Saturnino knew the palazzo, top to bottom. He could find anything, no matter how well hidden.
If she chose to run, he’d know which path she would take:the one he provided.
Cavaliere Saturnino was clever.
Ravenna smiled to herself, watching him walk a half step ahead of her. He stared straight ahead, confident, light-footed, shoulders straight. Of course Saturnino had a handsome profile; the sharp line of his jaw was incongruous with the full lushness of his mouth.
“There must be many hidden passageways in the palazzo,” Ravenna said, keeping her tone nonchalant.
Without checking his stride, he said, “Oh, dozens.”
“And you know them all, I’d wager.”
“Why do you ask?”
“Passageways are another kind of road, I suppose,” Ravenna said with a delicate shrug. “So many to explore, so many places where one might end up.”And I will keep you busy guessing where I might go, she thought.
Without missing a beat, he said, “So many places where one might end up lost and forgotten. Not every path is a way out.”
His words were a warning that scraped against her skin. But Ravenna would not heed them. If the Luni famiglia turned on her, she would have to flee.
Saturnino glanced at her. “I’ll always find you, Ravenna.”
Ravenna found her voice with considerable effort. He was a terror, but she would be damned before she let him see how much he scared her. “Because I’m your captive.”
His not-quite-human eyes slid away from her. “Because I need you.”
In this case, it was the same thing.
They continued on the path, the air close and sweet, smelling of earth and stone, slightly damp. Only the sound of their breathing and Ombretta mewing occasionally broke the still quiet. Ravenna couldn’t keep from running her hand against the dips of the wall, the jagged scrape against her palm. She loved imperfections, the texture that came from pebbles embedded in stone, fissures she could explore with the brush of her finger.
The wall curved and came to an abrupt stop where the massive wooden door blocked their path. Saturnino withdrew an iron key from under his silk brocade doublet and inserted it into the lock. He shoved the door with his shoulder and it gave way, opening into the circular room.
Ravenna expected to encounter the same darkened chamber like she’d done earlier, but someone had taken care to light all the oil lamps. As before, the raw magic arced through her, and she grittedher teeth against the sensation. She turned her eyes to the rest of the space.
It was filled with chests and trunks, and rows and rows of marble statues, ranging in heights. Five crates, left open, were thrown off to one side. Against a wall stood a long workbench, littered with ceramic pots that were filled with brushes, chisels, hammers, and the like. Someone had thought of every tool she might need to work, and more besides. A small fortune. Ravenna drifted closer, frowning. Some of the tools looked worn down, aged by time and toil.
“Who did these belong to?” she asked.
Silence stretched between them. She was conscious of the air changing, heavy and tense. Ravenna looked at Saturnino, noted how his face suddenly looked aloof—out of reach. “Is it supposed to be a secret?”
He shook his head. “We’ve invited sculptors to try their hand at excavating the Nightflames. The tools belonged to them.”
Something about his tone gave her pause. “What happened to them?”
“What happens to all humans,” he said, shrugging. “They died.”
Ravenna studied him closely. “How?”
“The stones are volatile, filled with raw magic to protect the Nightflame within. Some were incinerated, others went mad.”
A chill scraped across her arms. It was a morbid altar, and she had the uncanny sense that he wasn’t telling her the truth. She rubbed her fingers against her brow, trying to smooth away the gathered lines. “What are you keeping from me?”
“Plenty, but none of that matters right now.”
“It does if they were murdered.”
His lips twitched with barely suppressed emotion. Annoyance, probably. She didn’t care. She needed to know. “Were they murdered?”
