Simonetta
At last, at last.
She was human again. One hundred years she had waited for this moment, one hundred years since the fae king had punished her for stealing the Nightflames. He’d always had a fondness for felines, she had just never expected him to transform one of his daughters into one.
How many times had he warned her not to meddle in the affairs of human?
Well, meddle she had.
And it had cost her decades. It had cost her time with her precious son, time she would never get back as she’d had to watch her relatives raise him when it ought to have been her.
But, and she had to be fair and give credit to her father, her time as a cat had enlightened her.
She had come to appreciate true acts of kindness; had learned, too, how to observe and look into the soul of a creature.
The man standing in front of her, gaping like a fish, had no soul.
At least, not one she’d want to help or save.
“Claude,” she whispered, her voice hoarse from disuse.
“You, you,” he sputtered. “Simonetta. Where have you been?”
She straightened her shoulders as she eyed her former lover. Strange to think how she had once cared for him, how she had given birth to their son. She turned toward him now, the great politician on his knees before the pope.
“Lorenzo.” She let out an uneven breath. “My son.”
Lorenzo de’ Medici stared up at her in wonder. He’d been three weeks old when she’d been turned into a cat. His voice shook with emotion. “Mamma?”
The pope’s face turned pale, his lips shaping words, inaudible. Shock twisted his handsome features. “This is our son?”
Her son gaped at his father in horror. Decades of fighting between them, father and son at war. Lorenzo’s horror turned sneering, as if he wouldn’t accept the pope as anything other than an enemy. Simonetta beamed at her son in approval.
“Not yours, mine,” she hissed. Her magic sang underneath her skin, near bursting, but she didn’t have an amplifier, she didn’t have a way—
A hooded figure crossed her line of sight; he threaded through the crowd and then turned to lock eyes with her.
It was a hollow-cheeked man, grim, but for the flash of urgency in his bloodred eyes.
He tossed something to her, a small object that sailed over the heads and shoulders of the spectators surrounding them.
Simonetta caught it, turned it over in her palm.
It was an amulet. She grinned, turning toward her former lover. Claude clutched at his vestments, and he visibly jolted as if remembering that his enchanted chain mail had been destroyed.
“I regret gifting it to you,” she said, advancing on him, still grinning. “But you’re all mine now, my love.”
She lifted her fingers higher, and a soft light sparkled and glittered as if she held a star.
Simonetta blew the light toward Claude. He was rooted to the ground, transfixed, mesmerized by the sight of the magic.
He had always been like that. Obsessed with enchantments and the power they could bring, while castigating anyone who had the talent to use them.
How many lives had he ruined, searching for her?
How many people had he burned, hanged, exiled, for who they were?
All because he would never be one of them.
The light reached him, spooling around him in one long coil.
“Simonetta,” he whispered, hoarse. “I love you, Simonetta, don’t.”
“You don’t know what love is, tesoro,” Simonetta said, and watched as the man transformed, his body turning green and scaly, dropping in a heap to the ground. A long snake slithered out of the purple and white vestments, alive but doomed to crawl over the earth on its belly.
She turned toward the pyre, to the flames rising higher and higher, curling around Ravenna in a lethal embrace. The same hooded figure darted forward, carrying a short staff. He flicked his wrist and the staff expanded, revealing five small pietra magiche.
Moonhaze. Shadowglass. Lodestar. Sunspire. Nightflame.
Simonetta’s brows rose. He was a rare breed of wizard. His mother must have been a powerful witch to have passed on enough of her magic to allow him to have an affinity to five of the seven magical gemstones.
Intriguing.
The wizard threw his hood back, revealing a strong profile and chin-length brown hair. He flicked an impatient glance at her from over his shoulder. Cool brown eyes regarded her with the smallest bit of impatience.
“Don’t just stand there,” he said. “Help me.”
Only her father told her what to do. And he was king of all fae.
Very intriguing.
He spun his wizard staff, muttering a spell. The gears of the colossal machine screeched to a halt, the tail frozen high in midair. Cries of relief rose up into the darkening sky, even as the fire spread from one building to the next.
Simonetta strode forward and spread her arms wide, fingers spread, the amulet dangling from her wrist. She brought her palms together in a snap, and the fire vanished, as if smothered by an enormous blanket. She came to stand next to the wizard. “Who are you?”
She hadn’t meant for her voice to turn coy.
The man glanced at her.
Then he wordlessly unclasped his cloak and held it out to her.
She accepted and wrapped it around her bare shoulders.
It smelled like fire and smoke, and the subtlest hint of stone.
The man went up to Ravenna, pulled a dagger from somewhere on his person, and swiped at her bindings.
She fell into his arms, and he helped her back down.
The girl’s family, set free by the Medici guards, rushed to assist him, and then smothered their daughter with hugs and loud exclamations of joy. It was all rather touching.
