We emerged, and the crowd went wild, a roar building at the mouth and then spreading to the very back of the piazza until the combined sound was nearly deafening. The doge and dogaressa were smiling and applauding as we approached, the route physically made by a solid line of knights on either side of our path, holding hands to hold back the crowds behind them. From our left and right, people reached past them to try and touch me or Luca, but they didn’t grab, just touched or patted. It was like walking through a bunch of heavy reeds, blessing us, in a way. Just as in Siena, I felt as if these were my people. They were with me and for me, as I was with and for them.
I glanced nervously to the doge, wondering how he was going to take that. He’d either want in—and try to capitalize on this popularity of ours—or he’d want to take me down a notch. Put me in my place and all. Reestablish dominance. Because this dude was all about the power, from head to toe.
He greeted me as if we’d been gone for days, taking my hands and kissing me on both cheeks. But as I moved to draw away, he pulled me closer.
“Do not try me further, Lady Evangelia,” he said in my ear. I just barely made out his words, and wondered what they meant as he pulled back and lifted my arm in a triumphant pose, welcoming the crowd’s renewed pleasure.
When the applause abated, he shouted, “Our Sienese sister has returned to us!”
Again, people cheered.
When they quieted, he asked in a shout, “But we must know. Are the prisoners madmen or kin or both to you?”
I smiled and thought frantically as the people laughed. “I believe, Serenissimo,” I called out, feeling like a stage actor, “that you have found our distant cousins. I am most grateful that you have kept them safe and beg you to pardon them of whatever crime placed them in prison, and allow us to take them back to Toscana with us. They are clearly not in their right minds.”
He smiled, Cheshire-like, and his eyes glinted. He liked this game we were playing.
“There is restitution to be made for their crimes,” he said.
“And we shall pay it,” Marcello said, stepping forward and taking one knee before him.
This, just as I was thinking of blurting, What exactly has to be paid for the crime of refusing to tell stories?
I decided that Marcello’s response was probably smarter.
“That is most gracious an offer, my lord,” the doge said to him. “I shall confer with my council on the matter. In the meantime…” The doge’s lips twitched, and I narrowed my eyes. Just what was he up to?
He turned and brought his palms together, then separated them in dramatic fashion. As if the crowd was glued to his wordless command, they parted and I could see that six people were tied to pillars on the side of the piazza, right beneath the clock tower. Men, all of them, gagged, eyes wide. Knights were placing an apple on each of their heads.
The doge turned back to me and bowed. “Your new friends in Venezia would dearly love to see you repeat your skill with the bow,” he said. “Some say that it was a ruse. That you couldn’t possibly do what you did, twice. And there are some in the crowd,” he said, looking out at the masses, “who feel they were robbed by those who took their wagers.” He looked back to me. “Given that this is a peaceful, celebratory evening, we thought this the best way to settle the dispute, once and for all.”
He lifted a hand to me as I started to speak and shake my head. “Now I know you took issue with taking aim at those who might be kin to you. But these men…” He glanced over to the right with disdain. “These six have been given a fair trial, and are condemned for murder. So if you miss…” He shrugged, and the crowd laughed, even as my stomach knotted in horror. I truly thought I might throw up.
“And if she strikes the apples?” Gabi asked from behind me, when I paused for too long. Grateful, I looked over to her. Her demeanor was all princess-pants, while I was just afraid I’d pee in mine. My big sis. Always there when I need her most. I managed to turn back to await the doge’s reply.
“If she strikes the apples, the prisoner will not be hanged come morn. He will live out his days in the prison.”
Gabi paced back and forth, looking thoughtful. “That is hardly a benefit,” she said with a playful smile, as if the doge welcomed such banter. “Some would say it’s even more trying for your prisoner. And it costs you, Serenissimo, to keep him. Yes? Might you give us another option?”
“Such as…”
“I know!” she cried, snapping her fingers. “Free the six prisoners in your cells who toil there on the leanest of charges. Your people will cheer your clemency!”
