With shaking hands I poured water into the basin and hurriedly splashed my face before exiting.
He was there, waiting.
Lord Greco. Leaning against the far wall, arms crossed. I could hear the continued, agitated conversation emanating from the Great Hall. Ongoing debate between my family and Luca.
“Will you tell me the truth now, Gabriella?” Rodolfo said softly, unmoving. “About where you are truly from?”
There was no accusation in his tone, only gentle prodding.
“You know where I am from,” I said, walking past him. I needed to get back to Marcello, let him field Rodolfo’s questions, decide what to tell him—and what not to.
But he hurried after me, grabbing my arm and swinging me around to face him.
I frowned. “Rodolfo, let go of me.”
He ignored my demand and instead took my other arm, too. “Tell me,” he pleaded, leaning forward. “I want to help. I want to protect you. And your sister,” he added hurriedly. “Your whole family. You are my kin now, too.”
“But they are my responsibility first,” Marcello said coldly from ten paces behind me. I froze, feeling unaccountably guilty, even though I’d done nothing. “Unhand my wife.”
“You are keeping something from me,” Rodolfo said, still staring at me, not dropping his hands. In fact, his grip tightened. “Tell me, Gabriella. I’ve seen things in that tomb that I think you might be able to explain—”
Marcello strode toward us, and I felt the tension of old jealousies, of boundaries crossed—and pushed Rodolfo’s hands away myself before my husband reached us. I had to find a way to settle them down before it turned into a fight…
Rodolfo slowly turned toward Marcello as I took my husband’s arm. “You tell me then, brother,” he said, gesturing in frustration, to me. “Tell me exactly what is behind all of this. I think I deserve the truth. Because it shall not be long before what affects Castello Forelli affects Castello Greco. And your wife is not truly from Normandy or Brittania. Is she?”
“You have all the truth you need,” Marcello ground out, staring back into his eyes, cheek muscles clenching. I dropped my hand and paced away, afraid Greco would read my expression of fear and make things worse.
“Why? Why can you not simply tell me? Your brother at arms. Your brother who has sacrificed everything for you, for Gabriella…”
Marcello shook his head and sighed. He gestured up and around the opulent hall. “This is hardly a hovel.” He sighed, struggling to regain his composure, and then reached out, palm up. “Can you not simply trust me, Rodolfo? Trust us? As you always have before? Have I given you cause to doubt me?”
Rodolfo stared at him a good long while before grudgingly gripping his arm to the elbow and pulling his face close, all sober intent. “You shall tell me before it becomes a crisis?”
“Don’t I always?” Marcello asked, a hint of a grin tugging at the corners of his lips.
But Rodolfo wasn’t ready to joke around. “Upon my life, Forelli, if this costs me…If Alessandra is hurt in this…”
“She shall not be. Neither shall you,” Marcello said, instantly serious again. “It is our puzzle alone to unravel, these mysterious potential kin. We shall do our best to keep you out of it. You have my word.”
“But I do not wish to be out of it,” Rodolfo said, brow lowering. “Don’t you see? I wish to stand with you. For the first time, I’m free to do so as a fellow Sienese. Why not bring me into your confidence?”
“Because the fewer who know what lies beneath this, the better,” Marcello growled in frustration. “Some things are that way. You know that more than anyone, yes?”
The two stood there, staring at each other. Then Marcello took a deep breath and forced a lighter expression to his face. “It appears we must now take our leave so that we can make preparations for a visit to Venezia. I need you to stand in my stead, seeing the harvest feast through. You shall do so for me? Leo knows everything you must—he shall be by your side from beginning to end.”
Rodolfo said nothing, only looking stricken, frustrated. Then he nodded once.
Marcello turned to me, waiting as if I’d just returned to a dance floor after a trip to the bathroom. I walked toward him, my legs feeling like jelly, my nausea—forgotten with my first trimester—suddenly rearing its ugly head again. It’d be super cool if I vomited my guts out right now. Yeah, that’d top off the evening just right…
I concentrated on breathing slowly and deeply, in and out my nose, taking comfort in the solid strength of my husband’s hand at my lower back. Out in the Great Room, we hurriedly thanked Alessandra, kissing her on both cheeks, and made our way out.
