Chapter 6
Capitolo Sei
Ravenna followed Saturnino down to the main floor, their conversation running through her mind in a constant loop.
Escaping him would require more effort than she originally bargained for.
The immortal was dressed as a gentleman, but she could never forget that he was also a knight of the realm.
Trained in battle, horseback riding, traveling long distances.
It was him who she would have to outwit and outrun and outfight.
The thought didn’t give her much hope, but it did make her angry.
At him—and all the rest of his loathsome family, glittering and coldly beautiful with their cruel disdain for her life.
How dare they take her, as if she were a figurine, a misplaced trunk, without a life of her own, as if she didn’t have responsibilities or people dependent on her.
As scared as she was, she held on to her anger as if it were a holy sacrament.
Without it, Ravenna knew she would crumble.
She was glowering by the time Saturnino was holding the door open to the private dining room.
The rest of the Luni famiglia were already seated in high-backed chairs situated around a long wooden table.
Signor Luni sat at the head, a jug of red wine at his elbow.
On the opposite end, Signora Luni was in quiet conversation with her daughter while Marco leaned back against his seat, arms folded tightly across his flat belly, an air of restless energy swirling around him.
The room was cozy; woven tapestries adorned the stone walls, and under her feet, a lush rug spread out wide, nearly touching the four corners of the space.
Oil lamps were lit, and shadows danced across the immortal faces turned in her direction.
Across the table were platters filled with their meal: roasted pheasant drizzled with an herby sauce, a medley of root vegetables, and a loaf of bread with a golden crust. There were bowls of olive oil and butter and honey placed in between the larger plates.
Ravenna had a childish impulse to smash everything to pieces.
Experience had taught her nothing good came from giving in to her emotions.
She knew that lesson down to her bones.
Years of dealing with ornery customers and unwieldy siblings and stubborn parents who refused to listen to her ideas, even when it was the right course to take.
Years of carting stone and carving marble, when everyone else would look down at her for it with ridicule and derision.
Years of discipline, sweat, and toiling in secret.
Ravenna did it all anyway because she wanted to be good at something that was all her own, something that would make her forget about the dark magic she carried with her everywhere, waiting to be set free and damning her soul in the process.
So no, she wouldn’t shove everything off the table in a tantrum. Even if she wanted to.
But she would make them rue the day they took her.
Someway, somehow.
“Come join us,” Signora Luni said, all gracious host, splaying her hand at the two empty chairs still left. The movement seemed practiced and not instinctive. Then the immortal lady indicated to the two servers standing alongside the stone walls. “You may begin, per favore.”
Saturnino held out a chair across the table from Fortuna, and Ravenna sat, stone-faced. Her cup and plate were filled, the scents mingling in her nose, making her mouth water, and Signora Luni leaned forward to drape a cloth napkin across her lap.
What pretty manners they had for their captive.
The family began eating, and Ravenna awkwardly took up a utensil, struck by the sudden silence.
At home, mealtimes were a boisterous affair: the twins running amok, her sister climbing onto her lap, her parents recounting stories about one guest or the other, their neighbors, or any news from town.
But dining with the immortal family felt as cheery and welcoming as eating in a graveyard.
They ate methodically, with precise, controlled movements.
No one spoke or ate with any apparent enjoyment.
It was unnerving. Ravenna lowered her utensil, her stomach twisting, only to sense someone studying her.
She lifted her gaze, locking eyes with the contessa.
She wasn’t eating her meal, but she was certainly drinking it.
Fortuna held out her goblet without looking in the direction of the server, even when he darted forward to refill it.
She didn’t thank him, nor acknowledge him as he slunk back to the wall.
Ravenna was unable to keep the censure off her face.
“How disapproving you look.” Fortuna tilted her head, her brow creasing. “I can’t imagine why.”
Ravenna stared at her, barely comprehending how the countess could be so out of touch with reality. “Can’t you?”
“Perhaps you are a bit dim,” she mused.
Ravenna lowered her utensil, gripping the handle until her knuckles turned white. She had only felt this kind of anger once, and it had been when the Florentine army had locked up her brother. Signora Luni reached across her body and pried it loose, gently laying it onto the table.
“My apologies,” Signora Luni said. “Fortuna can’t help being herself.”
Fortuna deliberately took a long sip from her wine, patted her lips with a napkin, and faced Ravenna again. “Don’t you realize what we’ve done for you?”
“For me?” Ravenna echoed in dull amazement.
The contessa regarded her brightly, blue eyes sparkling like sunlight hitting the surface of a fast-moving river. “We’ve changed your fate.”
“More accurately,” Signor Luni said, “we’ve improved it.”
Ravenna could not keep the astonishment off her face. “By holding me against my will?”
