Page 55 of Iron Crown

“You think you deserve one?” I asked, even though I knew that I would grant it.

“No, but I will ask for one, all the same.”

“You may ask, but I may not grant it.”

He took that into consideration, taking a sip of the wine again.

Then he nodded. “I know that the war and blood between your people and mine will not resolve in a day, or even in this little cell.” He looked around, almost laughing at his pathetic surroundings. “But if there ever comes a time where you could bestow a little kindness and mercy on Cosima Durante during this war we have all anticipated… I ask that you do it.”

“Your final wish is to ask me to be nice to Cosima Durante?” I asked, chewing on those words. “You’ve already asked me to spare her. Kindness… that’s a different thing. Have you heard the venom in her voice?”

Morelli laughed. “Ah! I see you have spoken to her recently. Her tongue lashings are acerbic, are they not?”

He let out a small sigh, smiling as if her hostility was another thing he was fond of.

Maybe he was. To truly love someone is to love them for everything—even their sharp tongues and dangerous tempers.

“Please be more than nice to my Cosima,” he said. “Bemerciful.”

He placed the glass, still half full, onto the desk, laying his palm flat against the warm wood.

“Do not let her fall to the same fate as your mother.” His eyes darkened from silver-white to the darker gray that they had been when I first took him.

My heart stopped for a beat.

“I will try to treat her as I would wish an enemy would treat my wife.” I placed my glass into the space between us, tipping it to him for a toast.

He picked up his, and we clinked them together. He drank. I pretended to drink.

“To Kira Kekoa, and Cosima Durante,” Morelli said.

“To KiraGreen,” I corrected. “And Cosima Durante.”

“Hmm,” he said with a slight chuckle. “I suppose it is my regret that Cosima could not be my bride. I waited too long, it seems. I wanted time to depose Eugenio. But now it’s too late.”

“Aye,” I said. “But Eugenio will fall, no matter what.”

“Will Cosima fall with him?” he wondered, sadly. “I am sad to not be able to pick up my sword and defend her as I should. As a reallovershould.”

He shook his head again, and his shoulders slumped, his face growing pale as it had been a few minutes ago.

“I think you’ve done more than most for her,” I said, putting the glass down, having grown tired of the farce. “You could not have done more even if you were by her side, weapon in hand.”

The Mafia would fall. I would make it so. And I would spare her as well, if only because I would not be able to stand the guilt of letting down an old friend.

Then a question popped into my mind, one that tasted of old resentments. Maybe it was not the time to ask such a thing, but I needed to ask it all the same, for my own sake. For Kira’s.

“I’m curious, friend,” I said, as we were halfway down the bottle. “If you loved Cosima as you say, then why would you have joined your nephew in the exploitation of my wife?”

Had I not known that the debtor who exploited my wife was his nephew, and that he would have joined in on those vile activities, I would have let him die years ago.

I had made him bleed for me. Made him bleed for my art. I bled him still, to make paint for the masterpieces I kept on creating, like sweet traps to ensnare Kira back home.

“Because…” Morelli let out a sigh. “Eugenio wanted a spy in your camp. He used his daughter as… as inducement.”

His nostrils flared in anger, his frown deepened.

“Betrothed her to some Irish soldier scum, and forced her to… to…”

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