Dedicated to the wonderful, supportive @Bookoholic777, who's drowned me in the sweetest comments! They're generally super amazing and hilarious! And have such good taste in tv shows!

The servant's steps counted the seconds as Alessandro waited for Giacinto.

At first, they had scurried all around the dining hall, dishes clattering as they cleaned the table. But they grew less and less frequent as Alessandro sat by the fireplace, charcoal scratching over the battered pages of his notebook, slowly shaping Laelia's smile as the girl swung her feet and watched the flames. Dark blue slowly seeped into the blazing red sky. Laelia battled the yawns, face twisting into an adorable grimace when she tried to rub the sleep from her eyes. But soon, she shot him a sheepish smile and disappeared to her chambers.

Alessandro waited, twisting the charcoal between his fingers.

Laelia reappeared in her nightgown and for a moment, Alessandro was glad Giacinto wasn't around to see them like this. Even though he had no interest in Laelia, he adored the bright girl.  And after today, Alessandro was certain Giacinto and he had made progress. They hadn't fought -- apart from their necessary bickering -- for days.  And today, they had trained together like that, like partners. He wouldn't risk that over Laelia's naive innocence, skipping around the palace in a frilly white nightgown. He had caught her 'spooking'through her room the other day, pretending she was a ghost in front of the mirror.

The girl offered him a cup. Alessandro raised his eyebrows, taking it. Warmth sept into his fingertips, little wisps of steam curling above it.

"It's milk with honey!" Laelia said. "I always have a cup before going to bed, my old nanny said it was calming!"

Did he look like he needed calming that much? He smiled up at her. "Thank you."

Her skipping steps echoed down the hallway, counting another few seconds Giacinto didn't arrive.

The milk was sweet and warm, pooling in his stomach like a tiny hearth. He dragged a hand over his face. Where was he?

A clock chimed behind him, low and sombre, marking another hour passed. Alessandro leant back, sinking into the velvet cushions with a sigh like returning into a lover's embrace. He closed his eyes. But he couldn't leave.

Giacinto had said he should wait. So he would wait.

And he had so much to ask ... the servant's whispers ghosted through his mind. Was it true? Had Giacinto really killed one man, had another hang for his crimes? Or was it an old tale, growing claws and horns as it passed from mouth to mouth?

Alessandro had seen Giacinto kill. But he had seen these dirty kids, smiling with missing teeth from ear to ear at the Greeks sight. He had seen Giacinto's dark grins and sharp blade. But he had heard his laugh, head thrown back and shoulders jumping with joy. He had seen the harshness in his eyes, green like poison, and he had seen them soften to unsure adoration whenever he stole a glance at Laelia.

Giacinto Marinos was the one puzzle Alessandro couldn't solve. He had started with no pieces at all. Now he was handed more and more, bizarre shapes that never fit together, no matter how often he turned them over. Giacinto Marinos was the one puzzle Alessandro desired to solve more than any other.

Alessandro had asked around the palace, casually weaving in the Greek in conversations with the servants.

Weird things had surfaced. A book worth of pranks the Greek liked to play on his servants. An old story of how one day they had found him sleeping in the closet, peacefully curled up among his cloaks. A grin stubbornly tugged at Alessandro's lips whenever he thought of that. Apparently Giacinto would always let his women stay the night, usually even having breakfast prepared for them (Giacinto was always long up and gone). Alessandro suspected he had changed that to hide them from Laelia. But nothing useful had turned up.

Alessandro sighed. He did spend too much time frowning over Giacinto. They were complete opposites, but he was reading too much into it.

Another man sneaked into his mind, auburn curls and cruel lips taunting him. Daniele ... There was not a night ever since the incident that Alessandro didn't spend tearing his heart apart on the search for answers. Why?  They had been glorious. They had been golden. And now they were ashes, cold and grey, whisked away in a cutting breeze.

Alessandro was certain Daniele was behind their arrest. His father was the head of the police force. Daniele had been supposed to become the inspector, not Alessandro. A twig snapped in the fire, sparks bursting up. It sounded like a bone breaking... He quickly forced another memory to take its place.

The night Giacinto and he had fought their way out... movement had caught his eye. In the split second between guards storming at him, he had looked up. Daniele had stood in a window, in the officers'mansion. He could feel the second their eyes locked. For a second, everything stilled. But then another sword came down at him and he had to rip his eyes away, sure the second scar had been nothing but a strange reflection in the window pane. Right next to the first, running from his eyebrow down his cheek.

Just a trick of light. Where would Daniele even get such a scar? Now that they no longer dueled and drank and dreamed.