“Well, on the bright side, we won’t have to talk the clan into going to Venezia,” I whispered to Lia as we walked out into the courtyard. “It’s as good as done.”
“I wanted a pleasure trip,” she moaned.
“Yeah, well, you can’t get everything.”
Marcello lifted me to my saddle, and I noticed that this time, Luca wordlessly lifted Lia to hers. Neither spoke, nor looked at each other, but it was as if the threat of this new development brought them a step closer. As if they both needed the other, even if they couldn’t admit it.
Rodolfo took Dad’s arm and then Luca’s. Last, Marcello’s.
“Remember, as much as you view the Fiorentini Grandi as a nest of vipers, they pale in comparison to the Venetians and their doge.”
“I understand,” Marcello said, no trace of fear in his tone.
“I hope you do, brother,” Rodolfo said, releasing him. “I hope you do.”
CHAPTER FIVE
EVANGELIA
We powwowed at home, squirreled away in Marcello and Gabi’s library, with guards posted downstairs, making certain none of the many people in the castle might wander near enough to hear us. Still, we spoke in hushed voices. Marcello and Dad paced. Luca stood against the wall, arms folded, watching, waiting. Mom sat in a chair, nervously twisting a handkerchief.
“We have to go to them,” Gabi said again. “Bring them here. They must be wild with fear.”
Marcello shook his head, chin in hand. “Or would we be safer staying as far from them as possible?”
Gabi and I shared a look. There goes the trip to Venezia—
“Their name already ties them to you,” Marcello continued. “What if they say—what if they’ve already said things that incriminate them as fortune tellers or diviners? Some might say they’re warlocks!” He lifted a hand to emphasize his words, then dropped it. “The doge keeps them as entertainment, much as you might traveling actors. But soon he will weary of their wild tales.”
“You’ve never told us of the future,” Luca said evenly, his keen green eyes flicking over me before turning to Dad. “How difficult would it be to believe their tales?”
“Difficult. There are many reasons we don’t speak of it,” Dad said, slicing his hand through the air. “It is terribly dangerous. Not only because it would sound so outlandish, but because it might change the future forever. It’s difficult being here, watching everything we do, say…”
“And yet with every day that passes,” Mom said, “they might be saying more and more.”
“Mayhap they’re too frightened to say anything,” Gabi said. “It took a few days for me to realize—to accept—that I was really here. In this time. But once that happened, I realized that the more I said, the more I might be in danger.”
“Me, too,” I said.
“Some of us must go, Marcello,” Dad said gently. “Surely you see why. They are kin of some sort. And may be in danger. If no one else can go, I must go to them. I have no choice.”
Mom rose, stately, elegant, and took his arm. “And I will go with him.”
“You two aren’t going without me,” Gabi said. “Us,” she amended, her pretty brown brows knitting together as she looked from me to her husband. I breathed a sigh of relief, knowing he’d be hard-pressed to turn the three of them down. “Please,
Marcello. Please. We must do what we can for them.”
Marcello cast a helpless look to Luca, and Luca threw out a hand, saying, “They might be able to contain the damage. Bring these gentlemen back here, or assist them back to the tomb from which they emerged, so they can return to…Normandy.”
The two cousins stared at each other, then Marcello nodded curtly and rounded his desk, uncorking his ink. “Very well. We shall go to the coast and sail for Venezia in two days’ time.” He looked up at Gabi, pointing at her with the end of his quill. “And we shall use your approaching confinement as reason for our timely return.”
She nodded happily and then cast me a sly glance.
I resisted the urge to clap in anticipation. We were going to Venice at last!
For the oddest family reunion ever.
