Marco paused, narrowing his eyes down at her, seemingly seeing her for the first time. “You have nothing to fear. We will protect the city.”
She lifted her hand, cupped the smooth curve of his cheek. “You’ll protectme?”
“Yes,” he grunted, resuming his fervent exploration of her body.
“What would I do without you? I’ve been so scared,” she insisted, dropping her voice to an anguished whisper. “I haven’t even been able to go to church, but Easter is intwodays. Will it be safe to go?”
Once more, her question distracted him from the task at hand. “Of course it will be, all of Florence will attend. Now is not the time to cower in our homes. Go to the service; I will be there, the Medici will be there.”
She lifted the hem of her gown to give him better access. “Lorenzo de’ Medici will be attending church?”
“Yes, yes,” he said distractedly, his fingers fumbling at the laces of his trousers. “Him and his brother.”
“And you will keep them both safe,” she murmured, caressing both his arms as he lifted her high against him. She let out a little gasp at the hard feel of him. “You are utterly wasted in the Luni famiglia.”
Her words reached him through the haze of his lust. “I know, it’s absurd.”
“I know of others who could only dream of having you at their side,” she whispered against the shell of his ear. “Others who would appreciate your talents.”
Marco grunted as she grasped him. He was tired of talking, tired of thinking. He wrapped her legs around his waist, ankles at his lower back, and slid into her. She gasped, clutching his shoulders. Her fingernails dug into the sleeves of his tunic. He lost himself in thefeel of her, taking her quick and rough. The minutes ticked by, but he barely noticed. The banquet, the jealousy he felt for his brother, the sound of the music, it all dimmed as he pursued his pleasure.
“Say my name,” she whispered against his mouth. “Just this once.”
“Imelda,” he grunted as he found his release.
She threw her head back and pretended to find her own.
Neither of them was aware of a shadowed presence, slim and elegantly dressed, tucked out of sight, who saw and heard it all and understood what it meant.
Capitolo Ventinove
When Ravenna and Antonio were children, barely taller than the kitchen table, her brother got lost in the woods by the locanda. She joined her parents in the search, lending her voice as they called his name from morning until dusk. They poked around fox dens, climbed his favorite trees, went into caves, explored a hollow. But there was no sign of Antonio. He had vanished from the trail.
Her parents never said it out loud, but Ravenna knew they both believed him to be gone in a forever kind of way. By death, by magic, or by accident, he was lost to them. When they returned to the inn, there was Antonio, sitting at the kitchen table, munching on an apple. They had repeatedly checked the inn, their private quarters, and the vacant guest rooms thoroughly. But there he was in the first place they’d looked, exactly where he shouldn’t be.
To this day, Antonio didn’t remember where he had gone or how he had come home. That was when Mother began leaving wards against the fae on every windowsill.
Ravenna gaped at Antonio in the same way she had all those years earlier, astonished to find him where he shouldn’t be, miles from home. Her brother was in Florence, standing before her, a tremulous smile on his face.
She lifted her hand, reaching for him, taking a step toward him. “What are you doing here?”
“Ravenna,” he said, stumbling toward her. A second later he was giving her a tight hug. “I did it, I found you,” he whispered in her ear.
She pulled away far enough to look up into his face. She couldn’tget the words out fast enough. “I don’t understand, how are you here?Whyare you here?”
Antonio drew away. “What am I doing here? I’m herebecauseof you. Everyone has been worried for you, frantic.”
“How are Mamma and Papà?” Ravenna asked, gripping the ends of his cloak. “Have they been surviving without me? I’ve been so worried they wouldn’t be able to keep up with the demands of the inn.”
He brushed her comment aside. “They’re fine.”
“I can’t believe you are here,” she said in dull amazement. Blood scented the air with a metallic tang, assaulting her nose. She couldn’t make herself glance down at Signor Sforza, but looking at her brother was unnerving. It was like standing on the highest hill in Volterra, the view so big and wide in every direction, and not knowing where to look or where to go.
Antonio peered at her. “Are you all right?”
“I’m…” Ravenna let out a shaky laugh. “I don’t know how to answer that question. I can’t believe you’rehere.In Florence. I—” She broke off as the other hooded figures crept closer. She inched toward her brother. “Antonio, who are they?”
“We don’t share names,” Antonio said. “But they are like me. Servants of His Holiness.”
