Capitolo 30
Capitolo Trenta
Marco took a threatening step toward her, gripping the handle of his sword so tightly his knuckles turned white. Ravenna stood on shaking legs, her gown dripping river water. “Before you kill me, will you see to your brother?”
Marco flicked Saturnino a dismissive glance. “He’s fine. But you won’t be if you don’t confess why you shot him.”
Ravenna held up her hand to ward him off. “I didn’t shoot him.”
He took a menacing step forward. “Then who did?”
“A bandit,” she said, thinking quickly. “He took off.”
“A bandit,” Marco repeated, his lips downturned. “I don’t believe you.”
Ravenna smothered her frustration. She knew any outburst from her would not help Saturnino, who was bleeding that odd blue-silver blood all over the wet dirt.
His face had lost all color, and it was already moon-pale to begin with.
He straightened onto his knees and began laughing, a low wheezing gasp that made her jaw tighten.
Blood dribbled from his mouth. Saturnino swiped it away with his embroidered sleeve, his shoulders shaking with silent mirth.
His brother rolled his eyes and motioned for one of his guards to step forward. “Yank the arrows out.”
The burliest of the set darted forward and she intercepted him. “I’ll do it,” Ravenna said. Without waiting for Marco’s permission, she kneeled on the damp earth. She dropped her voice to a whisper for Saturnino alone. “This will hurt.”
Saturnino let out one last humorless chuckle. “Do you know what you’re doing?” he inquired politely.
“No,” Ravenna said. “But at least I won’t yank them out.”
He looked at her. There was a subtle note of warmth in the dark pool of his eyes. “I think this will be more unpleasant for you, signorina.”
Ravenna gripped the first shaft. “Only one way to find out.”
“Will you finish it?” Marco bit off.
She inhaled, wishing her hands were steadier, and then freed the bloodied arrow.
Saturnino flinched and gave a single guttural groan.
Ravenna’s stomach twisted at the sound. More blood spilled from the gaping hole; she had to avert her gaze from the sight.
The metallic scent filled her nose and her eyes watered.
She braced herself and returned her attention to his back.
The area would have to be cleaned with alcohol, and she would have to stop the bleeding—
She froze.
Saturnino’s injury was stitching itself back together.
Healing slowly, so slowly, before her eyes.
Quickly, she drew out the second arrow, and then the third, grimacing when he let out another low moan, the sound of a wounded animal.
Again, his eternal body worked its own peculiar brand of magic.
The chasm of their differences had never been clearer to her.
He was an immortal being, she was a single breath in his existence.
A mere sentence in the story of his life.
Her fingers trembled as she traced his skin.
He shivered beneath her touch.
Then he glanced at her from over his shoulder and winked at her.
Marco strode forward and dragged Ravenna to her feet. She struggled against him, punching his arm with her fist. She might as well have attacked the palazzo front doors. He pulled her toward his horse, his fingers digging into her sleeve.
“I’ve been waiting a long time for this moment,” Marco hissed. “I bet it was you who hired a bandit to shoot him. Filthy traitor.”
“Give her to me.”
Ravenna looked back at Saturnino. He was kneeling, rolling his shoulders as if readying himself for a brawl. His cheeks were no longer deathly pale, his body no longer shook with tremors. He stretched his neck one way and then the other.
Marco paused halfway to his steed, Ravenna tucked against his brute strength. Her arm ached from his tight grip on her. “What did you say?”
“You know what I said.”
“This bitch hired an assassin to kill you.”
Saturnino flicked Ravenna a glance. “Unlikely.”
“Unlikely?” Marco asked, incredulous. “Have you lost your mind?”
Saturnino let out a contented sigh, as if he were looking forward to what came next, and lightly jumped to his feet.
His movements were nimble and agile. The brothers faced each other, one broad-shouldered and imposing, built like a wine barrel.
The other lean and tall, his muscles defined, compact and elegant.
In a fight between the two, Saturnino would prevail.
He was the strategist, the patient killer who could wear his opponent down until they were weak with exertion.
“Give her to me,” Saturnino said, enunciating each syllable.
Ravenna knew him well enough to know that he was at his most dangerous when he spoke quietly. No teasing. No sarcastic edge. No provoking. His whisper was enough to make her want to run for her life.
“You know what has to be done.”
“It will not be done by you.”