Where was Giacinto? It was past midnight already, an uneasy knot settling in Alessandro's stomach.

Alessandro slowly twisted the golden ring on his index. The stoic lion head stared back at him, mane waving in the flicker of the flames. The symbol of Venice, his promise as an inspector... he couldn't get himself to take it off.

The rings reminded him of Lorenzo. The man wore just as many, if not more. Not broad and heavy ones like Alessandro, seal rings and family crests and symbols of power, but thin bands, stacked, rings worn simply because he wanted to. Alessandro liked that about Lorenzo, the man did what he felt like doing. Good, kind Lorenzo.

Lorenzo who had warned Alessandro about Daniele before he had recognized him in that tavern and then still stood up for Alessandro when Daniele had lead him away. Lorenzo who helped Laelia sneak away without asking questions. Lorenzo who flirted with everyone and yet had blushed when Alessandro had wiped the lipstick off his neck. Lorenzo who they had poisoned and left in a tavern full of drunkards.

What had he been thinking? How could he--

"Get me the damn armagnac."

So Giacinto hadn't gotten killed by any assassins out for them. Why was he that late then? He had said Alessandro should wait for him. Clearly, it wasn't that important to him. No bank meeting or whatever he had done would take that long. Alessandro turned his head, lips pulling into a frown.

Giacinto crossed the hall, a shadow soundlessly slipping in and out of the silver squares the moon painted through the long windows. Even with boots, on marble floor, there was no sound of steps. The Greek dropped onto a chair at the table, the low chime of the old clock marking the end of the witching hour. "Are you deaf?" Giacinto shot Alessandro a glare across the room, fumbling with his sleeve.

"No, but you are quite rude," Alessandro said. He got up from his armchair, rolling his stiff shoulders. How naive to think anything between them had changed. "Besides, I do think you've had enough." Giacinto had swayed when he had crossed the hall, wobbling  when he sat down. He must be drunk out of his mind.

"Good night," Alessandro said, voice tight. He turnt to leave. A sigh called him back.

"Listen, I'm sorry."

Alessandro turned back. Giacinto was looking at him strangely, his eyes reflecting the moonlight. For a moment, he looked like an eerie apparition. Then he lowered his head. "I ... ran into trouble."

"A habit of yours."

"I get you're pissed," Giacinto said, drawing his knife. His movements were strangely shaky.

"I don't think you do," Alessandro said flatly.

"Probably not," Giacinto said, putting the knife to his shoulder.

What was he doing?

"The armagnac now, please." Giacinto stabbed his shirt, cutting off the sleeve with some difficulty. He almost dropped the knife, cursing to himself. He pulled the severed sleeve down to his elbow, tugged, then stopped with a hiss.

Something wasn't right at all... Giacinto would never drop a knife -- he liked tossing his dagger up, catching it without even looking. Alessandro practically cut himself just watching. A snarky little voice added Giacinto would never say please.

Alessandro grabbed the bottle from a side table, returning to the large dining table. "Are you going to tell me what you had me stay here for?"

"Later." Giacinto snatched the bottle, pulling the cork off with his teeth.

He didn't even have a glass--

Giacinto poured the liquor over his forearm.

"What are you doing?"

Giacinto looked up from where he was fighting his sleeve. "What does it look like?"

"A strange form of undressing."

Giacinto blinked, then barked a laugh. "And you try telling me you're not interested in men."

Alessandro stiffened, heart freezing in his chest. "I am not."

"Right."

"I am not."

"Right," Giacinto rolled the r with a grin. "That waitress shoved her boobs into your face. You didn't even look down."

"Anything else would be improper," Alessandro said. He shifted his weight on his feet.

"Right," Giacinto said.

"Stop saying that."

"No--" Giacinto ripped off the sleeve. "Shit!" He ground his teeth, fist curling.

Alessandro narrowed his eyes. It was hard to see in the near dark, the silver moonlight erasing all colors, but something was smeared all over his forearm. Black, glistening -- blood.

Something cold settled in his chest.

A golden flicker sprang to live, shaping a small sphere of light in the dark all. Giacinto had lit one of the candle holders on the table. He grimaced. "Told you I ran into trouble."

A long cut split his arm from the wist almost all the way to the elbow, skin gaping open into a canyon of red. The cold was joined by heavy guilt. Giacinto had been injured and he had talked to him like that, thinking the Greek didn't care--

"Stop blaming yourself for everything, Jesus." Giacinto inspected his wound.

How was he that calm? "We need to get Laelia. She can help you." Alessandro turnt to call for a servant.