***
I was so excited about Venice and meeting these new Betarrini cousins that it was hard to get to sleep that night. It all was such a welcome change from stewing over Luca and what to do about him, about the plague, only a couple of years away…what to do about my life in general, really. Now all I could think about was these guys in Venice, and how they were related, if they were related and—
Mom took my arm as we crossed the courtyard the next morning. “All I can think about is Venice and all the medicines and herbs I might have access to. But I have to say that Greco’s comments last night have me worried. I think he’s seen the handprints in Tomb Two. And the fact that he was putting these new Betarrinis’ story together with us, somehow…”
“Gabi did say that Rodolfo saw something in the tomb that he thought she could explain. What could he mean?”
Mom stared at me and shook her head slightly, trying to figure it out. “We might want to visit it today. Refresh our memories of everything there, so that when we meet these Ravennans…”
“Oh, Mom! What might they tell us? What has happened to the world as we once knew it since we left? I feel like I’ve been in a desert for years without a word about the outside world.” I thought longingly of Instagram. And Pinterest. And even Facebook…
“I know,” she whispered. “But first, let’s pay that tomb a visit while Luca and Marcello are away.”
“They’re going away?”
“Just on patrol. Making sure the way is clear for us tomorrow and visiting key people in the villages to make their excuses for missing the harvest feast.” She gave my arm a squeeze and then went off to her quarters to pack her things. I was already in a royal blue riding gown, and drawing appreciative glances and smiling nods as I passed.
Usually, Luca had his methods of keeping the knights at a respectful distance. Up to now, there’d seldom been a time when I didn’t feel his presence as a form of protection, whether he was with me or not. But something had shifted. I could feel it. Like a rumbling from deep beneath the earth’s crust, dim, strange and unsettling, the change. It stressed me out, and yet I forced myself to lift my chin and keep moving. I had put myself in this position by denying him. I had to stand on my own two feet and hope that somehow, some way, in the right time, Luca and I could find our way forward together.
“Surely it’s not as bad as all that,” Lutterius said, approaching so quietly I’d missed him. I jumped, and he smiled and lifted his hands to apologize for alarming me.
“Oh, Lutterius,” I said, bringing a hand to my breast and shaking my head. “Forgive me. I was in my own little world.”
“Well, permit me to escort you out to the bigger world,” he said, bowing slightly and offering his arm with a waggle of his bushy eyebrows. It was good to see him in such high spirits, giving me his wide, crooked-toothed grin. Since his twin Georgii had been hanged by the horrible Fiorentini assassins, I’d rarely seen it. I accepted his offer and placed my arm and hand atop his as we walked back through the corridor and into the yard, remembering how the brothers had been together as new scouts for Castello Forelli, and how Georgii’s death had hardened Lutterius.
“I confess I am most eager to see Venezia,” he said. “The other men are envious of our duty to attend you and yours.”
“As would I be, if I were not going too.”
Lutterius grinned and opened the door to the stables for me. “No doubt the doge will wish to see Siena’s favorite She-Wolf with her bow. I hope you’ve been diligent in your practice. I’ll have a fair number of coins riding on your prowess.”
I laughed under my breath. “Why, Lutterius, that’s positively ungentlemanly,” I said, pretending to shake my head at him as I took hold of my skirts and stepped over the threshold, into the stables.
“One must do what one must when times of peace make a knight’s life dull.”
I grinned up at him, glad that I might give him a reprieve, and secretly glad that he so believed in me that he was willing to place bets on my skills. It was then that a man coughed, and we both looked up to see Luca, tightening the straps of his mount’s saddle.
“Pardon me,” he said a moment later, moving between us and over to another horse, running his hand over the golden blanket, the saddle straps, the stirrups.
I knew I was blushing, feeling caught, even though Lutterius and I were nothing but friends, and Luca and I were…well, who knew what we were at the moment. Housemates? Friends? Quarreling lovers?
He said nothing more to us, all rigid, simmering anger—Over what? That I’d allowed Lutterius to escort me? So silly…But then Luca abruptly left the stables to the courtyard, with hardly a nod in our direction.
