“I’ll forgive Giuliano everything,” Signor Luni remarked. “He broughtherwith him. People will expect to hear an engagement any day now.”
Signor Medici shook his head. “They are close friends, nothing more.”
“She is extraordinarily lovely,” Signora Luni commentated. “Naturally, Botticelli selected her as his latest muse.”
Marco suddenly appeared next to the group with a sullen line to his mouth. “Isn’t it time we all sat down to eat?” he demanded. “And before you protest too loudly at my bluntness, Mother, the otherguests are circling the banquet table and about to become feral.” He raised his brows expectantly. “Can we eat?”
Signora Luni made an exasperated sound under her breath. “Not yet, Marco. The musicians are set to play music for dancing. But it is time for everyone to at least know where they are sitting down for the meal.” She turned to Signor Medici and his wife, and Signor Sforza, and snapped her fingers to someone who waited nearby. “My steward will help you find your seats.”
Tomasso drew close to Signora Luni’s side as if he’d been waiting for such a moment. He directed them toward the long dining tables, indicating where they ought to sit. Ravenna approached her bozzetto, moving down the table for a better view. It felt like a century had passed since she’d stood in her studio, bringing the lord of the underworld to life. Guests stared at the eternal flame flickering within the crimson gemstone, then they looked to her, the girl in a forest-green gown, the girl who had won the competition and the favor of the powerful immortal family.
“Ravenna, wasn’t it?” came a voice from behind her.
She turned to find Leonardo standing next to her, his shoulder a brush away from hers. “Buonasera,” she said warmly. “And yes, it is.”
He inclined his head. “It’s nice to see you again, signorina.” He extended a hand to her Pluto. “Your work is lovely.”
A blush stole over her cheeks. “Grazie. Are you enjoying the evening?”
He lifted a shoulder, his intelligent gaze moving through the crowd. “An unusual party.”
She peered at him, curious. “How so?”
“No one says what they mean at these sorts of gatherings,” he said.
Ravenna followed his line of sight, her attention flickering from one group to another. He was right. Tension settled over the guests as if they were all collectively holding their breath, waiting for doom. It was an odd feeling, heightened by the lavish comforts displayed around them, the swell of music, the sparkle of magic glittering in the air.
“Why, do you suppose?”
Leonardo’s gaze swerved to hers. “The city waits for an attack from Rome.”
“You believe it’s imminent?”
“Only a matter of time,” he said gently. “I’m surprised to find you here in Florence still. Wouldn’t it be safer to complete your work back home in Volterra?”
She twisted her lips wryly. “Unless Signor Medici kept his word, Volterra is unlikely to welcome me back.” She pointed to the Nightflame embedded into her statue. “Thanks to this.”
Leonardo let out a sound of surprise. “But Signor Medici has kept his word. His army left Volterra days ago. You hadn’t heard?”
Ravenna gaped at him. “He told me he would consider my request, but no one told me that he…” Her mind grappled with the unexpected news. “I can’t believe heactuallyagreed.”
Leonardo smiled slightly. “You have your admirer to thank, signorina.”
“My admirer?” she echoed. “Who?”
He pointed to someone behind her. “It was he who told Signor Medici to accept your demand. I’ll never forget it. He was very adamant.”
It couldn’t be. Itcouldn’t.Ravenna slowly turned around, alarmed by the sudden spike in her pulse, beating hard against her throat. Despite the cool breeze sweeping in from the garden, the hall felt like an oven to her, and a deep flush warmed her cheeks.
She found the man Leonardo pointed to deep in conversation with Signor Galeazzo Sforza. He must have sensed her stare because he half turned, his hand flexing slightly. His green gaze locked with hers.
Saturnino dei Luni.
The room blurred, the only thing in sharp focus was the immortal knight. He raised a brow at her, and she couldn’t keep the answering smile from pulling the corners of her lips. Saturnino crossed the room, elegantly maneuvering through the crowd, ignoring guests who openly stared at him. He stopped in front of her and held out his hand. “Dance with me.”
Capitolo Ventisei
Ravenna stared at his palm for a moment before lifting her gaze past his shoulder to where couples were arranging themselves across the dance floor. A wrought iron chandelier hung above the space, casting a warm, golden glow on the sumptuously dressed. Ravenna didn’t know the steps to many dances, and the ones she did know were, she had no doubt, far too provincial. It was an art form she had never mastered. On no account did she want to embarrass herself in front of the upper echelons of Florentine society.