"I can help myself."

Alessandro frowned. "But you don't have to."

Giacinto blinked, then offered a tiny smile. "No. I don't want to worry her. This is more than enough for her already."

"She'll find out anyways. Do you want her to scold you again?"

Laelia could reduce the soldiers guarding her into schoolboys shuffling their feet.

They ended up calling Laelia. She buzzed around them, commanding  the servants to fetch bowls of warm water and cloth and silk and silver wire and her bag and this and that and more of that please. Giacinto endured her finger wagging with angelic patience.

Laelia sat at the table, moved his arm into position. "I need something to disinfect it--"

Giacinto poured more of the armagnac over it. He didn't even flinch when the alcohol hit the flesh. Only a slight twitch of his lip.

Laelia hit his shoulder. "Don't do that!"

"It works."

Laelia grumbled. "We need a painkiller--"

Giacinto took a large swig from the bottle.

"Giacinto!"

"It works."

"No! You take this." She held out a tiny pill.

Giacinto shot it a dubious look.

"It's just herbs!" She pressed it to his lips. "Take it!"

Alessandro felt bad for the quiet laugh escaping him. The Greek shifted in his chair, flustered, but opened his mouth.

"See? That wasn't hard!" Laelia beamed at him. "Alessandro! Sit down."

Alessandro sat.

"Good boy," Giacinto grinned.

"Giacinto!" She scolded. "Sandro, hold his arm down." She threaded the needle.

Giacinto immediately recoiled. "No."

Laelia frowned. "I know you two aren't best friends, but --"

"That's not it." Giacinto's voice was tight. His eyes kept flitting from the needle to Alessandro.

Was he scared?

"You mustn't move your arm while I sew. Sandro has to hold you still," Laelia shook her head.

Giacinto didn't even scoff at the nickname, just kept shaking his head. Normally, he'd never let it slide. He was scared. "No. I'll hold still, just ... don't."

"Silly, you can't! It's normal  to flinch, it's a reflex!"

"I won't!"

"Gio..." Laelia's eyes were soft, hand cupping his cheek. "Please, I need to close that wound. You've lost quite some blood! I have no idea how long you stubborn donkey have run around like that. And this won't heal if I don't sew it up. Please."

 Giacinto's jaw tensed, lips pressed into a flat line. His nostrils flared. He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch for a second. "Fine."

Laelia was quick, fingers expertly moving the needle from side to side. She bit her lip in concentration. Everything was quiet. Giacinto made no sound, face blank when she pierced his skin. Just his eyes clung desperately to her, as if it was the only thing keeping him from running.

Alessandro supposed he could rule out 'vampire'. Of course it was a joke he had come up with trying to explain the other's strange sleeping habits. Or why he made no sound walking. But his hand was warm under Alessandro's. He didn't need to apply any pressure, Giacinto sat frozen the entire time.

"Why are you using silver?" Giacinto's voice was tense.

"It's antibacterial! So you don't get any infection and your hand falls off!"

Giacinto paled.

Shouldn't a prince know that?

"Look at this cut! It's incredibly precise! An inch to the side and it would leave permanent damage. Look how clean it is! Apart from a scar there'll be nothing left," Laelia chirped, tying off the last stitch. "You're really lucky."

Alessandro caught the shadow flitting over Giacinto's fetaures.

"I was." The Greek cleared his throat. "But that's not important right now. I finally met with the Medici today."

Alessandro and Laelia looked at each other. The Medici -- the crest on the check Piero had described was theirs. With their help, they could find out who had paid the Reaper.

"I have a name," Giacinto said.

Laelia clutched the scissors in her hands, knuckles turning white. "And?" She pressed out.

Alessandro saw her lip trembling. He knew what she was thinking. Antonio Morosini... Within the next breath, her world might shatter.

Giacinto's jaw worked.

Alessandro knew what he was going to say before he opened his mouth.

"Morosini."

Laelia fainted.

I'm so sorry! This one ended up a bit longer ... I hope you don't mind! I considered splitting it, but this was one arc of action, soo...

We've got a name! And Laelia finally putting her medical knowledge to use, Giacinto being flustered (and just a tiny tiny bit scared), Alessandro overthinking -- and some progress with the two of them! Or is Giacinto just acting ... And the Medici finally made an appearance!

Let me know what you think! Theories? What could happen?

Also, I'm so sorry this is such a late chapter! I was on a holiday and didn't get to write much!

I love you guys, you're all such wonderful people! You always make me so exited, I appreciate your support so much!

Avis.