Ravenna looked at the stones, mulling over his explanation. Itfelttrue, but it was easier to believe that she was being punished in some way. Her magic made her unwelcome in the village of her birth. It caused strife between her and Antonio; it was a dirty secret her family hid from their neighbors. And it had brought her to Florence, to this palazzo, where she had to live between two warring parties.
She was caught in the middle of a fight she wasn’t prepared for.
“I wish it hadn’t come to me.”
He frowned, incredulous. “There’s power in what you can do. Power brings security, influence. Why wouldn’t you use your talent to ensure a prosperous future?”
“Because I’mafraid,” Ravenna snapped.
She slapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide.
“Of what?” Saturnino asked in honest confusion.
She lowered her hand, trembling. “The magic feels out of my control. I’m fearful of what it will do to me, that I might—I might—”
“Live?” Saturnino pressed. “I’m going to tell you a secret, Ravenna.” His voice turned both urgent and coaxing—he was the snake in the garden. “No one is in control of their own lives. Not even me.So be free.Do what you want, when you want it, and accept who you are. You’ll be a lot happier, trust me.”
“You’re not happy, though, are you?” She narrowed her eyes. “There are rules, Saturnino. There is a right and there is a wrong, whether you chose to see it or not. Everyone draws a line somewhere, and it’s that line that keeps harmony in place. Not just for your neighbor…” Ravenna bent forward, placed the flat of her hand against his heart. “But here, as well, where it matters the most.”
“But it would mean letting myself feel.All the time.It sounds exhausting.” He set his jaw. “Weak.”
“Being human is exhausting,” Ravenna admitted. “But if you refuse to feel anything at all, you won’t ever experience the best parts of being alive. Not love, or joy, or wonder, or the solace of knowing you are not alone.” She paused, searching his face. “Feeling deeply isnota weakness. It’s what gives meaning to everything else. That’swhat it’s like to be human. To embrace the best and worst parts of life, to endure and to keep going the only way that we can.”
Saturnino clasped her hand, his cool thumb brushing against her wrist. “This isn’t about right or wrong, good and evil. This is about accepting who you are. The stones won’t yield to you without your magic, Ravenna.”
She looked at his hand covering hers. It felt protective, almost tender. Every instinct inside her warned her to pull away from him, but she was drawn to the passion illuminating his eyes, his words, as if they were a lantern held against the dark loneliness she’d felt for years. “For someone who has lived a lot of life, who has seen and done so much over the course of the years, and is by all accountsbored, you have a very inquisitive nature.”
“Fair.” He rose to his feet. His form was unlike those of the sturdy men in Volterra; he was lithe, lean, and sinewy, towering over her. He could knock her down with a flick of his wrist. And he nearly did, but not by strength, but by the quiet intensity in which he said, “But then, I’d never met you.”
Her heart battered against her ribs. She didn’t blink, she couldn’t speak. She was conscious of his hand on hers, the weight of his thumb, the pads of his fingers. Oddly, his skin wasn’t ice-cold anymore. It felt a touch warmer, as if he’d been lit from within.
“Ravenna,” Saturnino coaxed. “Try using magic again. Instead of stifling it, let it flow through you.”
“My magic brings death,” she whispered.
“It’s only a rock,” he whispered back. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
He released her hand, and she used it to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. Saturnino tracked the movement, expression soft, unguarded, and Ravenna thought of shooting stars disappearing into the heavens.
“All right.” She took a step, intent on retrieving the tools, but Saturnino reached for her again, fingers circling around her wrist. She turned to him, her brows rising in question.
“Without the chisel and mallet,” he said. “Only the magic.”
Ravenna nodded. He released her and followed her back to the stone. With a slow inhale, she placed her palms on the rippling surface, the blue and faint streaks of fiery red glowing beneath her fingertips. Magic pulsed in her blood, in a mad rush to spill beyond her reach. She curled her hands almost into fists. The raw power terrified her; she hated how small it made her feel, how out of control. She gritted her teeth, overcome with an instinctive urge to harness the magic.
It felt like she was trying to stop time with her bare hands.
Saturnino brushed the back of his hand against her locked jaw. “Ravenna, let itgo.”
She exhaled sharply, loosening her limbs, uncurling her fingers.
The magic streamed out of her, wild, untamed. She felt its malevolent power rush through her veins, pooling in the palms of her hands. She bit back a curse, her lips twisting in pain. A heady rush escaped her, leaving her dizzy, spent. The veining across the marble shifted as if swept gently by a paintbrush. It curled around the edge of the stone, exposing the top portion. But the virgin stone had cooled, its heat fading under the force of Ravenna’s onslaught.
Her magic seemed to call to the Nightflame, and for the first time it answered back.
To strike.
This way, it seemed to whisper,if you must.