The crowd liked that. They cheered as one. “She-Wolf! She-Wolf!”
The doge gave her a hard smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Because he knew what we knew—Orazio and Galileo’s disobedience charges had to be some of the least pressing among them.
“So be it,” he said, giving her a magnanimous nod even as I could feel the chill from him. He lifted one finger, and the crowd quieted. “But this time, you use my bow and arrows. There are some that say that your own bow and arrows are bewitched. If that is true, our wager is hardly fair, is it?” His lips twitched with the challenge, and my heart sank.
There was no way out other than to do it his way. Desperate, I turned to Luca, and he leaned toward me. “You can do this, Evangelia. I know you can. They’re but twenty paces away.”
“But, Luca, if I miss…”
“You shall not. Ask him for ten practice shots first.”
“What say you, Lady Betarrini?” cried the doge as the crowd began to murmur in frustration at the wait.
I turned, feeling the tight confines of my fitted bodice. I squared my shoulders and lifted my chin, as I knew Gabi might, were she in my shoes. “If the Serenissimo would grant me ten practice shots first, I shall do my best to put the people’s complaints to rest, and free the least threatening of your prisoners,” I said, then curtsied low, as if dissolving in a puddle of gratefulness.
The doge smiled and turned to take his bow and quiver of arrows from a knight behind him. “I shall grant you five practice shots. More than enough for the most famous archer of Toscana!” When he gestured me forward, I went up the couple of steps and took them from him. But he held on to the bow and pulled me forward. “You are clever, girl. I grant you that,” he ground out through clenched teeth.
“I do my best, my prince.”
“I bet you do.” He let go and said loudly, “Now see what the She-Wolf thinks of the finest bow and arrows Venezia has to offer! Give her a target! Make way!”
While men brought targets mounted on hay from the stables, I put on an arm guard in the palest, finest leather I’d ever seen. It looked like it’d never been used and was pretty close to a perfect fit for me. Then I studied the bow, examining the string’s elasticity. I pulled it back, getting a feel for the tension. I grabbed hold of an arrow, running a finger over the tail feathers, checking out the weight of the head, the length of the shaft.
The target was ready and placed to the left of the first prisoner. I shook my head in frustration and looked to the sky. Couldn’t they have set it a bit farther away for safety? But there was no way to ask for such a thing. Not at this particular moment in time.
I nocked an arrow and took aim. Breathed in, breathed out, and released. It went high and to the right, narrowly missing the prisoner. He jerked so hard his apple fell. To his right, another prisoner visibly wet himself, a stain spreading across his pants.
The crowd erupted, half in glee, half in dismay. But I ignored them, only nocking another arrow, taking aim, figuring in the bow’s tendency to swing high and right, and then let it go.
I missed again.
This time, only by six inches. But I’d missed. I couldn’t bear to look at the prisoners again. It would only remind me of the high stakes of this game…
Gabi came up to me and pulled me close, practically putting her forehead against mine so I could hear her. “You can do this, Lia. You can. Don’t get
psyched out. Think back to Toscana! Of winning—”
“But that was on our home turf!” I grit out. “With my bow and arrows! This one pulls—”
“And you’ll figure out the compensation for it with three more shots. Why do you think the doge gave you his own bow? He knows better than anyone its tendencies. He wants to see you fail. He wants to hold on to our cousins.” I stared at her as she cast a furious look over my shoulder at the doge. She was somehow fiercer these days, now that she was preggers. All Mama Bear, looking like she wanted to push me aside and go take down the doge in a wrestling headlock or something. The thought of it made me want to laugh, melting a bit of my terror.
“Listen to me,” she said, holding my upper arms. “You have a full quiver. Once you find your compensation, and your rhythm, do not stop. You do best when you’re in the zone, right?”
When I said nothing, she repeated, “Right?”
“Right.”
“Good. Then get in it and stay in it. Show these Venetians what kind of She-Wolf they have in their midst. And their conniving doge, while you’re at it.”
I smiled. “On it,” I whispered.
