Saturnino handed her a chisel and mallet.
Wordlessly, she took both, lined up the chisel’s flat edge, and struck the blunt end with the mallet. The stone gave way and she felt the responding shudder, a magical pulse that rippled through her. It was as if the magic inside her and in the stone were facing off, and hers was the aggressor, able to diminish the other’s life force. Ravenna let her magic guide her, chipping away at a steady rate, but only where the stone had been overrun. She kept at it for what felt like mere minutes, only to look up to find Saturnino seated at the bench. He’d stretched out his long legs, crossed them at the ankles.
Every day he seemed a little more human to her.
He dipped his hand into one of the pails, retrieved a linen rag, then stood. His approach was both slow and familiar; he held out the cloth to her. Ravenna took it gratefully and wiped her face clean. He pored over her significant progress; she’d cleared a sizable corner of the stone. When his eyes traveled back to hers, they were creased, brimming with joy and relief.
The smile he gave her was unfettered, and it stayed on his face longer than a shooting star winking in and out of sight. It dazzled her.
“Your magic is wondrous, a thing to behold.” He hesitated. “Like you.”
For a moment, she forgot about His Holiness and his promise of atonement. She forgot about her parents and how they loved her as much as they were terrified of her. She forgot about how the Luni family had stolen her away from her life. Her eyes blurred. When she thought about her life, the years lived, and the years that stretched ahead of her, she’d never expected anyone to callherwondrous.
Let alone her magic.
“Ravenna—” He broke off as the dungeon door creaked open.
Imelda stood within the frame, frozen, her hands gripping a tray laden with a pitcher and ceramic cup. Whatever Saturnino had been about to say hovered between them, lost in the swirl of fading magic and firelight.
“Excuse me, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Imelda said, her cheeks reddening.
Everything came back to Ravenna in a rush: the pope, the task he’d demanded of her, her soul hanging in the balance. She was suddenly aware of how close she and Saturnino were standing, just a hand’s width apart. Saturnino must have realized it at the same time, because he stiffened and moved away from her.
Ravenna had the uncanny notion that he’d surprised himself. And judging by the muscle jumping in his jaw—probably from gritting his teeth—he didnotlike it. A subtle change settled over him as if hewere putting on a thick, well-tailored mantle suited to his needs. A barrier between him and the world, something to protect him from the mundane habits and conversation of the dullards he crossed paths with. His face smoothed over, and gone was his irritation, his baffled disbelief that he found her magic wondrous. The hood of his mantle had gone up, and Ravenna knew that he would lash out in some way.
Not to remindherof her place, but to remind himself ofhis.
The opposite ends of a chessboard.
“I trust you won’t have any more trouble, Ravenna. Finish the work.” His voice dropped into a whisper meant for her ears only. “For both our sakes.”
He gave her a cool look, and it made the blood in her veins swim with ice. Ravenna had the sense that she understood the full pendulum swing of his emotions. She intrigued him, exasperated him, and was a curiosity he wanted to learn about, but he would not extend a hand to help her.
Saturnino turned away and left without another word, another glance. Imelda watched his progress, and it was only when he had shut the door behind him that she moved farther into the room. She placed the tray onto the bench, then turned to face Ravenna, her expression pinched.
“I only came to drop off refreshments,” Imelda said. “Do you need anything else?”
Ravenna shook her head.
Imelda dipped her chin stiffly, her cheeks drawn in worry. She turned to go, but abruptly stopped. “Signorina…”
Ravenna knew what her maid was going to say before she said it.
“Please be careful,” Imelda whispered. “Don’t fall prey to his honeyed words, his wealth and connections. He is a dangerous man, and I’ve seen him ruin many good people.”
Ravenna didn’t doubt it. Shame burned up her throat, flushed her cheeks. She knew better, and yet… andyet.She could have sworn he’d spoken from the heart.
But he didn’t have one. He’d said so himself.
“I’ll come back to escort you to your room in another hour or so, if that’s agreeable?”
“Certo,” Ravenna said.
Imelda inclined her head again, but just before she left, Ravenna added, “And thank you.”
“Signorina?” Imelda asked, her hand on the iron latch.
“For the warning.”
