“Oh my God,” she sobbed out, but it was controlled, almost automatic, like she had been holding in the plea. “What’s happening? Nazzareno! What’s happening?”
I kept my eyes on my uncle, but I knew it was out of his control.
She grasped my arms, and even the small individual scalding-hot fires of her nails against open wounds could not touch the cold fire that had seized my heart.
“You intervened,” I said.
“I did!” She rushed out. She turned around and shouted, “I’d do it again! Do you all hear ME?! I would do it AGAIN! DO. YOU. HEAR. ME? I’d do it again! That man, RENATO FAUSTI, who doesn’t even know me, tried to take awayMYLOVE! A WOMAN HAS THE RIGHT TO FIGHT FOR HER FATE TOO!”
She spun around to face me.
“Let Luca Fausti hear me,” she cried loud enough that he could. “Let him hear the growls from a woman’s heart. It’s a lot better than hearing the sobs from her soul if her love is taken away!”
“My uncle can no longer intervene,” I said, my eyes scanning the crowd before they landed back on hers.
“What?” she barely got out. “Didn’t he call theludi?”
“Not yet,” I whispered. “We were supposed to stand together and face him first.”
A man from a faction of the family who played music at the games walked out onto the field carrying a cornum and started to play when he was in the center of it. It was reminiscent of Ancient Rome, and the sound was ominous. The Cornu cried.
Five roses came flying down toward us, hitting the ground in quick successions. Brando, Rocco, Dario, Romeo, and Beni had all stood, releasing them.
“What’s going on?” Her voice was panicked. “Tell me what’s going on, Nazzareno!”
“The crowd,” I said. “It has become the judge of our fate.”
Another rose spiraled down from above.
“The roses,” she barely got out. “That’s how they give their input?”
“They are voting. My performance during theludiand your impassioned speech to Luca about our love. These are what they are judging us on.”
“What—” She made a choked sound before she cleared her throat. “What happens if we only get these roses?”
“We lose. It is not enough.”
“Even after you’ve already won?”
I took her in my arms and kept her at my side, my eyes on the crowd. She stared at me and then squared her shoulders, holding on to me as tightly as I was holding on to her, but her eyes were softer, somehow pleading, even though out of the two of us, she was the more powerful one.
We both looked up as another rose flew down, this one blocked out by the glare of the fading sun, as it landed by the rest.
She set her hand over my arm, where a wound bled freely, trying to staunch it. “I’m scared,” she whispered when it had been a few seconds of nothing.
“You are next to me,” I said. “I have you in arms. We are together.”
“I’ll never let go of you,” she whispered.
We looked at each other, and our eyes connected. I touched the palla covering her hair, and then leaned in close and kissed her.
It had nothing to do with the roses.
It had everything to do with needing to be near her. No matter how twisted the evening became, I had earned her love regardless. She whispered to me all the places she wanted to go after we started to fly together, and I told her I was going to take her home first, to entangle our roots together.
A rose hit us, and we barely moved.
Then sounds like the patter of rain started to fall down around us, and when we turned together, the crowd was getting to its feet, tossing roses down.