She smiled and moved back to Marcello’s side.
Again, I settled my feet on the uneven pavers, steadied my breathing, trying to concentrate on only my own, not the collective sighs and gasps and laughs and shouts all around me. I stared at the target and fired again. This time, it went high and to the left. I’d over-compensated. I immediately drew another arrow and fired again. The fourth, the blessed, beautiful fourth, landed dead center. The crowd crackled with shouts, but I ignored them, immediately notching the fifth arrow, and fired, aiming directly above the last. It hit exactly where I intended.
I drew my sixth arrow as I paced to the right, even as the doge was shouting at the crowd to quiet. I fired even as I still moved, taking off the first man’s apple. The next guy—the one who had wet himself—trembled so hard that the apple fell, but I pierced it at his side before it reached the ground, the arrow tunneling into the wood of a doorway behind him. I dispatched the next three in quick order, never pausing, the crowd becoming nothing but the dim, distant sound of an ocean wave in my mind.
Only before the last man did I pause for a second, recognizing that it would heighten the drama and further secure my favor. Then I let the arrow fly and without waiting for it to strike, whirled and strode the few paces over to the doge, who stood there, mouth agape. I withdrew my final arrow and knelt before him on the stair, knowing from the sounds of jubilation all around me that I had succeeded with the last as well. I lifted the arrow higher to him.
“With one to spare, my prince,” I said. And I couldn’t keep from smiling in victory, even as my legs trembled.
His mouth abruptly closed, and I saw that sincere admiration had won over his wounded pride. I’d done all he’d asked, and the people’s complaints would be resolved now. He stepped toward me and took the arrow in one hand, offering me his other. I took it and rose, and the people cheered even more loudly. How did they have any voices left at all?
Side by side, we accepted their praise.
“Clearly,” he said from the corner of his mouth, “I’ve underestimated the She-Wolves of Siena. You are all Firenze fears. And more.”
“Better yet,” I returned. “We are all that Siena loves. And hope to be similarly loved by our new friends here, Serenissimo.”
He nodded, giving me grudging respect. “You and I,” he said. “We shall be fast friends. And with me as your friend, you shall not fear Firenze quite as much, yes?”
I flashed him my most winning smile. “With you as our friend, we shall not fear them at all.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
EVANGELIA
My nerves gradually steadied as the night wore on. With some food in my belly and a glass of wine, I relaxed into the party atmosphere, dancing with Luca, gently refusing everyone else, each emotion heightened as I saw the hope kindle in his eyes in response to my ongoing favor, my ongoing engagement.
I even rebuffed Nicolo lo Grato, Luca’s cousin, who was clearly miffed and just as clearly back into the wine.
“Saints in heaven,” Luca said to me, as he shook his head at another potential dancing partner, warning him off. “I fell in love with you the first day I saw you with bow in hand. But today…Evangelia, I’ve never seen such grace under fire. You fairly made my heart want to burst.”
“Thank you, Luca,” I said. “As Tomas says, it is with God’s grace that I was able to do any of it. And thanks to Gabi’s encouragement. And yours. Without you…” I shook my head.
He moved to touch my face, seemed to remember himself, and dropped his hand. “Without any of us, you still would have done what you had to.”
I smiled up at him. And kept smiling as the evening faded into deep night. The Venetians, it appeared, liked to party into the wee hours. But the longer the crowds lingered, the more I wanted to only be away, alone with Luca.
I wanted to be just us so badly. It’d been weeks since we’d had the chance, since that horrible day of our argument, really. But here, in this city, after all that had transpired, the idea of it seemed hopeless. I fantasized about a lovely, romantic gondola ride, alone with him. But that was for couples of the future. These days, the only gondola-like boats were used purely for transportation, not romantic interludes on secluded canals.
But as we circled in one of the final dances, my hand against his above our heads, our faces inches apart, I dared to whisper, “I need to see you tonight, Luca. Alone.”
His green eyes widened in surprise.
