Chapter 3
Capitolo Tre
Ravenna loaded Pluto into her cart as morning light spilled across the golden stones of the inn.
Her parents could not believe their sensible daughter intended on competing.
But no amount of yelling, pleading, or begging could change Ravenna’s mind.
She felt the weight of their gaze at her back; worried and desperate to talk to her.
She was sorry for that. But it had to be done.
She draped a cloth over her work, bracing herself for the conversation with her parents, but the sound of a baby’s happy shriek cut through her thoughts.
Ravenna turned away from the inn, shielding her eyes against the rising sun.
Maria, her oldest and dearest friend in the whole world, led her young son up the path, his little hand grasped in hers as he tried to tug free.
She wore the look of a young mother: exhausted, exasperated, but her eyes held a quiet love that glowed whenever she glanced down at her son.
Ravenna slipped her hand inside her apron and pulled out an almond biscuit. “Buongiorno, Francesco.”
The child let out another shriek, pulling free, and toddled his way over to her. He snatched the biscuit, promptly dropped onto the dirt, and then stuffed the whole thing into his mouth.
“You’d think I never feed him,” Maria said dryly.
Ravenna glanced at her friend, noting the tired line of her drooping shoulders. Maria’s dark skin seemed to stretch over her bones too thinly.
“Have you eaten?” Ravenna asked. “Come, let’s go inside. The bread is fresh out of the oven.”
Maria nodded absently, one eye on her son. “That’s not why I’ve come.”
Ravenna smiled, knowing the answer but asking it anyway. “Which twin told you?”
“Stefano, of course. He came earlier this morning, spinning tales about a competition and how you were up all night sculpting while your mother was up all night crying.” Maria gave her a baffled look. “Is it true?”
Ravenna let out a tired sigh. “Yes.”
“Do you have to participate?” Maria demanded. “Is there—”
“I have to,” Ravenna said. “And if things don’t go my way, my parents will need you here.”
Maria’s lips pinched with concern. “Lord knows how I would have survived without your family, of course they can depend on me.” She bit her lip, considering. “But you saw what it did to me when I lost Francesco. Think of what it will do to your parents to lose two of their children.”
Guilt crowded Ravenna. Her best friend had lost her husband in the battle, and ever since, Maria spent most of her time at the inn, helping where she could, raising her son away from the home that held painful memories. “I have to try.”
Maria nodded, accepting her words like she’d accepted her secret all those years ago.
“You know I had to ask.” Maria glanced over Ravenna’s shoulder. “Your parents are watching us from the window.”
Ravenna turned around in time to see her parents dart out of sight.
“Go speak with them,” Maria whispered. “I’ll take him to see the cows and when it’s safe to come inside, we’ll do so.”
Ravenna rolled her eyes as she retrieved another biscuit from within her apron and handed it to Maria. “This one’s for you.”
Bracing herself, she walked up the path to the kitchen entrance to find her parents already seated at the wooden dining table. Expressions were grim, lips flattened and tight.
Mamma glanced pointedly at the pulled-out chair directly across from her.
Impatience gathered deep in Ravenna’s belly, but she sat, calmly laced her fingers in front of her, and raised her brows. They regarded her silently, as if waiting for her to come to her senses.
She would not.
Nothing was said for several tense beats.
Ravenna held Mamma’s gaze. She had her mother’s angled cheekbones, tanned skin, and thick brows.
Her father had gifted her his autumn hair that shimmered gold and red in the sunlight, and his brown eyes, the color of pale amber.
She had his flat feet, and her mother’s trim waist, and from both, a gift for hospitality.
“We just received word Capitano Lombardi is missing,” Mamma whispered. “No one has seen him since last night.”
“But I saw—” Ravenna’s hand flew to her throat as if to trap the rest of her words.
Papà gaped at her. “What? What did you see?”
The image of the tall stranger from the night before crossed Ravenna’s mind. The cold dark eyes and flat voice, the beautiful symmetry of his face. She had last seen the Capitano with him. A man clearly not from Volterra. Ravenna recovered her voice. “I just saw him the other day.”
Papà nodded, his expression grim. “Always patrolling the streets, helping wherever he could.”
“Not anymore,” Mamma said. “There’s a rumor he was paid off to stop interfering with the Medici soldiers.” Her next words were edged in a sour note. “Anyone can be bought.”
“Who told you that?” Papà scoffed.
“Emilia,” Mamma said in a way that suggested Ravenna’s father better not argue with her.
