Chapter 39
Capitolo Trentanove
Saturnino gripped Ravenna’s hand as they strode through the narrow streets, the moon high over their heads.
At this time of night, most people would ordinarily have been tucked into their beds, candles blown out, doors locked.
But the city of Florence was in chaos. Those loyal to the Medici had taken control of key locations, and public executions were still ongoing.
Ravenna could hear the screaming.
People begging for their lives, trying to convince whoever could hear them of their innocence. Smoke billowed high above the roofs from fires burning in piazzas. Lanterns were lit on most corners, the better for Medici patrolmen to enforce order.
It was Volterra all over again.
She tried to push the memories to the side, but they plagued her as they walked from one street to another.
Bodies piled on top of one another on wheelbarrows, the sound of buzzing flies, the scent of burnt flesh and singed hair, children crying for their parents.
She remembered running to Maria’s house, heart pounding, worried sick, knocking on the door, praying her friend would answer.
She had, clutching her young son, eyes red-rimmed as she told Ravenna the devastating news of her husband’s death.
His wasn’t the only one.
Antonio had lost most of his childhood companions.
Every moment had been a waking horror.
“Not far now,” Saturnino whispered, pausing at the end of the street. Finger pressed against his lips, he motioned for her to come close to his side. “Quiet, I can hear the guards.”
The faint clinking of armored boots echoed down the cobbled path. Distant voices barked orders; a loud scream came from a detained conspirator.
“Please! I’m innocent,” a man said in a guttural roar. “No—no!”
Ravenna shuddered and pulled Saturnino’s cloak tight around her. She’d had to borrow a tunic and hose from him since her gown still bore the bloodstains from Easter Sunday.
“Let’s go,” Saturnino murmured.
They hurried down Via del Corso. The cobblestones under her feet were damp and slick from earlier rain, and Ravenna slipped.
Saturnino slowed and helped her to stay upright, and then they were off again, hiding in the shadows that stretched long and deep, bypassing abandoned carts and barrels that created eerie silhouettes.
Dead bodies had been moved off the main thoroughfares and pushed into alleys, victims caught in the bloody aftermath of the fight. Ravenna didn’t slow down to look. The city was a living nightmare, and all she wanted to do was wake up.
They made it to the palazzo, stern and aloof, and shrouded in darkness save for two lanterns flanking the door.
Several guards stood wearing helmets, glinting in the moonlight, and padded gambesons bearing the Luni family crest. Strapped to their sides were short swords, and on their backs, crossbows.
Saturnino’s hand flexed against hers. He glanced at her; his face was close enough that she could detect the tight lines at the corner of his eyes, lines steeped in worry. “I hate this.”
“I know,” she murmured. “But it must be done. It’s our only chance.”
He slowly brought her hand to his mouth and reverently kissed the smooth skin, his eyes closed. This was the side of himself he’d hidden away, one he would never show to anyone else. When he opened his eyes again, they were flint green and calculating. “Stay close to me.”
Together they walked out of the shadows, and were spotted immediately. The helmeted guards rushed forward, short swords drawn. Saturnino gently pushed Ravenna behind him. “We’re here to talk to … my family.”
The guards ignored him. Ravenna counted ten of them, some of whom already had their crossbows aimed at Saturnino’s heart.
Saturnino had both hands up and was using his body to shield her own.
His voice was dark with lethal intent. “Listen to me carefully. We are here of our own volition to speak with my family. If you attempt to hurt her, I will cut off your fucking hands and feet and leave you out in the middle of the street.” He pivoted, moving Ravenna with him, until he faced one of the guards. “Angelo, don’t be an idiot.”
The guard—he must have been the captain, Angelo—made a motion with his chin, a jerk in the direction of the palazzo. Saturnino held out his hand, his eyes flickering from one man to the next. Ravenna grasped his palm, and, thus surrounded, they were led into the open courtyard of the palazzo.
A small shadow bounded toward them.
“Ombretta,” Ravenna whispered as the cat curled around Saturnino’s legs. He gave the feline a brief glance, the smallest smile, before resuming his careful watch of the guards. A runner was sent up to summon the family.
She didn’t know how long they waited. It might have been ten minutes or an hour.
