Killing is a skill like any other. Cesare’s words whispered in my ear. It should be practiced until it comes easily.

“On the other hand,” Cesare Borgia said serenely, studying the chessboard, “perhaps my dagger was stolen by some enemy of my father’s, and used to stir up ill feeling against me. Cardinal della Rovere would have sacrificed a whore’s life in an eyeblink, if it would have kept me from getting my red hat.”

“That does seem more likely,” I agreed. It was more likely, so why was I sweating in this cool stone room?

“And either way, why should anyone care?” Cesare shrugged. “They were only whores.”

“Only whores,” I echoed. “What, indeed, does it matter?”

Cesare Borgia’s black eyes found mine over the chessboard. I smiled back. “You aren’t paying attention, little lion man,” he said, and gave a wave of his elegant hand over the board. “I believe the win is mine in six moves.”

“So it is.” I tipped my king with a flick of the finger. “Another game, Your Eminence? And perhaps you will tell me your news from the French and Spanish ambassadors . . .”

We talked lightly, our voices even as I reset the board. Threats from France; apparently their king had threatened invasion to press his claim to Naples. “And from Spain more serious news—Juan has arrived in Barcelona and has already managed to offend everyone. Roaming about the city whoring and fighting and killing stray dogs. I imagine our Holy Father will write Juan an angry letter.”

“Indeed.”

I won the second game. Cesare Borgia rose, stretching lightly like a long-bodied cat. “You fight a good game of chess, Messer Leonello. You play like a Roman—encircling defenses and sudden piercing attacks from the rear guard.”

“You play like a Spaniard, Your Eminence. No retreat, not ever.”

He smiled. I smiled.

“It seems La Bella will not release my father from her clutches until nightfall,” he observed. “How has she not killed him yet?”

The new Cardinal Borgia sauntered out without a further word. The black half mask swung easily from one hand.

I took the ebony-carved bishop from the chessboard, balancing it in my palm. And wondered, with that focused hunter’s thrill I’d first felt in chasing down Anna’s killers, if I had found my third killer after all.

The one in the mask.

Chapter Eleven

CHAPTER ELEVEN

From a tiny spark may burst a mighty flame.

—DANTE

Giulia

See?” I pressed my back against Lucrezia’s, reaching up to level my hand over our heads. “You’re taller than me. You’ve grown since the wedding.”

“Really?” Lucrezia’s narrow little face brightened as she looked down at herself. “I thought my dresses seemed shorter—”