“Yes,” Fortuna said, as if it were an obvious answer.
“Before we arrive in Florence, everyone will have learned who you are.” She leaned forward, her voice persuasive.
“A talented sculptress, hidden in a moldering city, plucked from obscurity.” She lowered her voice. “You do know who we are, don’t you?”
“She knows,” Saturnino said softly.
Ravenna stilled at the sound of his voice. His beautiful face drew her eye more often than she liked, but she resisted looking at him. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.
“We have made you famous, my dear,” Signora Luni explained, speaking slowly, as if she were a child in want of teaching. “You will become associated with the cream of Florentine society: Medici, Ridolfi, Tornabuoni. Don’t underestimate such powerful connections.”
Ravenna kept her expression neutral but inwardly, her blood boiled. Medici. She wanted nothing to do with them, not unless she could help bring down their iron hold on Volterra. Which was an impossible feat, akin to turning water into wine.
“Exactly so.” Signor Luni nodded at his wife in approval. “Only think of the patrons your inn might acquire because of your position in our household.”
“What a legend you’ll be. The girl who won the competition,” Signora Luni added, her eyes shining. “With our patronage, we’ve made your reputation into something so precious and valuable, it may as well be made of solid gold.”
Or thirty pieces of silver, Ravenna thought.
“My family will gift you a brand-new wardrobe,” Fortuna said, her voice dripping with poisoned honey. “Gowns, shoes, jewelry. A personal maid. Anything at all for our girl, the one who won our hearts over.”
Ravenna brushed this aside with an impatient flick of her hand. “You mean, the woman stolen from her home. Who wasn’t told for what reason or allowed to even say goodbye to her family.”
“The woman who has the supreme honor of becoming our artist in residence,” Signor Luni corrected.
“We are your new patrons, and as such, you will be given whatever is necessary to complete the work we need you to do.” His eyes glittered feverishly.
“You are the only one who can do it, I’m sure of it. ”
There was a pregnant pause as they clearly waited for her to ask the question they knew she most wanted the answer to.
Ravenna shoved her plate away from her, angry, exasperated, curious. Whatever they sought, they must want it badly enough to kidnap her. “You want me to perform a miracle.”
“Yes,” came Signor Luni’s reply, hushed and reverent.
“I’m no saint,” Ravenna said, and privately she thought, If they only knew of the monster they’d found instead. “Whatever your plans are, I can’t and won’t be involved.”
Saturnino surveyed her with sardonic dark eyes. “You don’t know what they are.”
“And what’s more, you don’t have a choice,” Marco growled.
Ravenna sat back against her chair, tightened her hands in her lap. “This is about the Nightflame.”
“Of course it is,” Signor Luni said, waving his hands expressively. “But it’s more than that, too.”
“How, signore?”
“We will cover the details once we reach the palazzo and after you’ve settled in. The work will be extensive, and unfortunately has a strict deadline.” Signor Luni cleared his throat. “It must be completed by the tenth of May.”
Ravenna wouldn’t be completing the task at all. God willing, she would be long gone by then. But still, she had a role to play. She pretended to consider Signor Luni’s words, and then asked, “Why by the tenth of May?”
“Because we said so,” Marco snarled.
Fortuna sent a frigid glance toward her brother, but he ignored her.
“We are planning on hosting a jousting tournament centered around a grand reveal of the sculptures,” Signora Luni explained. “A feat of marvelous artistry and skill from our private collection. The first of its kind to be displayed prominently in the Palazzo della Signoria.”
“And how many works are you forcing me to sculpt?”
No one blinked at Ravenna’s choice of words.
“Five,” Signor Luni said.
Five works of art? By the tenth of May? That would give her less than a month to complete the task.
Even if she were to work night and day, sculpting stone took time and care, and an attention to detail that could not be rushed.
But Ravenna said nothing—it wasn’t her problem.
Had they hired her to complete the job, that would have been different.
They stole her instead, and now Ravenna would never willingly toil for them on principle.
“But let us not dwell on the particulars,” Signor Luni said.
“All you need to know is that as the guest of honor in our home, you will be given every conceivable comfort, and if you complete what we require, you and your family will never want for money or status ever again. For the rest of your life, every door will open for you.”
Ravenna pointed to the only exit. “Every door but the one I want to walk through right now.”
Signor Luni stared at her for one torturous beat, a faint frown line between his graying eyebrows. He looked at her as if she were a wild animal without hope of ever being domesticated.
“Nonsense. You may leave whenever you wish.” Signor Luni deliberately paused.
“Provided it is to return to your chamber for the rest of the night. The guards will escort you.” Then he lifted a plate filled with the meat covered in a rich sauce.
His voice was sickeningly polite. “Or you can behave and try the pheasant?”