The Echostone glowed, a sign it was ready to be used for communication.
“What is your report, courier?” the pope asked.
The orb brightened, and the man squinted as a low voice broke the quiet of the darkened room. “My informant tells me the Luni family were delivered several large crates to their palazzo earlier this year.”
His Holiness was not impressed. “And? They could be filled with any normal household things. Boxes of onions, for all we know.”
“True,” the courier said neutrally. “But my informant tells me they are kept in the dungeons, and there’s been all manner of urgent activity, strange visitors who have been toiling in secret during the night. Some have not come out of that room alive.” There was a deliberate pause. “Do you still think the Luni famiglia are hiding boxes of onions?”
The pope had a sudden, irritating sense the courier was being vaguely insulting. But then the man’s words sunk in. “What do you think they are working on? Magic? Weapons?” His breath hitched. “Could it be my missing statues?”
“Anything is possible,” came the cool reply. “But my informanthas not been able to access the room where they’ve been stored. They need more time.”
“Make it known this is our priority. I need to know what was delivered.” The pope paused. “And what of your other errand?”
There was a beat of silence. “There is still no trace of the enchantress Simonetta.”
The pope let out a furious snarl, his hands clenching into tight fists. The courier had failed him.Again. “What use are you if you can’t find one fool of a woman?”
“That is for you to determine,” the voice replied in a tone that held no emotion. “Are my services no longer required?”
The pope slashed his jewel-adorned hand in the air. He held himself in check even as the temptation to howl nearly overtook him. “When will the Luni famiglia return to Florence?”
“They are expected at any moment.”
“Go to Florence, then, and report back to me once you have useful information.”
“Understood.”
The orb glowed brighter for a moment, and then the light turned dull as it lowered into the bowl. Water reappeared once more, hiding the orb from sight. The pope carried the silver dish back to the wardrobe, tucked it into the hidden compartment, and then locked the doors. Anger seethed through him, but he forced himself to hold on to the one piece of good news.
After all this time, his statues might have been found.
A knock sounded as the candles were illuminated once more, the fire in the hearth roaring back to life. He crossed the room, his hand on the golden latch, a predatory smile stretching his thin mouth.
His mistress had arrived.
Capitolo Cinque
The carriage rattled over the large stone slabs of the ancient Roman road, moving briskly, sweeping past vineyards and olive groves. Elderflower, hazelnut, and cypress trees dotted the grassy landscape, giving way to thick clusters of woodlands. Thunder boomed overhead, a storm threatening to break over the verdant hills. It matched Ravenna’s mood perfectly; swollen clouds carrying her tears, the clap of lightning like the sound of her inner protesting.
Ravenna wiped her nose with the hem of her gown, thankful there was no one to see her splotchy face and red-rimmed eyes. Mercifully, the Luni famiglia had piled into their own transport, and it raced ahead of hers. A headache bloomed at her temples from her crying, and she pressed her cheek to the cool windowpane. Her breath came out in soft pants, fogging the glass. The magic within her fed off her clamoring emotions, her heartache. It sought release, but Ravenna breathed through the worst of it.
She would let herself wallow for another few minutes, and then she would make a plan.
Ravenna couldn’tbelievethis was happening to her.
The round walls of Volterra were her home, and she never ventured past the surrounding hills. She was a creature of habit and routines, structure and rules, and deeply loyal to her family. But she’d been plucked out of her life and thrust into a fast-moving carriage she had no control over. For the hundredth time, she wonderedwhythey had stolen her.
It must have been her use of the Nightflame.
She had given herself away, and now she was paying for it. Ravenna lifted her head, pressed a clammy hand to her other cheek. Nervous energy skittered across her skin. She inhaled deeply, fighting the rapid beat of her heart, urging it to slow down. She mustn’t give anything else away.
Especially not the magic she kept secret.
Ravenna gripped the upholstered velvet bench for dear life, her mind whirring. She stared at the door and thought of escape. If she leaped out of the carriage, would the driver notice? Most likely. She could make a run for it, but the weather wasn’t cooperating. The speed of the carriage posed a great risk; she might hurt herself when she landed, and then she’d really be stuck.
Florence was a day’s ride away from Volterra, about fourteen hours, maybe less, at the rate they were moving. Either way, the horses couldn’t make the whole journey. At some point, the driver would need to find a small village for supplies, to change the horses, and perhaps allow Ravenna to use the privy. And unless the driver wanted to travel through the night, they’d have to stop at an inn.
