Silence stretched, long and ugly. The gentle lift of a breeze brushed her cheek, and Victoria saw that the shadows had already begun to shorten.
“You said Lilith would release you from her thrall if you joined the Tutela.”
His laugh was short, his words bitter. “You don’t think I believed that, did you? She said it, certainly, but I didn’t really believe her. I suppose there is a hope…” He laughed again. “No, of course not. And it was mattered not, as I didn’t expect to live whether I succeeded in destroying the obelisk or not.”
They stared at each other, and Max came toward her, taking her shoulders. Her messy braid caught under his fingers, pulling tight as she looked up at him. “You’ll never forgive me for what I did to your aunt, and I’ll never forgive you for forcing me to live. Do you think I can ever forget what I did? That I could live with it?”
She pulled away, and he stepped back as though he’d been burned. Then he reached under his shredded shirt. When his hands came back out, he offered her something. His vis bulla.
“No, Max.”
“Yes. It’s done. I’m done.”
“You can’t.”
His anger was no longer banked. “Do you think I can face the Consilium after this? I cannot even think of living with myself. I killed my mentor, my teacher, my friend. Your aunt.” His eyes glistened and he looked away.
“Max.”
“You’ll have Wayren, Kritanu, and the others. Perhaps even Sebastian, if he makes it out of there alive. You don’t need someone whose loyalty will be forever questioned. For God’s sake, think of the Consilium and its future, not your emotions.
Good-bye, Victoria. Andare con Dio.”
For the second time she let him go.
Watched him walk away, into the dawn, tall, dark, and alone.
+ 28 +
A Bittersweet Gift
* * *
The next morning, a day after she’d emerged from the opera theater and watched Max walk away, a small package arrived for Victoria. Inside was a folded piece of silk and a note.
I found this after the battle was over and thought you would want to have it. Perhaps it will replace the one taken from you, for though I searched, I couldn’t find it. Have a care, for I do not know when we will meet again. —S.
Inside the silk was her aunt’s vis bulla.
+ Epilogue +
Wherein Wayren Mollifies Summa Gardella
* * *
“From the moment she stepped foot in Rome, your aunt knew she would not leave it again.”
Victoria and Wayren were sitting in the tiny parlor at her villa. Victoria had moved beyond her initial shock in the day since she’d emerged from the opera theater.
So many things had happened, and she’d managed to control the grief and anger and the overwhelming sense of being lost. Adrift and aimless.
She’d accepted the challenge of the vast, ominous responsibility ahead and was ready for it. Yes, she grieved. It seemed like only yesterday that she’d had that same hollow feeling as with the death of Phillip…but she’d managed it, just as she would manage this.
She had to. She was a Venator.
She was Summa Gardella.
“It was a prophecy from long ago, from Lady Rosamund. Eustacia knew it well, but she didn’t know exactly what it meant until it happened. ‘The golden age of the Venator will find rest at the foot of Rome’ is the accurate translation. It makes sense now, for your aunt was truly the golden Venator, Victoria, and you will follow in her footsteps.”