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Summary
“You have a touch of melodrama in you, Altezza.”
Wind from the gathering storm whistled through the cracks and rent windows of the vacant church, the shadows long and deep from the light of the lantern on the bench at the pew. Lorenzo kept an iron hold on his instinctive fear, willing his fingers away from the silver dagger hidden under his robes. The church had been empty when he had arrived; now a man was leaning against the pulpit, long fingers folded under his chin, his smile amused, much of his aquiline face swallowed by the shadow of a white cowl.
Series
- Part 1 of A Pound of Flesh