Blood splattered onto the mosaic marble floor, onto her hair, her cheeks. She flung herself away, jumping to her feet. The crowd swelled around her, people taking up the call to defend Lorenzo. They were yelling his name, an offering at the altar for his life to be spared.
He was a saint among sinners.
Ravenna stumbled against one of the massive pillars as a rough hand gripped her hair, tilting her head back.
“This one!” the man screamed in her ear. “Conspirator!”
She yelled out and shoved at the man with her elbow. His grip loosened and she spun, aiming a kick at his groin. He bent at the hip, howling. Ravenna darted away from him, slipping on the marble floor, slick with blood. Her magic awoke within her, demanding to be let out. She panicked, resisting its harsh demand. There were peopleeverywhere—if they saw her magic, would it confirm her treachery? Would they burn her at the stake?
Please, please, stay back, Ravenna prayed.
Her magic hissed in reply, but stayed put.
But now she was surrounded, people raising their arms to block her from leaving. She was trapped. Dimly, she heard more people discovering conspirators. Friends and neighbors turned on one another, damning them to hell. Steel glinted in the candlelight as several fights erupted around her.
The men advanced on her, too many to count. They tore at her cloak, grabbed her by the arms, and pulled in opposite directions. She was going to die, split open by a nightmare while the statue of the Virgin Mary gazed down at her.
“Ravenna!”
The enraged bellow cut through the noise swirling around her. She knew that voice; she would recognize it across oceans, across time itself. Her heart blazed, thumping wildly against her ribs. Her head whipped in Saturnino’s direction as he leaped over a church pew, clearing it by several feet. He ruthlessly shoved whoever was in his path out of the way, his lips shaping her name.
Her attackers crowded around her; one of them spat in her face.
Saturnino came for her in a blur of movement, his knives flashing. He was a god incarnate, unleashing an unholy terror to save her. Guards swamped him, but he was merciless, violent. He used his fists, he used his teeth, and he kicked, striking jaws and breaking fingers. Bodies fell around him, throats slashed. Saturnino spun toward her, snaked his arm around her waist.
“There’s a side door—Fuck!” Saturnino snarled.
He pushed Ravenna behind him as Marco rushed forward, sword drawn. It took mere seconds for Saturnino to withdraw his own as people around them ran for cover, screaming for loved ones. A metallic crash rang in Ravenna’s ears as their weapons met. Saturnino parried his brother’s blows, keeping her behind him, shielding her from Marco’s enraged attack.
“Behind the pillar,” Saturnino said. She ducked behind it, Saturnino following her as Marco continued his offense. As he pushed them back Ravenna took hold of a brass candle holder and swung it at his head; Marco barely dodged out of the way in time.
“For fuck’s sake, Ravenna,” Saturnino snapped. “I don’t need your help.”
Saturnino took hold of her hand and led her behind an overturned pew. He shoved her down to her knees.
“Stay down, tesoro,” he hissed.
Marco leaped forward, and their swords locked together. Saturnino gritted his teeth, fine lines fanning outward from his clenched eyes. He pushed forward, driving his brother backward.
“Enough, Marco!” Saturnino roared. “You fool! She isn’t a conspirator!”
A hazy blue bloomed across Marco’s cheeks, the bridge of his nose. “She dies anyway.”
Ravenna crouched on a tuffet, the echoing sounds of clashing metal reverberating around her. Sweat dripped down her spine as she searched for anything that might help Saturnino. She gripped a thick prayer book and threw it at Marco. It bounced off his arm and he snarled at her, teeth gleaming.
Saturnino flung himself forward while his brother was distracted, forcing Marco back into a narrow space between two rows of pews. Saturnino spun his sword, a neat move that left the pommel of his weapon facing outward. He lunged and stuck Marco against his temple. His brother slumped sideways over the pew railing, unconscious.
Then Saturnino whirled, sprinting toward Ravenna and scooping her up into his arms. “We have to go.”
She struggled against him. “My brother—”
“He’s gone, Ravenna,” Saturnino said, lips moving against her forehead.
She pushed at him with all her strength and he released her, startled. She spun away from him, racing down the aisle toward the entrance of the church. He bellowed her name; his footsteps thundered behind her.
In seconds, she reached the doors but stopped at the sight before her.
The heavy doors stood open, and blood smeared the marble steps leading down to the piazza.