Ravenna turned to the wizard, soot covered, clothing torn. “You saved me again,” she said softly. “I think you might be a decent creature after all, courier.”
He regarded her wordlessly for a measured beat, making no indication he’d ever reply, but the air swirling around him wasn’t unkind. Simonetta cocked her head, mulling over the right word. She supposed it felt like friendship.
“Won’t you tell me your name?” Ravenna pressed.
Simonetta got the impression this wasn’t the first time the sculptress had asked.
A small smile broke through the wizard’s stoic facade, like a curtain parting ever so slightly. “No,” he said. “But you can call me friend.”
He turned away—
“Wait,” Ravenna said, reaching for his sleeve. “Saturnino. Can you—”
He looked at her from over his shoulder. “The spell will work best with the original caster.” He pointed his chin toward Simonetta before disappearing into the crowd, into the shadows. The man certainly knew how to make an exit.
Ravenna broke free from the circle of her parents’ arms and came to stand in front of her. She stared at Simonetta with wide, red-rimmed eyes. “Ombretta.”
Simonetta smiled. “I like the name. I think I’ll keep it.”
“All this time, you were with me,” she said in marveling tones. “And Lorenzo is your son.”
Simonetta pivoted, immediately finding her son in the middle of a small crowd fawning over him.
He was gesturing wildly, barking out directions, issuing orders, giving comfort where he could.
She stared at him with a mixture of bemusement and pride.
Lorenzo caught her eye, gave her a nod, and then tilted his head toward the people surrounding him.
She nodded back; his job as a defender of Florence never ended.
They would have time together. Later.
Twilight fell over the piazza like a shroud, the horizon painted in bruised shades of indigo. The air was heavy, carrying a faint tang of ash and iron.
“What will you do now?” Ravenna asked, her voice rough with exhaustion and grief. “Where will you go?”
Simonetta’s lips curved into an amused smile, her head tilted toward the sculptress. “Are you worried about me, child?”
Ravenna flushed, a faint pink blooming on her soot-stained cheeks. “Sorry, I really loved my cat.”
Simonetta’s expression softened. “I remember,” she said gently. “Of all the creatures my father could have chosen for my punishment, I’m glad he chose the noblest one.”
“He punished you for what you did?”
“I suppose I had to learn my lesson somehow.” Simonetta’s gaze flickered with an unreadable expression—regret, perhaps, or defiance. At Ravenna’s expectant look, she added with a faint shrug, “I’m not to meddle in human affairs.”
“Oh.” Ravenna gave a tremulous smile, her gaze cutting to the statue of Saturnino. Her composure cracked, her trembling lips betraying the depth of her grief before she pulled herself together. “The courier thought you might help me.”
“He was mistaken,” she said gently.
Ravenna choked back a sob, nodded once, visibly fighting for her composure. “Please.”
“I can’t.”
Ravenna clenched her eyes, let out a slow exhale. When she opened them, they were red-rimmed, bloodshot. But she nodded again. “I’ll miss you, Ombretta.”
The sculptress stepped closer to the statue, her fingers brushing the cold stone.
Tears streaked down her face, etched with heartache and regret and doomed love.
Compassion stirred in Simonetta, a sharp, unwelcome pang.
She bit her lip, the taste of salt grounding her as she grappled with her decision.
Her father’s stern voice echoed in her mind, a reminder of her place, her punishment, and the stolen Nightflames she ought to return.
But then she remembered Saturnino’s arms around her after those boys had tried to hurt her.
She remembered, too, how he’d come to care for her.
A man made of stone.
The first time she’d performed the spell, she’d done it because her heart had been broken. Because she’d been left vulnerable by a man who refused to acknowledge their child. She’d stolen his most prized possessions in fury.
She supposed it wouldn’t be the worst thing to perform another spell, but this time for a love that was impossible but true. Simonetta smiled to herself. Whoever the courier was, he’d known she would capitulate.
“Sculptress?” Simonetta called.
Ravenna turned toward her, eyes enormous in her dirty face. “Yes?”
“Bring me a Nightflame,” she said. “I will restore your love to you.”
The human’s face drained of all color, but then she gasped, and blood rushed back into her cheeks. “But—won’t your father—?”
“Undoubtedly,” Simonetta said, eyes gleaming with defiance and mischief. “But he might be more lenient this time. And besides, life was much simpler as a cat.”
“But—”
Simonetta cut her off with a raised hand. “Accept the gift, Ravenna. It is freely given.”
Ravenna took off at a dead run for the platform, her hair streaming behind her like the flames of a comet. Simonetta watched her go, smiling to herself. The night deepened, and the stars began to shimmer in the velvet sky, their light glinting like pinpricks of hope against the darkness.
Like stardust.