Chapter 15
Capitolo Quindici
Guards patrolled in pairs, their boots scuffing against the stone floors, conversation between them hushed but sharp, like the short swords strapped to their sides.
Firelight from their lanterns cast long shadows against the tapestry-adorned walls.
They paused every so often to check corners, heads tilted, listening for anything out of the ordinary.
Like, say, an artist under house arrest, attempting escape.
Ravenna crept down the staircase, keeping a close eye on the guards below.
The faint clink of her tools in her belt sounded like thunderclaps to her ears.
She froze, her breath caught at the back of her throat.
The guards’ voices drifted upward; a burst of laughter broke the tension swirling around her, followed by an oppressive silence.
She continued her descent, her every step reverberating inside her body.
Only one more floor to go before the courtyard.
The sudden glow of the lantern forced her into a recessed alcove.
She hugged the shadows, pressed herself against the cold stone.
A rat scuttled past her foot and she flinched, clamping a hand over her mouth.
The firelight illuminated the very tips of her balletto shoes.
The guards moved on, chattering quietly.
Ravenna let out a slow breath. She pushed away from the wall and continued down until she reached the courtyard.
Careful to keep to shadowed corners, she made her way to the arched wooden door leading down to the basement and grotto.
The iron lock wasn’t the hardest she’d ever broken into, but it came a close second.
After fiddling with it for several long minutes, during which she hardly breathed, her slim chisel came through.
The door sang loudly when it opened and Ravenna grimaced as she ducked inside, closing it behind her, that same mournful song breaking the quiet.
The black-and-white-tiled corridor stretched out before her, the air damp with the metallic tang of iron.
Ravenna sprinted the whole way, veering sharply when she came to a fork in the path, the sound of dripping water guiding her.
Imelda had said there was a way out past the grotto.
She followed her nose until she at last came across it.
A pool of water reflected warped shapes on the craggy walls.
She didn’t stop running, her breath tight in her chest, almost passing the tight passageway out.
The ceiling was low, cramped, forcing her to stoop.
Spiderwebs brushed her face, but she pressed forward, feeling her way in the sudden dark.
At the end of the passageway she came to a thick door; it took all of her strength to push the thing open, her hands flat against the old wood.
At last, it gave and she spilled out into the night in a flurry of movement and a soft gasp.
Cool air swept against her cheeks, carrying the damp from the Arno River not too far away.
The breeze rustled the edges of her wool cloak.
She crept along the palazzo wall, following it to the street corner.
The cobblestones were slick under her feet; it must have rained during the night.
Lanterns attached to the walls of buildings offered small pools of golden light, but the shadows in between were dark and impenetrable.
Her nose detected the unmistakable scent of horse sweat.
Ravenna peered around the edge of the palazzo to find a row of horses tied to the iron rings fixed onto the front of the palazzo.
They snorted and stomped, hooves loud against the damp stone.
She darted to the closest one, her hands reaching for the rope.
The horse nickered over her head, its breath awful and hot.
Drool dribbled onto her shoulder. She moved out of the way—
And came face-to-face with a guard.
His weathered countenance creased, dark eyes widening. The tunic that stretched across his broad chest bore the Luni family’s colors, blue and the glint of silver thread. His hand dropped to the hilt of his short sword. “Thief!”
Ravenna backed away, running into the horse that pulled at his reins.
She yanked her dagger out of her boot, the magic inside her crashing against her ribs.
The guard marched toward her, steps heavy and boots splashing in the shallow puddles.
The clang of steel rose between them as he drew his weapon out of its scabbard.
The guard raised his sword.
The magic within her crept up her arms; she curled her hands into fists to keep it contained. Her grip on the dagger was bone white. “Per favore. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Ladra!” he snarled.
Ravenna gritted her teeth. She took another step back. The air turned bitter cold, black spots swimming in her vision. She blinked.
No. Not spots.
Dark shadows curled around the guard, rising up and up, swirling around him in long tentacles. He half turned around, his jaw sagging. “What magia is this?”
“It isn’t me,” Ravenna said, horrified. “It’s not.”
