s words, begins to lessen.

“I don’t know what to do,” I say into the quiet room. Iliana says nothing, her eyes still closed.

I cannot lose them.

I cannot lose anyone else.

And Dante – he was right, but he was wrong, too.

I don’t want to die. Don’t intend to. I will fight with every last breath left in my body to come home to them.

But if the choice is between me or them, then there will be no choice at all.