Lutterius stared at Luca’s back, then to me, clearly puzzled by Luca’s cool demeanor. I shoved aside Luca’s slight and forced a smile. I’d thought that Luca’s anger might have cooled by today, given that he was willing to help me last night at the Grecos’ with mounting my horse. But apparently not.
“It appears that Sir Luca and I are not on the best of terms at the moment. I hope you shall save me a dance in Venezia, Lutterius.”
His face broke out in a wide grin again, and he nodded slowly, even if there was a hint of concern behind his eyes. “You can count on me, m’lady,” he whispered, leaning toward me. “We’ll shake some sense back into the captain. Mark my words; he won’t leave you free to accept dances for long. Especially when those Venetian fellows find out you might be open to invitation.”
He waggled his bushy brows again, and I smiled with him. “Thank you, Lutterius.”
“No, thank you, m’lady,” he said, sauntering a few steps off, a new spring in his step, his thumbs hooked along the wide armholes of his tunic. “You just promised I’d be the talk of the whole castello.”
CHAPTER SIX
GABRIELLA
As soon as I heard Mom and Lia’s plan, I was in, of course. So was Dad. “The tombs are right here, a stone’s throw from Rodolfo’s walls,” I said, as we hovered inside the main dome of Tomb Two, in the Etruscan tomb field. “And he’s clearly spent some time in them. Let’s figure out what he thinks I could explain, shall we?”
“The only thing I can think of,” Mom said, moving past the other paintings inside the big dome, back to kneel at the entrance, “are the figures at the mouth of this tunnel. The angels, the Greek, and the Roman legionnaire. We’ve long suspected they signify time travel. Maybe Rodolfo’s clever enough to realize the legionnaire post-dates the Etruscans.”
We nodded with her. It made sense that he’d seen it, pondered it. A memory of him chasing us through the woods, the tracker with him, studying each broken twig, each pile of disturbed leaves, came to me. In a way, he was tracking down this path of ours, too. And the stories of our emerging from the tomb had brought him here.
Repeatedly, I guessed.
“But there’s nothing here that definitively ties us to that,” I said, looking around.
“Nah,” Dad said. “All the guy has is conjecture. And if we don’t give him anything definitive, it can stay that way. I’m with Marcello and Luca on this. The fewer who know the truth, the better.”
“But if we go after those boys in
Venezia, Ben,” Mom said, “if they somehow tie us together, and they’ve said too much….” She paused and rubbed her forehead, leaving an adorable smudge on her fair skin. “They could seriously compromise our position.”
“That’s why it’s so important that we get to them fast,” Dad said. “Convince them to stop talking, to pretend that they are actors and that it all was an elaborate ruse to entertain the doge or something.”
“They’ve gotta be scared out of their minds,” Lia said. “I was.”
I nodded. Until I found my sister, I’d been convinced I was living some sort of awful, extended dream. Had the boys been separated too? It sounded like they arrived together.
“There were Fiorentini who saw us leave this tomb,” I said. “Me, when I first arrived.” I gestured toward the mouth of the tunnel. “I had to shove aside the gravestone to get out. And I was in the middle of a whole Forelli-Paratore battle. More than a couple Fiorentini saw me. Dudes who did not die that day.”
I thought of the big, hulking knight who almost killed me on several different occasions. How he leered over my skinny jeans and cami, my hair down. Mentally, I clicked through all the men there that day.
“Most are dead now, I think. But who knows? And I’m sure they shared their story every time they could. Can you imagine? The tales of the She-Wolves are fantastic enough, but that had to have been some serious fodder for their gossip fires.”
“What about the Forelli knights who were here that day?” Mom asked gently.
I thought back, and it made me sad, wistful. Most of them had died too. In fact, all but Luca and Marcello. They died, DIED. Many in defense of me…or Marcello. Or Siena. Sweet Pietro. Happy Georgii. And Alanzo. And Valente…
“There was also that lone scout who got away the day I arrived with you,” Dad said, chin in hand. “He might still be alive.”
“Our story has always been that we slept here, took shelter here,” I said, trying to regain my defenses, my strength. I rubbed away a tear.
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