Chapter 4 #2
Ravenna glanced at her Pluto, the resemblance to the knight uncanny. “Your face looks like it could guard the gates of hell.”
His expression was inscrutable, but it was his dark eyes that unsettled her. They were devoid of any emotion, as they had been the other night. “I’m flattered, Good Samaritan.”
She stiffened at the implication that he’d watched her try to give money to the excommunicated family. The back of her neck burned hot with embarrassment. They had turned her away as if she were a stray dog scratching at their door.
“I have a name,” Ravenna said stiffly.
As before, his stillness stood out to her, adding a sense of gravity to his presence.
There was a solid quality to his tall, elegant frame.
It only served to remind her that she was not of his world and never would be.
Saturnino made to keep walking, but he paused, visibly deliberating.
When he opened his mouth, it seemed to be against his better judgment, his reluctant curiosity winning out. “Who are you?”
Trepidation stole over her. Again, she thought of dangerous fae princes. “I’m suddenly wary of telling you.”
“I’ll find out soon enough.”
“But you wouldn’t have heard it from me.”
“And that makes a difference?”
Ravenna would not personally give him anything she didn’t want to, not even her name. “It does to me.”
He looked over her shoulder at her Pluto again, his eyes finally landing on the gleaming Nightflame, at the pale blue fire trapped within.
Saturnino’s handsome features froze before shifting to an expression she couldn’t define.
A private amusement for his mind only. His eyes flicked back to her.
Something fundamental had changed between them.
He’d been about to dismiss her, but now he gave her the whole of his attention.
A warning creeped into her mind, but it was too late.
For whatever reason, she had caught his attention, and it terrified her.
Ravenna glanced at her brother in his cage, reminding herself why she was there in the first place. Saturnino followed the line of her sight and said, softly, “Ah.” In a louder voice he said, “I’ve found our winner.”
His tone made it sound like she was doomed for the pyre.
The patriarch of the Luni famiglia strode toward them; he walked with purpose, his footsteps heavy and loud, each one like a herald announcing his esteemed presence.
“Wonderful, Saturnino,” Signor Luni exclaimed. Up close his immortal essence was more apparent than in his son. Signor Luni looked like a middle-aged man, graying hair and beard, but there were no lines at the corners of his eyes, and the skin on the back of his hands was smooth and supple.
The patriarch crowded her, and she didn’t like it. A quick glance behind her confirmed there was nowhere for her to go. Unease bubbled to the surface and her fingers wrapped around her cloak.
A low, triumphant hum came from Saturnino’s father.
Saturnino brushed closer; his cool breath graced her temple. “Congratulations,” he murmured, and before she could reply, before she fully registered the mocking tone, he melted into the crowd. She caught a glimpse of his tall frame and sleek black hair disappearing beneath his hood.
He was heading in the direction of her family.
Alarm crept over Ravenna, but before she could set after him, Signor Luni stepped closer. He stared feverishly, hungrily, at her bozzetto, and then he shifted on his feet, his toes now pointed in her direction.
“Come with me, signorina.” He was still staring hungrily, but this time, it was for her.
He grasped her hand, his fingers icy, and she gasped.
Signor Luni dragged her through the crowd.
Her blood roared in her ears; she was oddly lightheaded.
Her eyes went to her brother—his lips were moving, but she couldn’t hear him above the roar of the mob.
Word of the Luni family’s choice spread like wildfire up and down the tables, igniting the crowd as it was hissed from person to person.
An astonished The woman won. The heretic.
A scathing reply: But who is she?
The dismissive answer: The innkeeper’s daughter. You remember, don’t you? Keeps to herself.
And then, faintly outraged, Shocking her family let her participate.
The swirl of conversation grew louder, but Signor Luni dragged her up onto the dais. Ravenna stared back at the many glaring faces, finally seeing her family at the back of the piazza.
“Good people of Volterra, we have found our winner,” Signor Luni exclaimed. He half turned to her and demanded, “What is your name?”
“Ravenna Maffei,” she said, staring at her brother.
He gazed back at her, his fist pressed against his forehead, shoulders shaking.
He was laughing, the kind of hysterical laugh that came after a close call.
She’d seen him do the same thing when they’d found their youngest brother, Stefano, after searching for him the whole of one morning.
The memory gave her renewed courage to raise her voice. “I would like my boon.”
