A man made of stone.
The first time she’d performed the spell, she’d done it because her heart had been broken. Because she’d been left vulnerable by a man who refused to acknowledge their child. She’d stolen his most prized possessions in fury.
She supposed it wouldn’t be the worst thing to perform another spell, but this time for a love that was impossible but true. Simonetta smiled to herself. Whoever the courier was, he’d known she would capitulate.
“Sculptress?” Simonetta called.
Ravenna turned toward her, eyes enormous in her dirty face. “Yes?”
“Bring me a Nightflame,” she said. “I will restore your love to you.”
The human’s face drained of all color, but then she gasped, and blood rushed back into her cheeks. “But—won’t your father—?”
“Undoubtedly,” Simonetta said, eyes gleaming with defiance and mischief. “But he might be more lenient this time. And besides, life was much simpler as a cat.”
“But—”
Simonetta cut her off with a raised hand. “Accept the gift, Ravenna. It is freely given.”
Ravenna took off at a dead run for the platform, her hair streaming behind her like the flames of a comet. Simonetta watched her go, smiling to herself. The night deepened, and the stars began to shimmer in the velvet sky, their light glinting like pinpricks of hope against the darkness.
Like stardust.
Saturnino dei Luni
A powerful, raw light, golden and incandescent, swam across his vision. Saturnino opened his eyes, his blood pumping, a riot in his veins. He fell to his knees with a low moan, his limbs lighter, more fragile. The scent of smoke plunged into his nose, making him gag. Dimly, he was aware of the noise surrounding him, people calling out the names of their loved ones, the sound of boots smacking against stone, the clink of armor. Scores of people cried out for water, for help.
His eyes were blurry, and he blinked rapidly until they finally sharpened to precision. Moonlight illuminated the flames devouring Santa Croce, crackling and snarling as it smothered buildings whole. Ash coated the night; he could taste fire in his mouth.
It hurt to breathe, as if his lungs were working for the first time. He sucked in air, coughing when he took in too much. His black hair fell around his face in long, heavy locks, brushing against the tops of his hands. A wave of emotions crashed over him, and he let out a soft, disbelieving laugh. He was joyous. He was incredulous. He was alive.
He felt. He felt. Hefelt.
Tears dripped down his cheeks, touching the corners of his mouth. He tasted salt on his tongue. He brought his hands to his face and he cried, embracing the way his body trembled, flooded by the overwhelming sensation of relief and joy.
And he understood now that time was precious, finite, fleeting.
A sense of urgency bloomed, spreading like fire to his lungs, to his heart.
One thought after another swam in his mind, making his headspin until each drifted off, chased away by the one thing, the one person on this earth who made his heart beat, beat, beat. He clung to her with every fiber of his being. Her courage and humanity, the bright gaze, hopeful, dreaming, curious. Her devotion, true and eternal.
“Ravenna,” he whispered.
When he was in control of his breath, his limbs, he surged to his feet, stumbling a little. But his next step was strong, and he pivoted, searching—
There.
Ravenna stood not ten paces from him, ash-covered, torn gown, tangled hair. A tremulous grin stretched her lips, arms lifting, reaching for him.
His heart, his love.
“Saturnino,” she said.
He was already moving toward her, scooping her up into his arms. “I have you,” he said against her hair. “I have you.”
“Saturnino,” Ravenna sobbed, wrapping her arms around his neck.
Saturnino brushed his hands over her face, his heart thumping hard against his ribs. She stared up at him with her unusual amber eyes, bloodshot, filled with tears. Her arms were a vise around him, as if she never wanted to let him go. “Saturnino, you’re alive. You’re here,free.”
