Page 30 of A Hunter for Luna

"Be careful," she said, her voice barely audible. "Don’t do anything that might get you hurt."

Sofia stepped forward, holding out a small vial of perfume. "Lavender and jasmine. For luck and for courage."

I dabbed a bit of the perfume behind my ears, inhaling deeply. The scent was calming, grounding me in the moment.

"Thank you," I said. "Both of you. You’ve helped so much."

Rose's hand found mine, her fingers intertwining with my own.

Sofia asked, "Are you sure about this?"

I clenched the fabric of my emerald gown. "I don't have a choice, Sofia. This is what needs to be done."

Her expression softened, a mixture of understanding and worry. "Then may the absent gods keep you."

I swallowed the lump in my throat.The absent gods. Hidden or dead, their powers lost to time. What good are they to me now?

Sofia meant well.

I stood, the emerald gown whispering against my skin as I moved. The mask felt heavy on my face, a reminder of the role I had to play tonight.

Benedetto would find out he’d underestimated me.

I turned to Sofia, my resolve hardening like steel. "I will not fail. I cannot."

She smiled then, a fierce pride shining in her eyes. "Of course not. Show that fool what he’s missed."

With those words ringing in my ears, I stepped out of the room, ready to face whatever the night had in store.

CHAPTER NINE

BENEDETTO

I steppedout of the carriage and surveyed the Tulliano Lucardi's mansion, a gilded monument to bad taste. It hulked above its gardens, looking simultaneously ostentatious and slightly embarrassed, as if the building itself knew it didn’t fit well in Legnali. The sprawling grounds to the sides and behind the building were a labyrinth of shrubs and marble decorations, every ostentatious feature a testament to the man's wealth and desire for acceptance.

While I’d never been here myself, I’d heard all the gossip as I gathered information on my target.

Lucardi’s father was a grain merchant, with a sideline in spices. He’d been lost with one of his ships when Lucardi was a boy, spurring the youth’s interest in the supernatural. Apparently, he wanted to communicate with the dead.

While he had no gift for magic, his ability to guess what to send where made him tremendous amounts of money, catapulting him to the upper echelons, who promptly turned their backs and ignored him.

Except when they wanted an investment or a loan, of course. He’d even been offered daughters of a few minor clans, but he had his eyes set high. He wanted his children born to the upper classes. Not a foolish ambition, though most of the great houses denied him on principle.

The information I’d gathered about him made me reluctant to kill him, my usual means of dealing with those who dabbled in forbidden magic. I’d simply take the books and walk away.

The pebbled walkway leading to the house glittered in the torchlight. I stooped and picked up a stone. A small amethyst. Lucardi must have ordered small gems scattered in with the regular stone.

I didn't envy the servant whose duty would be to retrieve them at the end of the night.

The flickering light made the intricate carvings adorned the mansion's exterior almost come alive. They depicted the story of the first emperor’s conquest of Kalion. By the main doors, a blaze of golden lanterns hung from delicate chains, their bright light a beacon.

The noise of laughter and conversation drifted out the door, mixing with the scent of wax and perfumes. The masked servant manning the door bowed to me as I approached.

I adjusted my silver-filigree mask. Time to do the required frivolous conversation and perhaps a dance before I got on with my task.

As I entered the grand ballroom, my senses were assaulted by dazzling excess. Crystal chandeliers hung from vaulted ceilings, their facets scattering light from miniature magical suns hung within them. The light was brighter than day in this room.

Near the wall, one musician turned his head, exposing the sweep of a pointed ear. Lucardi had hired fey to provide the music. This event that would be remembered; the man must have traded many favors for such a rare event. The fey did not often favor mortals with their music.

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