And then she remembered.
Imelda’s message from the pope. Ravenna quickly paid the server and left the tavern, yanking out the letter as she crossed the street, mindful of the carts and carriages ambling past. She ducked into an alley and hastily read the note.
Your management of Ravenna has left much to be desired, Imelda. Meet my courier on the 24th of April, at eight in the evening. Osteria dell’Inferno. He will have new instructions for you.
Do not keep him waiting.
It was signed by the pope. Her body buzzed with nervous energy. This was it, her chance to find Antonio. It was a slim chance, but desperation fueled her; she had to try something. Anything. Ravenna glanced up at the sky, subconsciously noting the hour. The meeting would happen later that evening; she had several hours yet. Imelda had only just received the message; it explained why her maid hadlain in wait for her, testing to see what she would do. The pope was clearly displeased, and Ravenna could only imagine what pressure he had placed Imelda under.
Her stomach coiled at the thought of willfully putting herself back into the pope’s gaze, but she didn’t really have a choice. Saturnino had saved her from one fate, but she still had to contend with the other.
Saturnino. Again, his face swam in her mind, filled her body with a tethered feeling, as if she were connected to him by a magical current. He would be furious with her if he knew of her plans. But shehadto stop thinking about him; it physically hurt her to think of him. It nearly killed her to know with absolute certainty that she’d never see him again.
They were impossible.
She shook her head as if to rid herself of the specter of his presence and set off down the street. There were practical needs she had to meet: clothing, a safe place to stay, a pair of sensible shoes.
A knife to replace the dagger she left behind.
And then, when the moon was high, she’d meet with the courier.
Ravenna ducked into the scheduled meeting place. While running her errands, she had found a serviceable dark cloak, and she wrapped it around her body as her eyes scanned the interior.
Customers sat at tables situated around the space, deep in conversation or drink, while servers waited at the other end of the room, next to a wooden bar. She found the courier tucked into a shadowy corner. His hood covered the upper portion of his face, but his eyes were still visible.
He had seen her the second she appeared through the door.
Ravenna made her way over to him, and he tracked her progress, his expression solemn. But even so, she sensed that she’d surprised him. Profoundly.
“Where’s Imelda?” he asked as she took the seat across from him.She was careful not to block his view of the entrance. He’d want a clear view over her shoulder.
“She’s dead,” Ravenna lied. It was the only way she knew how to protect her from the consequences of having gotten caught. She prayed Imelda had escaped the city by now, that she was as far away from Florence as possible.
The courier absorbed this information. “How?”
“By me.” She shifted in her chair. “It was an accident.”
The only reaction the courier gave was the slightest flattening of his mouth. He dropped two florins onto the scarred wooden table and stood.
“Where are you going?”
“My meeting was with her.”
He took a step, and Ravenna instinctively reached out, gripping his arm. His gaze dropped to her hand and then slowly lifted to meet hers. Dark brown eyes clashed with hers. The courier didn’t have to say a single word. His grim expression told her exactly how he felt. She had only a second to release him before he would do it for her. And it would not be gentle.
Ravenna ignored the warning, and said in a rush, “His Holiness won’t be pleased.”
The courier looked at her narrowly. “Take your handoffme.”
The quiet menace in his voice sent a chill down her spine. She removed her hand, and as he took another step she said the first thing she could think of. “What will happen to you now that you’ve lost both contacts in the palazzo?”
It was a wild, improbable guess.
But the courier paused, half turning toward her. “There will be others after you.”
“When does it end?” Ravenna asked. “How many more—”
“Not my problem,” he growled.
