If it weren’t for him, my blood would have been wasted, she thought. A puddle on the stone doorstep in front of this very church. Clearly it was her blood he had saved from the dogs, not her.
She swallowed back the taste of bile. She thought of the party at Palazzo della Notte where she had first laid eyes on Piero. He wasn’t the one who had lured Hortensa upstairs. Signor Mafei, perhaps? How many other men were doing Belladonna’s evil deeds? How many other women had fallen prey to the scheme, enticed by promises of seduction only to be drugged and bled without their knowledge? Perhaps all of the women who found themselves on the drowning platform had been victims of the Order. It was perfectly horrible.
But it was perfect.
Cass realized the church was almost empty. Just a handful of black-robed figures still clustered around the baptismal pool, clawing at the remaining minuscule spots of blood. The wispy smoke from the scarlet candles faded into the gloom. She remembered how the doors had been locked the night of her attack. The last thing she wanted was to end up trapped inside. She rose quickly from her hiding spot, but her legs wobbled beneath her, and she sank back to the floor.
Tears stung her eyes. Her arm didn’t hurt, not too much. It was her heart, her whole being that ached. The realization that her parents might have accepted—supported, even—something so depraved sliced through her.
Willing away the surge of darkness that threatened to overcome her, she tried once more to stand. Slowly, with one hand on the back pew for balance, she struggled to her feet and returned to the entrance hall. She flung open the heavy door and let the rush of air pull her out into the night. The door slammed shut behind her.
She glanced across the vast field to where the outline of Belladonna’s villa loomed. She wasn’t going back there. Not ever. She needed to return to Florence, to Madalena and Siena. But she was at least a couple of miles from Palazzo Alioni, with no real guarantee that she’d be able to find it even if she did walk all the way to the city.
A chuffing sound made her turn her head. There were still two carriages parked on the road along the side of the church, undoubtedly belonging to the Order members who were still lingering inside. Cass crept toward them. Both drivers stood in front of the lead carriage, passing a silver flask back and forth.
She quickly circled behind the second carriage. It had a rack on top for supplies as well as a deep wooden compartment built into the back. Were the owners going into Florence? Probably, but there was no guarantee. She opened the door to the compartment and peered into the black space. It was big enough for a pair of trunks.
Or a person.
Cass glanced back toward the front of the church. The wooden door was swinging open. There was no time to think. She used her good arm to pull herself up and into the compartment, gathering her cloak around her to protect her skin from the rough wood. Folding her knees up toward her chest, she pulled the door shut from inside, tucking the hem of her cloak in the latch to prevent it from engaging and trapping her inside.
Santo cielo! What had she done? What if these people lived farther away from Florence than Belladonna? What if they decided to shuck off their cloaks and tuck them into the luggage compartment? They might think she was a robber and stab her.
But Cass couldn’t change her mind now. If she tried to slip out, she would be discovered. Besides, almost any destination would be preferable to Villa Briani. She struggled to make out the sound of approaching footsteps, but her blood was drumming in her ears and her heart was rattling beneath her breastbone, blocking all noises from the outside until the door to the riding compartment opened with a rusty groan. She held her breath.
Voices sounded. A man and a woman. Their words were muffled, but Cass didn’t think she recognized either speaker.
Seconds later, the horse whinnied and the wheels beneath Cass began to roll. It took all of her concentration to hold her body still and keep from crying out each time the carriage hit a bump or a rock. She cradled her injured arm against her chest, trying to protect it from the compartment’s hard angles.
Each time the carriage turned, Cass tried to decipher whether she was headed toward Florence, but all the bouncing around had left her hopelessly dizzy, and the darkness threatened to smother her. All she could do was hope for the best.
It seemed like an eternity before the wheels slowed beneath her and the carriage came to a stop. The door opened and Cass heard the passengers alight. She strained to hear their animated voices, wishing she could make out what they were saying. Their footsteps receded, and she was just about to open the compartment when she heard another voice. The horse chuffed and stamped its feet. The driver must be unhooking it to stable it for the evening.
Cass waited until she heard the horse plod away. Then she waited some more, just in case. Her eyes had begun to adjust to the blackness of the compartment, and she could make out the tight walls of the cramped space. Her knees were still folded up against her torso. It would feel good to stretch her legs.
She opened the compartment a crack and peeked out. More darkness, with just the faintest hint of moonlight streaming through a high window. She opened the door the rest of the way and slid her body out of the carriage. She was in the stable of a private palazzo. She crept out onto the street and was relieved to see what appeared to be Florence.
But where exactly in Florence? Cass wasn’t sure. She twisted her neck from side to side and stretched her arm over her head. She knew she should be scared, that walking the streets alone was dangerous, but she was just relieved to be away from Villa Briani.
She picked a street and continued straight along it, hoping she might hit the banks of the Arno or find something she recognized. Each time she saw the tall spike of a church steeple in the distance, she hurried forward, hopeful it would be the Campanile, and next to it the beautiful Duomo, Santa Maria del Fiore.
A scratching sound rose suddenly from the silence behind her, but when she whirled around to see who was following her, she came face-to-face with the discarded paper wrapping from someone’s buy at the market, blowing and twisting its way down the path. She shook her head. Would she ever stop jumping at shadows?
Just as despair threatened to overcome her, Cass saw something familiar: a wooden sign shaped like a wine goblet swinging back and forth in the breeze. I Setti Dolori. The taverna she had gone to with Falco.
Cass retraced that path they had taken when they left, hurrying quickly past the spot where they’d kissed. She crossed the Piazza del Mercato Vecchio, which was quiet except for a single homeless man who was fast asleep on the steps outside of the church. As she approached Palazzo Alioni from behind, Cass realized she had another problem. No one was expecting her. The servants would all be asleep and the door would be locked. She would have to sleep in the stable.
She didn’t mind. Slipping inside the darkened enclosure, Cass barely noticed the stink of manure or the roughness of the hay she lay down in. Her eyes were drawn to the gaudy pair of unicorns painted on Palazzo Alioni’s carriage. She was finally safe.
But she had failed.
The Book of the Eternal Rose was gone, and Luca’s execution was just over a week away.
Light filtering through the high stable windows woke her in the early morning. Plucking a few bits of hay from her hair, she smoothed her oversized cloak and knocked gingerly on the front door of Palazzo Alioni. The butler looked bleary-eyed as he opened the front door.
“Bongiorno.” Cass headed straight for the stairs before he could even reply. She felt stronger on her feet than she had in days. Just getting away from Villa Briani seemed to have improved her condition. She slipped into her little room and hurriedly closed the door behind her. Almost without thinking, she dropped the dead bolt into place. She had never been so happy to see the stark walls and dusty painting of the Virgin.