The Mosaic

Chapter 76 | Judas' Kiss

Treason disguised as affection. Judas kissed Jesus to identify him to the temple guards of the Sanhedrin.

Trigger Warning: emotional torture/abuse at the end of this chapter (and the Reaper, but he's always around)

The blood lingered in her smile.

She had washed it off right away, she wasn't mad, even just traces of poison still lingering in Giacinto's wound were lethal. But the sharp tingle it had left in her lips let phantom warmth drip down her chin.

There were no symptoms, except Giacinto's skin cooling like a corpse right under her fingers. It had been the only way. Still, the dawning horror on Alessandro's face when he had seen her blade carve Giacinto's flesh...

Laelia splashed more water over her face. Hunched over the cracked wash-basin in the corner of their tiny room, she tried to avoid Marius' angel eyes. She knew the priest was watching her, but he stayed quiet, careful, let her grip the edge of the drawer harder and harder as she fought a silent battle against her shivering reflection in the basin.

Limp strands fell out of her braid, ripped free during their escape, or maybe her fight for Giacinto's life, the long hair framing her face like a dark halo. She was pale, but there was nothing noble about it now. Porcelain skin, her mother had said, fitting for a young, innocent little thing. Deserving of a verse in a poem by some love-struck suitor. She wanted to laugh, but choked on it.

Her skin was white like bone. She looked like death.

Perhaps she was death. Perhaps her poisons were taking Giacinto right now.

She had bolted the second he had swallowed her poisons. The hard emptiness that had led her through the fight for his life had cracked, crumbling away faster and faster, replaced by suffocating fear. She was the only thing between Giacinto and death. She had run and she had not turned back.

What was happening? All these weeks, they had solved riddles and laughed and everything had been fine. Now death hid among them, pulling them into his darkness one by one. The night at the Medici ball... Laelia could still hear Bianca's screams. Because Laelia had been stupid. Lorenzo. Moon-bright swords had come down on him like teeth in a jaw snapping close. Because Laelia had been weak. And now Giacinto. Giacinto, who laid still and cold as Alessandro slowly broke next to him. Because Laelia had been too late.

She gripped the basin harder. Perhaps if she had just been able to convince Giacinto to turn around sooner, Alessandro wouldn't have been injured yet, they could have fought together – 

"Are you alright?" Marius soft voice was right behind her.

Laelia didn't want to be alright. She didn't want his comfort either. She wanted the men that had done this to drop dead. She wanted to just wake up.

Wake up to Lorenzo's smile and Giacinto's jokes and Alessandro's stone-stiff, boring face. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. Lorenzo dead. Giacinto dying. Alessandro clinging to Giacinto's hand, his stony mask broken by raw grief.

Laelia straightened up, turning to Marius with a smile. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not," Marius said, "I will not bother you if you do not wish to talk. But I will tell you that you did your best. That is enough."

She had expected him to tell her it wasn't her fault. Laelia dropped her gaze. "No. It is not."

"It is. You're no god, Laelia. You did more than anyone else could have done. Beating yourself up for something that is beyond your power will only lead to misery. Do your best, not more."