We broke apart with the next steps of the dance and, when we returned to the previous position, he said eagerly, “There is a small stairway to the rooftop down the hall from your room. Have one of my men escort you up as soon as you can.” His eyes were pools of swirling hope, desire, tension.
I nodded.
Thankfully, Gabi soon pulled me aside. “I need to say my good-nights and get this bulbous bod to bed.”
“Take me with you, please,” I whispered. “I’m exhausted.”
“I bet you are.”
Marcello and Luca and my folks joined us, and as one, we said our farewells to our host and hostess.
“Until the morrow,” the doge said, his face slack with wine and laughter.
“Thank you for a most memorable night,” said the dogaressa.
A few more curtseys, a few more bows, and we were finally outta there. I couldn’t wait to take off the constricting white gown, to slip on my nightgown, but it would have to wait. Until after I saw Luca. And he said he thought me beautiful in the dress…
I disentangled myself from my family, accepting their last hugs and kisses of the night as if I had nothing else on my mind other than sleep, then closed the door. I leaned my ear against the wood, listening to footsteps fade, doors close, and then the silence. I told myself to count to five hundred. And not the fast way, but the one-Mississippi, two-Mississippi, three-Mississippi way.
At about the four-hundred mark, I heard more revelers careen down the hallway and then disappear behind their own doors, but no others. Carefully, I cracked open the door and peered outside. As expected, there were two Forelli knights poised on guard, Baldarino and Lutterius. I exited, trying not to look like I was sneaking.
I closed the door and looked up at Lutterius. “I would like to be escorted to the roof top.”
He was clearly trying to hold back a grin. “Right away, my lady,” he said, gesturing toward the end of the hall. There, I spied the outline of a door in the paneling. Baldarino led the way, and Lutterius remained beside me. By the bounce in their step, it was clear Luca had taken them into his confidence. I knew that I’d practically broken every Forelli knight’s heart when I denied their captain and we’d fallen apart. They were hoping this was our big reunion. Just as I was, really.
If he’d have me. If I hadn’t hurt him too badly…
Baldarino pushed on the panel and it popped op
en, revealing a tiny, curving stairway. “Watch your step, my lady,” he said over his shoulder.
I followed him upward, Lutterius a few paces behind me, taking care to not step on my skirt’s train. Two floors up, we were out on the rooftop of the Palazzo Ducale, and I sucked in my breath. Below us, to the right, in the piazzeta, were the last of the revelers. Some were sleeping on the stones, oblivious to the damp chill of the deep November night. In my haste, I’d forgotten to grab a wrap, so solely focused on seeing Luca I’d been. I rubbed my arms, hoping to generate some warmth, when I saw him turning the corner.
The knights at my side stopped alongside me.
Luca strode up to us and looked to the men. “Grazie, friends. Please form a guard as the Lady Evangelia and I…” He paused to take my hand and lift it to his lips, a wild, hopeful grin lighting up his eyes. “Converse.”
I sensed the two men turn their backs to us and take several steps away, giving us a modicum of privacy. There were ducale knights up here too, of course, keeping watch.
But my attention was on one knight alone. My knight.
Luca Forelli.
He took my hand and led me to the far edge, where he lifted a blanket. My thoughtful knight.
I looked out at the quiet lagoon, ship masts bobbing on the low, slow waves, the water so still that it reflected the three-quarter moon. Sailors’ laughter and banter rolled across the lagoon, making us feel like we were all part of some magnificent, wondrous party, far more intimate than the revelry in the piazza had been.
Luca lifted the blanket and looked at me. “Cold?”
I nodded.
He unfolded the blanket around his shoulders, the length of it falling to the floor. Then he wrapped his arms around me, enveloping me in it too. “Better?”
“Better,” I grinned up at him. I rested my head against his shoulder.
“Saints above, Evangelia,” he moaned. “How I’ve missed you. How I’ve missed this—being close to you.”
“And I, you,” I said. We stood there for several long minutes, just appreciating the connection, the shared heat, the familiar smells. I wanted him to kiss me. But that could wait.
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