Ravenna dried her eyes and straightened in her seat.
She would make her move then.
They arrived in Castelfiorentino at nightfall. Ravenna peered out the window as the carriage stopped in front of an inn with a sloping tiled roof. Flickering lanterns illuminated the intricately carved wooden door reinforced with iron bands and a sturdy latch. Shutters flanked the small windows, closed for the night. There were no other patrons in sight, only a couple of stray dogs sniffing along the cobblestone path.
A burly guard approached her door and opened the window, saying, “You’ll join the family for dinner inside.”
Ravenna indicated to the closed shutters. “The owners are asleep.”
“They are awake and already serving the Luni family.”
Naturally,she thought. “Why have they taken me?” she demanded.
The guard regarded her with a stony expression, unyielding and stern. “My orders are to bring you inside. Beyond that, I don’t have answers for you.” He opened the door and indicated for her to climb out.
This man would not be persuaded by a soft smile or moved by tears. But she wouldn’t come before the family without more information, whatever she could learn. Ravenna shifted tactics. “Will we be spending the night?”
“Stop stalling and get out of the carriage,” he barked.
Ravenna stiffened, but she stepped down, her attention moving swiftly to the other carriage. Stable hands attended the horses while servants carted trunks up the front path. Her pulse quickened. So theywerespending the night. Marvelous. Between then and the next morning, there would be ample opportunity to slip away. She would make sure of it.
But first—dinner with her kidnappers.
Ravenna gritted her teeth and followed the guard into the inn.
She was greeted by warm, earth-toned walls with geometric patterns inspired by Moorish design. The furniture was a blend of low wooden tables and cushioned seating, the walls were covered by woven tapestries and on the floor, plush rugs stretched in every direction. Bronze lamps with intricately patterned covers cast a warm, dappled light across the room. It was all very cozy, and Ravenna felt a pang of homesickness.
A tall, middle-aged man in a long, loose-fitting tunic with a calm demeanor beckoned Ravenna forward to the front desk. His olive-toned skin and trimmed beard complemented his kind brown eyes. Those same eyes flicked to the two guards flanking her, and his lips pursed slightly.
“Buonasera,” he said. “I am Ibrahim. I understand you’re with the Luni party?”
Ravenna opened her mouth, but the two guards spoke for her.
“She is,” the first said.
“We were about to shut our doors for the night,” Ibrahim said. “My wife and daughter are helping them settle into their accommodations upstairs. The kitchen is busy preparing a meal for you all, it should only be a quarter of an hour or so. You’ll have the dining room to yourselves. All our other guests have retired for the evening.” He cleared his throat pointedly and looked at Ravenna. “Will you be needing separate accommodations?”
“She will,” said the other.
The innkeeper paused but kept his attention on Ravenna. “We have a room for you,” Ibrahim said. “My daughter will return shortly and show you to your room, and I’ll have your trunk brought up—”
“I have nothing,” Ravenna said, her eyes widening slightly.
Ibrahim paused, dark brows drawn.
She opened her mouth again, but one of the guards took hold of her arm and held on tightly. His fingers dug into her in warning. Her gaze dropped to the sword strapped to his side. He was a burly man, with a pronounced scar splitting his cheek. If she made a scene, would they hurt the family who owned the inn?
“Signorina?” Ibrahim asked gently.
“You have a lovely establishment,” Ravenna said. “My family also has a locanda in Volterra, though not as grand as this.”
He beamed at her. “Grazie, we’ve been very fortunate. We see many travelers thanks to the Via Francigena trade route.” A young woman wearing a silk headscarf approached the front desk. Gold earrings glittered in her ears, and a wide leather belt cinched her waist, accentuating the lush flow of her dress. Ibrahim turned toward her with an expectant air. “Has everyone settled in their rooms? Yes? Good. Amina, will you show our last guest to her room?”
“Follow me,” Amina said with a quick smile.
Ravenna followed Amina up the gracefully curved staircase, her hand gliding against the carved wooden banister. Both guards were at her heels, their heavy footsteps oppressive. The innkeeper’sdaughter glanced back at them, curiosity glimmering in her dark eyes. Ravenna didn’t blame her.
How would she have handled such a situation?
