Magic of any kind was not welcomed in Volterra, but mostespeciallywitches.
Her aunt stared back at Ravenna, her hands high into her curling hair, gripping the roots. Her skin was pale, dark eyes huge in her narrow face. “Your mother is going to kill me.”
Capitolo Uno
VOLTERRA
• THE NINTH OF APRIL, 1478 •
They put her little brother in a cage.
Her brother, who wasn’t so little anymore, but because Ravenna Maffei was older, she would always think of him that way. Antonio hung in a wrought iron cage for a full day before the Florentine army allowed her to see him. And even then, it was only from a distance, just close enough to see his long legs dangling fifteen feet over the Piazza dei Priori, just close enough to see his grubby hands curled around the bars in a tight grip. She had taken one look at him and anger had cut through her, sharp and lethal, like a blow from a sword. It hurt to think, tobreathe.
Because her anger was useless.
And Ravenna didn’t like to feel useless.
Which was why she was now carrying a bulky ladder through the narrow lanes of Volterra in the dead of night. Overhead, the moon glowed serenely, illuminating the uneven path. Ravenna gritted her teeth, sweat dripping down her face and the back of her neck, following the line of her spine, made strong by years of carrying and carving stone. She’d been walking for what felt like hours, covered head to toe in a dark cloak that did its jobtoowell. Despite the cold wind nippingat her cheeks, heat coated her skin. She didn’t dare remove the hood, however.
No one was allowed out of their homes past sunset.
She swept her gaze up and down the cobbled street, ignoring the nervous energy bubbling in her belly. It was a risk to be out during the night at all with the curfew in full effect, but what was she supposed to do?
Allow her younger brother to slowly starve? Absolutely not.
Her pulse ticked hard in her throat. It was time to act, but carefully. There were still those loyal to Florence, hidden within the city, still those in thrall to the accursed Medici family.
And it was because ofthat familyher home lay in ruins.
It had been Lorenzo de’ Medici’s idea to build a massive fortress deep in the heart of Volterra to lord over them all. It had been his idea to confiscate the property of families who dared to question his mandates. His idea to install a curfew, requiring people be in their homes by dusk.
It was because ofhimshe’d lost family and close friends.
She would not lose her brother.
A stray cat screeched, making her startle. She paused, ears straining. Every street in Volterra had its own personality, and Ravenna knew them all like she knew her own pulse. At this time of night, reckless pleasure seekers defying the curfew dipped in and out of taverns overrunning Via Ricciarelli. She avoided Via Porta all’Arco for the same reason, which left the handful of less-traveled paths.
Quieter, but more dangerous.
For a moment, she considered turning back. But then she thought of the Florentine infantry soldiers staring up at her brother’s dangling feet, jeering. Of the rotten food they’d thrown at him while her brother fought to keep his face expressionless, even when they’d executed his friends. She’d never been prouder of him.
The risk was worth it.
Ravenna turned the corner, awkwardly managing the long ladder,and walked briskly. She was no stranger to hard work or to carrying heavy loads.
She knew how to settle arguments between guests, knew how to wrangle her younger siblings into dutiful submission, and how to budget the inn’s expenses for the month. Suppliers and merchants trembled in her presence; no one could out-negotiate her in trade. Ravenna could cook a respectable meal in under an hour for a room full of hungry travelers, and she was a master at brewing anything from hearty ales to soothing herbal teas.
And if she needed to defend herself, she could do that, too. Thanks to her father, she always kept a dagger hidden in her boot. If she couldn’t reach her weapon, well, there was always the ladder.
The magic inside her woke with a soft curling sensation between her ribs. It was a reminder that she had a third option if things became dire. But Ravenna would rather someone stabherthan use the dark magic hidden within her.
She made a turn onto the next street.
Tall stone buildings flanked her, bearing the scars from the battle against Florence. Gaping holes, shattered windows, crumbling walls. It had been brutal and bloody; hundreds had lost their lives. The people of Volterra hadn’t stood a chance against the Medici and their hired henchman, the terribly efficient Duke of Urbino.
Ravenna forced herself to look straight ahead.
It was easier than thinking about the family that had once lived there.
