He kicked the guard’s booted foot and the man lurched to his feet, pale eyes blinking rapidly as he took in the situation. His gaze swung to Ravenna, and realization dawned on him one sickening beat at a time. His shoulders tightened, and he visibly braced himself before shifting to meet Saturnino’s judgment. The poor man seemed to shrink at Saturnino’s scathing and brutal expression, and Ravenna had to squelch the wild impulse to tell the guard to run as fast and as far as he could go into the surrounding hills.
“Where’s the other guard?”
“I don’t know,” the guard said. “The privy, I would assume.”
“You arecaptain,” Saturnino said in a voice that could have cut through bone. “And you set the example for the rest of the retinue.”
A line of sweat beaded the guard’s hairline. “I don’t know what I was thinking, or what happened.”
“You don’t know,” Saturnino said in that same awful voice. “You failed at your job, that’s what happened.”
The guard’s hand dropped reflexively to the hilt of his sword, sensing the palpable tension steeping the air between them. He swallowed hard; his face bloodless. He had been rude and awful to her earlier, but Ravenna couldn’t help but think of a cornered animal awaiting his master’s punishment.
“It won’t happen again,” the guard said. His eyes turned pleading, and Ravenna furrowed her brow, not understanding why the man seemed terrified for his life—
“You’re right, it won’t.” Saturnino moved in a blur, and a dagger flashed in his pale fist. The blade glinted gold and silver from theflickering oil lamps in the hallway. He swiped at the guard, one brutal strike near his ribs. The blade sunk into flesh, hilt deep.
The guard slumped against the wall, colliding with the chair; it toppled onto its side with a loud clatter. His hands clutched Saturnino’s immovable hold on the weapon. “No,please—”
Saturnino twisted the knife.
The man groaned, clenching his eyes. Saturnino yanked out the dagger, blood gushed out of the wound, and the guard tried to stop the incessant flow, but it seeped through his fingers. Eventually, his grip loosened and then went slack.
He didn’t open his eyes again.
It was over and done within a matter of seconds.
Ravenna pressed her hands against her cheeks, her head swimming as the scent of metal assaulted her nose. Saturnino bent forward and used the man’s tunic to wipe the blade clean, first one side and then the other. He straightened and then turned toward her.
His eyes were flat and emotionless. Saturnino opened her bedroom door for Ravenna. “Inside.”
She didn’t dare argue, and as she walked past him, he said, “Don’t run from me again, Ravenna.”
He locked the door behind her.
Capitolo Otto
They set off for Florence in the early morning, the sky bitter gray, promising a thunderstorm. The jostling of the carriage made her dizzy, the howling wind made her cold, and she worried about her family so much it made her eyes burn. Despite the dark clouds promising rain, Ravenna leaned out the carriage window hours later, not wanting to miss the first glimpse of the ancient city, once built as a Roman garrison, which was now the epicenter of extraordinary innovation and creativity.
They lumbered toward the wall encircling the city in a protective embrace, but to Ravenna it felt as if they were locking her up in a cage. She missed the wild hills surrounding Volterra, and as the city gate closed behind her, it sent a reverberating shock of finality to her situation. The weight of a night spent tossing and turning pressed down hard against her chest. Exhaustion sucked her down like mud.
She forced herself to stay awake.
Florence greeted her with a burst of color: brightly woven tapestries hanging from the gates, the people dressed in their elaborate best, adorned in miles of sumptuous fabric stitched with jewels that glowed in every shade of the rainbow. The carriage rumbled over the narrow cobblestoned streets, passing the citizens of Florence openly staring at the procession. They pointed fingers at the Luni famiglia and whispered among themselves as they took in the sight of Ravenna, sitting on her own behind their transport.
She imagined what they said clearly, as if they were whispering it into her own ear.
The immortal family found their sculptor.
But what is this? Awoman?
What luck to have the Luni family as her patron!
Ravenna sat back against her seat and shut the window with a loud snap to keep out the coming rain and their whispers. None of them knew the truth. She was their captive, forced to play a role, her esteemed position in the city a farce. Acid coated her tongue, and she gritted her teeth to keep herself from screaming.
The first drops of rain splattered onto the roof of the carriage as she watched the city of Florence unfurl across her vision. It was everything she imagined and more. They passed numerous churches, piazzas, narrow alleys, markets and stalls, and imposing palazzos, home to the city’s noble families. They made one turn after another until the horses finally slowed to a stop in front of a tall watchtower that rose four stories high around an open-air gallery on the ground floor, supported by several arches. The heavens opened, and a torrential downpour swept over the city in angry bursts.
Ravenna dragged her gaze upward.
