A rat stared back at her and then fled back into the dark.
With a huff of annoyance, Simonetta lowered her arm. She walked farther into the room, the flame slowly returning to its normal size. It was only a matter of time before His Holiness noticed she was gone from his bed, but she wouldn’t leave Rome without planning her revenge. She needed to hurt him, to steal something from him in the same way he was stealing their son’s birthright. What she wanted was a Vatican treasure that would safeguard the baby’s future.
She would do anything for her child. She would do anything to protect his legacy.
When he was born, she searched for any sign that he’d inherited her magic. Sons born of witches rarely did, she knew that. But it didn’t stop her from hoping. There was always a slim chance that he might be one of the lucky few who would. But in the weeks following his birth, there was no sign of magic. No sign that he’d become a wizard in his own right.
Though he’d enjoy a longer life, his talents were utterly human.
And her lover would leave himdefenseless.
She wouldn’t allow that. Her attention flickered from one artifact to another—pieces of priceless papal jewelry numbering in the hundreds, diamonds, pearls, other precious gemstones, and several paintings created by the masters.
Simonetta slowed, coming to a stop in front of a set of five statues that had been carved centuries earlier by the fae sculptor Praxiteles. Celestial stone. Tears of heaven. Her lover favored these priceless creations above everything else. Simonetta slowly walked around them, transfixed by the exquisite detail carved into the stone. The trail of her silk dress dragged behind her, but she hardly noticed. She ran a finger over sinewy muscle, the curve of a woman’s softly rounded shoulder, the bow of a perfect mouth; the marble was cool beneath her touch.
She finished the circle, and once again came to stand in front of the set, her head tilted as she stared up at them, her mind whirring with one idea after another. At last, a plan crystallized in her mind.
A way to punish her lover for what he was doing to their son.
It was a bold and risky move, and if the pope should ever find out what she’d done, her life was forfeit, along with that of the little one she had birthed. To say nothing of her father’s wrath for meddling in human affairs, for stealing five pietra magiche from his own lands, an essential component of her plan.
A moment’s doubt accelerated her heart rate. Simonetta bit her lip, considering. If she succeeded, the humiliation she would bring upon her father would be severe. But then she recalled the pope’s many promises whispered against her ear as he used her body, the long years spent in his shadow, a secret soiled by sanctimonious gossip.
And the most damning truth of all: the callous attitude he had displayed when he learned of the child they had made together. Her doubt disappeared. She made her decision, binding her fate.
Simonetta would steal the statues and transport them to her father’s dwelling, the enchanted forest, where her magic was stronger.
Once there, she would cast her spell.
Simonetta grinned to herself, wishing she could see the look on her lover’s face when he realized what she had done to him. But this was his fault, he had ruined everything between them. These statues belonged to her son now. They were his inheritance. His birthright. A way to safeguard his life.
A way to protect her witch mother’s name. “Medici,” she whispered, and then blew out the candle.
Epilogo
ONE YEAR LATER, 1479
Ravenna nibbled on a biscotto di Prato as she stared at the Luni famiglia. It was her favorite almond biscuit, and she craved them at all hours. She was always hungry these days, she thought with a rueful smile. She took another bite, stepping close to Fortuna, her expression locked in an eternal grimace. A familiar feeling of sympathy tugged at her heart.
It was a fate she wouldn’t wish on anyone.
It had become a routine of hers to go out into the palazzo garden in the early morning before she began her work in the studio. She sorted through the demands of the day. One commission to finish, another to prep. Her family, and Maria with her young son, Francesco, were arriving in a couple of days; she’d speak to Tomasso about preparing their rooms. The twins would have to be separated, according to Mamma’s previous letter. They were at an age when everything irritated them, and for everyone’s peace of mind, it was best to keep them from brawling. For Tereza, she’d selected her favorite guest room, a chamber filled with sunlight and pink brocade.
It used to belong to Fortuna.
Ravenna eyed the statue critically, noting areas that needed refurbishment. “I’ll take care of it tomorrow,” she promised Fortuna.
Movement at the edge of the garden caught her eye. Her husband leaned against a marble pillar, his arms folded across his leather doublet,gaze soft and intent on hers. A small smile tugged at his mouth as he watched her take another nibble of the biscuit. He made his way over, walking until he stood behind her, arms coming around Ravenna’s middle to pull her snug against him.
“Do you think they can hear us?” Saturnino murmured.
“No,” she said ruefully. “But I can’t seem to shake the habit.”
“I like them better this way.” He drifted his hand lower, palm covering the curve of her belly, gently rounded. The baby leaped in her womb, and she smiled. Saturnino dipped his head lower to press his temple against hers. “How are you feeling?”
“Hungry,” she said, finishing the last of the biscuit.
Saturnino pulled out another from his doublet. Ravenna chuckled and took it from him. “Why do you always have food on your person?”