What kept her sane was Saturnino, who brushed his thumb against her palm when she began to fidget, when she started questioning what they were about to do.
But finally, the runner returned and bade them follow him to the upper floor.
The family would see them in the parrot room.
Several guards led them up the stone staircase.
They had just reached the lamplit corridor when something glinted at the corner of her eye.
It moved in a wide arc toward her, silver and sharp.
Ravenna gasped, her body instinctively locking.
A blade was notched underneath her jaw, brushing against her throat.
Saturnino spun toward her, a knife already in hand, as Fortuna stepped out of the shadows of a darkened room, the door flung open.
“The prodigal son returns,” Fortuna said coldly. “We have been looking for you.” Her blue eyes flicked to Ravenna. “And your lady, too.”
“I had no idea you knew how to use a sword,” Ravenna said, her magic stirring at the sudden spike of terror swimming in her blood.
“I could fill this palazzo from top to bottom with all the things you don’t know.” Her nose wrinkled as her gaze traveled up and down Ravenna’s form. “What is this look you’re wearing?”
“Lower your fucking weapon, Fortuna,” Saturnino hissed. “We’re here to talk.”
“And talk we shall.” She bared her teeth. “But she stays close to me.”
Saturnino clenched his jaw, his hands balling into fists. He was coiled, readying to launch himself at Fortuna, his compact body conveying a sense of primal fury and explosive power. He was about to start a war over her, right in the middle of the hallway.
“Saturnino,” Ravenna said, keeping her voice calm and precise despite her racing heart. “It’s fine. I’m fine. What’s important now is the plan.”
Fortuna’s pale eyes gleamed a hostile blue. “What plan?”
Ravenna smiled serenely, despite the glint of steel at the edge of her jaw. “Take me to the rest of them, and I’ll tell you.”
They gathered in the bird room, the one Ravenna had delighted in when Saturnino had first given her a tour of his home.
Flickering candles cast shadows over the frescoes of parrots that adorned the limestone walls, making the birds appear as if they were shifting restlessly.
Moonlight poured in from the room’s two windows, bathing the long wooden table in a silvery glow.
Ravenna knew the family liked to sometimes dine in the room, and the scents of bread, burning wax, and old wood swirled around her now. Tension weighed the air, making it stifling and heavy. Fortuna led Ravenna to a high-backed chair upholstered in velvet green fabric and forced her to sit.
Ombretta swiped at Fortuna’s leg, but she kicked the cat, who hissed loudly, bolting out of the room.
Saturnino looked ready to come out of his skin.
He had remained quiet on the way to meet the others, but Ravenna knew the anger rushing through him.
She only needed him to restrain himself until she could speak.
The rest of the family sat across from her, in an assortment of luxurious ensembles in deep hues—midnight blues, forest greens, bloodreds. Their garments were finely tailored, and it seemed as if they were on their way out or were returning from a social evening.
“What,” Signor Luni began testily, “have you been thinking, Saturnino?”
“You know what’s at stake,” Signora Luni added, flicking a quick glance at Ravenna.
“She knows about the spell,” Saturnino intoned. He sat down in the chair next to Ravenna, arching a brow at Marco. “Are you going to attack me, or will you hear what we have to say?”
“We shouldn’t,” Fortuna sniffed, dismissive. “What we ought to do is march this miscreant over to the Medici and let them deal with her.”
“Ravenna has a proposition for you,” Saturnino said. “I suggest you listen to her.”
“You’re only saying that because you’re fucking her,” Marco said, coldly mocking.
Saturnino launched his knife at him. It flew handle over handle, slamming into the chair’s back cushion, missing his cheek by a hair.
Fortuna jumped to her feet as Marco raised his sword to the level of Saturnino’s heart.
Signor Luni leaped across the table, fuming, spit flying as he cursed his heir.
Signora Luni reached for her husband’s doublet, urging him back.
Ravenna instinctively jumped to her feet, her arms flung out wide, and yelled, “I know how to kill the pope!”
They all turned their faces toward her, except Saturnino, who was already looking at her. He was always looking at her. She inhaled, feeling the air expand her chest, settling her pulse. Saturnino nodded his head once, encouraging her. No matter what happened, they were in it together.
Together—until their time ran out.
She prayed it wouldn’t come to that.