Signor Luni looked at her narrowly. “Your boon. Of course. What is it?”
She pointed to Antonio. “The release of my brother, Antonio Maffei, and all charges against him dropped.”
The crowd rumbled at her answer, but she didn’t care. The only thing that mattered to her then was freeing her brother.
“As you wish,” Signor Luni said, and he airily waved his hand in the direction of the cage. Several of his servants sprang forward to complete the task. Someone lowered the cage to the ground, and then others hacked at the padlock.
It was over and done within minutes.
Antonio climbed out of the cage, then spun to face her with a broad smile. Her parents rushed toward him, their younger children in their wake. Ravenna turned toward the stairs, intent on joining them, but then Signor Luni stepped in front of her.
He blocked the view of the crowd, the dais, her family.
“And now, Signorina Ravenna,” he said, lips curving into a slow, calculated smile, pale eyes gleaming with a cold satisfaction that sent a tremor down her spine, “you are coming with me.”
His words didn’t register at first, as if he’d said them underwater. She shook her head, as if to shake the words dry. “What?”
Signor Luni snapped his fingers, and a young man bounded onto the dais. Without taking his eyes off Ravenna, the duke said, “You have the honor of becoming our artist in residence. Our home is now your home until the foreseeable future.”
They were speaking underwater again, and she was yanked into a fast-moving current. “Your home is in Florence.”
“As yours will be.” The corners of his mouth lifted in a way that chilled her through. “We have high hopes for you.”
“I don’t want to leave Volterra.”
“But you shall.” Signor Luni looked off to the side and motioned for the young man to join them. “This minute.”
“You can’t do this,” Ravenna said.
“This city is ruled by the Republic of Florence, and we may do as we wish with its citizens.” He smiled at her, his brown eyes wild and feverish. “There is work that needs to be done.”
Ravenna felt as if someone had dropped her a thousand feet. “Work? What work?”
“The work of a miracle.”
She gaped at him. Good Samaritan, Saturnino had called her. But she was no saint. Ravenna must not have heard right. But before she could ask him, Signor Luni swept off the dais, and in his place stood the young man.
“I am Tomasso, the steward of the Luni famiglia,” he said, with a slight gesture toward his attire, and Ravenna recognized the same navy and silver color palette the family had worn while standing in a row on the dais.
Collectively they had shone like a glimmering constellation under the gathering storm clouds.
Their servants and attendants and guards would reflect the same constellation, and altogether, they formed a nebulous galaxy.
“I have a carriage waiting for you at the edge of the piazza.” He took ahold of her arm. “You are to come with me now.”
Ravenna stared down at his arm as if it were a venomous snake. They meant to take her away. Panic bubbled up her throat. It tasted like acid. She tried to tug free, but he had her wrist in a viselike grip. “No, wait. Please. My family—”
“It’s a long day’s ride to Florence,” he said.
He took Ravenna down from the dais, where two guards waited.
One of them gripped her other arm, while the other trailed after them, keeping her out of sight from the rest of the crowd.
Her family shouted her name, shouted for her release, but they dragged her out of the piazza and down one of the ruined side streets.
She stumbled to keep up, glancing over her shoulder, frantic.
“Antonio!” she screamed.
“Your family will be informed of your whereabouts,” he said. “As long as you do what you’re told, they need not worry.”
Her brother burst into view, panic carved into his thin face. He yelled her name once before the Luni family’s guards surrounded him. With a snarl, he struck the one closest to him. The guard pivoted at the last moment, and snatched Antonio’s hair, yanking him off his feet.
“Please,” Ravenna gasped, “don’t hurt him!”
The guards dragged him out of sight as he kicked and screamed her name.
They reached a carriage, gilded and heavily adorned with elaborate wooden carvings. The door displayed the family crest, but Ravenna didn’t have time to study it before the steward opened it and then indicated she climb inside. The family’s guards crowded her, inching her toward the door.
“You can’t do this,” she said. “I don’t want to go.”
The steward read her expression and made an impatient noise at the back of his throat. He indicated to the two guards, and they pushed her up the carriage steps. She went up, numb, her legs shaking. It was happening too quickly. She barely understood. Why were they doing this—why her?
The door snapped closed behind her.
The steward clicked his teeth, the horses reared, and the carriage lurched forward, out and away from the piazza.