Chapter 1 #2
She glared at it as she reached for her scarsella, a tapered pouch riveted onto her leather utility belt.
It held a small chisel and carving knife, a hand-stitched booklet bound with a waxed linen cord, and charcoal sticks wrapped in a slim leather sleeve.
Ravenna never went anywhere without it. Her clothing had also been chosen with care: a dark burgundy gown, expertly made but with simple adornments, the wool cloak with the hood pulled up and over her head.
Her favorite part about the dress? It had pockets enough to suit her practical needs.
She pulled out the small carving knife, intent on the padlock.
“Don’t,” Antonio warned. “If I run, the first place they’ll look is the inn.”
Ravenna nodded, having expected his reply. “When they don’t find you there, the soldiers will move on.”
“And then they’ll place you in the cage. I must stay.” He wrapped his hands around the bars. “Go home.”
She ignored him, even if he was right. She put away the carving knife and then withdrew a thick loaf, seasoned with rosemary and garlic, from within her bag.
He snatched the bread out of her hands, tore a big chunk off with his teeth.
Seeing him reduced to a feverish hunger reignited her anger.
Deep caverns marred his tanned skin, hollows under his eyes and cheekbones that hadn’t existed before he stood up to one of the few Florentine soldiers that had remained behind to ensure order and enforce the infernal curfew.
And to prevent any uprisings against the Medici.
But looking at her brother’s gaunt face, she knew her brother would never give up the fight.
Ravenna was angry. But her brother burned fiery hot, lit from within by a holy fire. She reached forward, snaking her arm between the bars. He let her brush his dirty hair off his brow, something he would have never allowed if the circumstances hadn’t been what they were.
“I have a plan,” she whispered.
Antonio finished chewing, brows raised expectantly.
“I’m going to get you released,” she said.
“How?” Bitterness stole over him, creeping across his face like a winter storm. “You heard those bastards. They won’t let me go, even for a king’s ransom. I’m a cautionary tale.” His lips twisted in disgust. “Another warning.”
“I have a way,” Ravenna insisted. “You’ve been stuck up here so you might not have heard about tomorrow.”
Antonio snorted. “Rather hard to miss the preparations for the festival.” He gestured to the tables, the raised dais. “Who’s coming?” His hands curled into fists. “Is it them? The Medici? Come to gloat?”
He uttered their name like he would a curse.
“It’s not a festival,” Ravenna said. “It’s a competition. The Medici family aren’t hosting it, but their allies are. They are supposed to arrive tomorrow morning.”
His belligerent expression faded; he dropped his arms to his sides, leaned back against the bars. “You don’t mean…”
“Yes, them. The immortals.” She paused. “The Luni famiglia.”
They stared at each other for several awestruck beats.
No one knew where the Luni famiglia came from, only that they’d arrived in Florence almost a century earlier, and that ever since they’d ruled the city in all but name.
There were many who believed them to be fae, but that didn’t explain why they elected to live in a distinctly human city, intimately involving themselves with human affairs, when the fae infamously only made disastrous bargains.
If the Luni famiglia were indeed fae, then they were unusual ones.
And except for the Medici, no one else wielded that kind of power.
Long before Ravenna was born, the Holy Roman emperor had granted the Luni family a dukedom in thanks for their service to the Republic of Florence.
The eldest son had been proclaimed a knight, and he stood to inherit their fortune, most of their properties, and the coveted title.
His younger brother supervised the Florentine army—he was the one who had delivered the Duke of Urbino to their front gate—and their youngest sister was proclaimed a countess.
And if that wasn’t enough, tales of the siblings’ beauty and grace were sung in every tavern, banquet, festival, and tournament up and down the whole of the peninsula.
Ravenna couldn’t abide the tales or the songs.
No matter how outrageously beautiful and wealthy and powerful they were.
“Why on earth would they be coming here?” He narrowed his dark eyes at her. “And what does that have to do with me?”
“They’re hosting a competition for sculptors. Participants need to present their best work—” She gestured to one of the tables. “And the Luni famiglia will pick a winner.”
“Again,” Antonio said impatiently, “I don’t see how—”
“I will be competing.”
Antonio jerked forward, and the cage swung wildly. Ravenna grasped one of the bars to help settle the motion.
“You’re not a sculptor,” Antonio said.
She released the bar, stiffening. “Yes, I am.”
“Have you lost your mind?” Antonio asked.
“You’re a woman. Who’s going to let you participate?
No one.” He shook his head at her, baffled and despairing all at once.
“I’m surprised at you, Ravenna. Our parents have already suffered a blow with my being locked up in here, why degrade their name further? ”
“Because I want to help you,” Ravenna said quietly, stung.
“Ravenna—”
She held up her hand to ward off another one of his protests. “You haven’t asked me what the winner will receive.”
He made a scoffing noise at the back of his throat. “It hardly signifies.”
“It does. If I win, the prize is a boon. Anything I want.” Antonio widened his eyes, and Ravenna held his gaze. “My prize will be your release, and the dropping of the charges against you.”
Her brother gaped at her, hope unspooling in his dark eyes. But his face shuttered, and any hope he had felt vanished. “There’s no chance of you winning. Not when you’re competing against Mirandola and Bramante.”
Ravenna resisted the urge to rattle the cage.
Because he was right. It was an impossible feat.
Her odds of winning were practically nonexistent.
Their parents were honorable innkeepers, known for their hospitality, not for their artistic abilities.
The only artist in the family had been her aunt, and she’d taught Ravenna everything she knew, but she was long gone.
Her parents allowed her this one eccentricity because she so adroitly managed everything else at the locanda.
However, she was talented, and she would do whatever it took to free her brother from the literal cage he sat in fifteen feet off the ground.
She wished he’d have faith in her.
Especially because she still couldn’t breathe seeing him locked up.
“Go back home,” he muttered.
She gaped at him. “Antonio, I’m only trying to help.”
“That’s not what you’re doing. It’s cruel to give a man hope when there is none.”
“Don’t talk like that,” Ravenna pleaded. “Don’t give up, there’s always hope. You’ve been acting different ever since the Medici came, Antonio. This isn’t like you. Angry all the time, bitter and defeated.”
He glowered at her, anger curling his lip in an ugly sneer.
“I know you think you can fix everything in the known universe, but this is something out of your control. You can’t save Volterra.
You can’t even save yourself.” Ravenna flinched.
“You can’t save me. I’m who I am because of what they’ve done to our home, to my friends. ”
“But—”
“Leave me.”
Ravenna wouldn’t accept that.
She reached again into her bag, pulling out a wheel of cheese wrapped in a cloth napkin. Wordlessly, she handed it to him. Antonio stared at it with clear yearning, but Ravenna knew he’d rather yell at her instead.
“Please eat. Do it for our parents if not for me.”
Antonio sighed, but took the food. “You’re only delaying the inevitable.”
To speak further would be to invite another argument. She kept her mouth shut as she descended the ladder, but this time she was the one who wanted to yell. The whole way home, she made a vow to herself.
Ravenna would save her brother, even if it killed her.