“She’s yours after I question her,” Marco snarled.
Ravenna squirmed, but Marco moved his hand from her arm and up into her hair. He grabbed a fistful and yanked hard. Her vision filled with tears and she let out a gasp.
“She’s not yours to question.” Saturnino’s voice was very soft. “She’s mine.”
Marco looked down at Ravenna, the lines bracketing his thin mouth deepening. “She jumped in after you for a reason.”
Saturnino’s lips stretched into a feral smile.
Ravenna sensed the emotion running through him, raw and restless, a storm brewing under his skin.
It scared her more than Marco’s brute strength, more than the grip he had in her hair.
Something had happened between them in the murky depths of the Arno, an impossibly fragile something that had bloomed against all odds, against all reason.
She didn’t want Saturnino to ask her what that something was.
She was terrified of the answer, terrified what he would find hidden in her heart.
“You can trust one thing, Marco,” Saturnino said, that feral smile stretching wider, his eyes locking on Ravenna’s. His next words were a terrifying promise. “I will discover that reason without any help from you. Last time. Give her to me.”
Marco opened his fist and flung Ravenna to his brother. Saturnino caught her, holding her upright and close to his side. He flicked a single glance down at her, a quick assessment. She gave him an infinitesimal nod, a silent communication passing between them.
Are you all right?
Yes.
I’m so angry with you.
I know.
Then he motioned to one of the guards to come forward.
Ravenna wrapped her arms around herself, shivering.
“Take Signorina Ravenna straight to her room,” Saturnino told the guard.
“Have her maid bring up hot water for a bath. Make sure they send a tray with food and something to drink, something hot and sweet.” He gave her a gentle push. “Andare.”
Ravenna went to the guard, aware of Marco’s furious gaze lingering on her. From the corner of her eye, she caught him moving toward her, and she stiffened, bracing herself to run.
Saturnino’s voice was the snap of a whip. “Stay a moment, Marco.”
Marco stilled, the muscles in his jaw bunching.
Anger seeped out of him, poisoning the air between the two brothers.
One of the guards led Ravenna to a horse and helped her mount.
Her wet gown clung to her limbs; she couldn’t seem to stop shaking.
The wind whistled in her ear as the guards climbed onto their own horses.
Words passed between them, but Ravenna could only focus on gripping the harness, on remaining upright.
One of them clicked their teeth and they set off for the Palazzo dei Luni.
There was a low snarl coming from behind her. Ravenna looked over her shoulder.
Saturnino had lowered his chin, his hands fisted at his sides. Marco shifted into a defensive pose. The horse picked up speed and they went over the hill, the gravel crunching underfoot.
Ravenna lost sight of the brothers as Saturnino threw the first punch.
Ravenna sank deeper into the copper tub as Imelda stared down at her, frowning slightly. She was sitting on a stool, her arms folded tightly across her simple tunic, lips pinched in disapproval.
“Your details leave much to be desired, signorina,” Imelda said.
“I’ve told you what happened,” Ravenna said as she dragged a cloth over her leg. “Why aren’t you pleased? The Medici have one less ally in the war against His Holiness.”
“Tell me again when Saturnino arrived.”
Ravenna was thankful she could hide the subtle tremor wreaking havoc over her body. The soapy water covered her all the way up to her breasts, but the tops of her knees were still visible. After the guards had dropped her off, it had taken Imelda only a few minutes to come barging in.
She must have been silently waiting in the shadows for Ravenna to return from the pope’s errand.
“Right after Signor Sforza died,” Ravenna said. “He was too late to save him.”
Imelda tilted her head. “How did he know where to find you?”
“I imagine one of the guests told him that I’d left the banquet with Signor Sforza.”
“You’re hiding something.” Imelda stood and went to retrieve the towel she’d tossed onto the bed while Ravenna undressed.
Ravenna got to her feet and let Imelda wrap the towel around her. “I’ve told you everything that happened,” she lied.
“Do I need to call for Pietro?”
“Probably,” Ravenna said, thinking quickly. “By now, Saturnino will have told his family what transpired. It’s obvious they are employing people loyal to the pope. Expect the family to retaliate. There will be questions, interviews. Everyone will turn a suspicious eye to the palazzo staff.”
Imelda regarded her coldly. “Remember what’s at stake for your family, Ravenna.”