Papà waved this off. “Oh, you’ll believe anything. She’s a gossip.”
“She heard it from Angelica,” Mamma said.
“Another gossip.”
Ravenna leaned back against her chair. Capitano Lombardi had accepted a bribe? She didn’t know him well but knew enough of his character for the news to shock her. Dimly, she was aware of her parents’ continued squabbling, but it took them saying her name a few times for her to notice.
“Ravenna,” Papà whispered, hoarse. His eyes turned pleading. “These are dangerous times, even if the rumor isn’t true. Please don’t do this.”
She bit her lip and averted her gaze. His terror was a palpable presence, a ghost hovering between them, an ill omen that promised doom and heartache. Ravenna tucked her hands under her thighs to keep them from trembling.
Papà continued in the same hushed whisper. “If you reveal what you are, what you can do, it’s not just your life at stake, but ours, too.”
“The villagers will come for us. Our neighbors, friends. They won’t allow us to stay in Volterra,” Mamma said. “The Church will cast us out, too.”
“They will schedule his execution any day now, like the others. Do you want me to do nothing, let my brother die?” Ravenna asked quietly. “Is that it?”
“There has to be something else,” Mamma fretted. “Anything other than…” She swallowed audibly, shaping a word silently before finally spitting it out. “Magic.”
Ravenna lived for the moments when Mamma looked at her with love.
But there were furtive glances between her parents Ravenna caught from time to time that made her blood freeze in her veins.
Terror that she might release the magic she worked so hard to hide away.
It bubbled under her skin, waiting like steam to be released from within a burning pot.
They were right to fear her.
Ravenna didn’t know what her limits were. Tension curled between Ravenna and her parents, a widening chasm. It grieved her, and the ever-present shame she carried rose to the surface. She stared down at the scarred table, their words washing over her, testing her resolve.
What she wouldn’t give to be somebody else. Anyone, so long as her own parents weren’t ashamed of her and the secret they had no choice but to keep.
But there was a chance her magical ability could save her little brother.
His life was at stake. Wasn’t that more important?
Papà cleared his throat. “Can we pay a guard to release Antonio?”
That was a terrible idea. For one thing, none of the guards could be trusted. For another, the Florentine army could justify arresting them for such an act. Ravenna inhaled sharply, forcing herself to look up and meet their gazes.
Cool, practical resolve settled over her.
Ravenna’s voice was clear, with nary a wrinkle. “Like it or not, mine is the best plan. If I don’t win, you will have to cast me out. Let it be known that I am no longer your daughter, and loudly denounce all magic to anyone who will listen.”
“Ravenna,” Papà whispered. “How can you ask this of us?”
Mamma leaned forward. “What will become of you if you don’t win?”
“What will become of Antonio if I don’t enter?” Ravenna countered. She forced herself to say the worst thing she could, the thing they all felt but were too afraid to say out loud. “If Antonio dies, will you be able to live with the regret? Because I won’t.”
Her parents fell silent.
Ravenna stood up, restless, and brought down two cups from the wooden shelf, and a pitcher of diluted spiced wine. “I was up early and finished chopping the dates for the fish pies.”
Her mother reached for the cup and took a long sip.
“You’ll need to sprinkle cinnamon and nutmeg before cooking them, Mamma,” Ravenna said, as her mother drank.
“I sent the twins out to collect eggs so you don’t have to, and Tereza is picking wildflowers to decorate the dining tables.
What else?” Ravenna tapped her bottom lip.
“All the linens from the upstairs rooms have been washed, but they are still hanging out to dry. The horses have been fed.”
Her mother sputtered. “Ravenna—”
“Papà, I left an inventory of our supplies in your office. We’re low on fruit, but please don’t let Niccolò charge you too much for his apples. Despite what he thinks, they aren’t made of gold.”
“Ravenna—” her papà began.
“Don’t forget the guests in room three aren’t eating at the inn tonight. They’d rather the new tavern near the Piazza. Their mistake,” she added with a wink. “I made panforte for dessert.”
“When did you have time to bake a cake?” Mamma exclaimed. “Have you slept?”
“Have you eaten?” Papà added.
She brushed their questions off. Ever since the incident at the quarry, she had worked hard to be someone her parents might be proud of—despite the magic she carried.
Taking care of the inn, her parents and siblings, managing the household, it had all become second nature.
If she worked hard enough, if she always put her family first, then maybe they could forgive what she’d done.
Maybe she could forgive herself.