An unfamiliar form stepped out of the shadows, tall and broad-shouldered, his face covered by a thick hood.
His hand gripped a long staff, moonlight glinting off the five small gemstones embedded on its surface.
Red eyes gleamed at the guard before blinking out.
The stranger lifted his staff, spun it for one full turn, hissing a spell under his breath.
The crescent-shaped gemstone glowed, violet and glimmering white.
Spools of purple light struck the guard across his brow; he slumped to his knees and then crashed headfirst onto the ground with a loud thud.
The hair at the nape of Ravenna’s neck stood on end. She lifted her dagger, point facing out, caught between the mad desire to use her magic and the wish to subdue it.
“There’s no need for such dramatics,” came a bored drawl.
Terror made her voice shake. “Who are you?”
The stranger pulled back his hood. He was thin-lipped, with tired circles under his eyes.
His brown hair hung in loose waves, almost brushing the tops of his broad shoulders.
He was not classically handsome—his appearance was too rugged, too blunt—but he exuded an air of menacing competence.
Her gaze flickered to the wide leather belt cinched around his waist, cataloging his weapons: sword tucked into the scabbard, slim dagger next to it, a quiver of arrows at his back.
Her heart thudded painfully in her chest. Ravenna assessed the man’s strengths, comparing them to her own. She was strong from the years of working with stone, from carrying pails of water, and from the miles she spent roaming the hills of Volterra.
But she was no match for the man before her.
“Who are you?” she asked again.
“I’ve been waiting for an opportunity to see you.” He reached into his leather satchel. His clothing was travel-worn but expertly tailored, with uncomplicated stitches and expensive fabric. Whoever he was, he made good money. “I’ve a letter for you.”
Ravenna gaped at him, still clutching her knife. Her gaze flickered beyond him to the narrow street. Could she dart past him? Would she be safer running back inside?
The man stomped forward, and Ravenna darted backward. He loomed in front of her, a nightmare that had taken shape, quietly threatening her space. The gemstones in his staff glittered with ominous power.
Ravenna finally found her voice. “There are people waiting for me within the palazzo.”
He cocked his head. “You mean the people you’re wanting to escape from?”
“I’m just a traveler looking for her horse—”
“Liar,” he cut in softly. “We don’t have time for this.” He held out an envelope. “Take it.”
It was imprinted with a triple crown, an emblem representing the Bishop of Rome, where he reigned in the Eternal City. She ignored the letter. Instinct told her not to close the space between them. “What is this?”
His arm dropped; fingers curled around the envelope. “Please don’t be difficult. The letter will explain all. So I suggest the next time I offer it to you that you take it from me and read what it says. Then return to the palazzo without fuss.”
The please gave her pause. He didn’t sound remotely polite, rather like someone who had come a long way, tired and hungry, someone who was only moments from snapping. She didn’t want to be near him when he did.
“I can’t read,” she said. “Please, can’t you help me home?”
“You’re lying again, and no, I can’t,” he said, the boredom draining from his voice. The lines across his brow deepened, grim fissures that did not bode well for her. “I’m just the courier.”
His gloved hand dropped lightly to the hilt of his sword as he took another step forward, forcing her backward.
His other hand raised the staff. Ravenna held up her hand, fingers spread wide.
A tremor ran through her, the magic inside her stirring at her rising emotion. Her fear. “Don’t come any closer.”
Once again, he extended the envelope to her. “Then take it.”
Ravenna hastily stepped forward. She took the letter and told herself to calm down, to breathe in deep through her nose. The magic inside her stilled, like water in a millpond. The courier tilted his head, dark brows knitting together. His gaze flickered over her, seemingly through her.
“Interessant,” he murmured.
His close assessment unnerved her. “What is?”
But he was apparently done with his examination. “You’re wasting time. Read it.”
Her attention dropped to the name, her name, written across the back.
Her fingers shook as she tore open the envelope and pulled out the note.
Moonlight swept over them, but even so, she had to squint to make out the words.
A strange sound made her look up toward the courier.
He’d spun the staff once more, but this time a glimmering spire-like crystal shone, the golden light growing brighter by the second.