by Fiona Paul
Cass realized, suddenly, that helping Luca escape meant starting a life with him. Had it come to that? Was Cass ready to be Luca’s bride? Did she have any choice?
She imagined Belladonna stripping Falco from his paint-spattered clothing. She thought of them naked in the garden, covered only by a handful of those bizarrely giant roses. Her stomach laced itself into knots.
“Are you all right?” Siena asked. “Are you… are you scared?”
“No,” Cass said shortly. “I’m not afraid.” There could be no second thoughts. She pushed Falco from her mind. Luca was her future. She would make things right. She wouldn’t give up, no matter what the cost.
Dinner was a struggle. Cass knew her aunt was overjoyed to see her again, but deep lines framed Agnese’s gray eyes, and she seemed to be purposely hiding her concern about Luca’s situation under a veil of light questioning about Cass’s stay in Florence. She wanted to hear everything. What did Cass think of the great marble Duomo? Had she gone for Mass? Had she visited the Uffizi, one of the oldest art galleries in the world? What about the Boboli Gardens? Were they as lovely as everyone said?
Cass didn’t have the heart to tell her aunt that between being attacked by dogs and having her blood drained in her sleep, she hadn’t had much time for sightseeing. Part of her wanted to flee the gloomy dining room immediately to avoid Agnese’s incessant questioning. The truth was right there, rolling around in her mouth. Every second she sat facing her aunt, it crept a little closer to her lips. Cass knew that if she didn’t escape soon, she would blurt out the whole insane plan.
But at the same time, Cass didn’t know how many more conversations she would have with her aunt. The old woman’s voice was music, bringing back a flood of memories: Agnese chastising Cass for falling asleep during her studies, Agnese chastising Cass for her posture, for not wearing her chopines, for falling in the muddy streets and wrecking one of her dresses, for sneaking out of the house at night, for wandering off and getting attacked at Madalena’s wedding.
Cass swallowed back a lump in her throat. Living with her aunt hadn’t been just a series of lectures. She also remembered the way in which Agnese welcomed her into the villa when Cass was just ten, the way she allowed Cass to have thirteen-year-old Feliciana as her handmaid, even though at that time Feliciana was just a kitchen servant who could barely dress herself. Cass thought of her new journal that she’d barely gotten to write in because of her injuries in Florence. Agnese had given it to her after the excitement of Madalena’s wedding and the attack on Cass had settled down. She had never felt more connected to her aunt than she had at that moment.
And now she was going to sever that connection, willingly, to try to save Luca.
“You’re so quiet, dear,” Agnese commented. “I suppose you’re still exhausted from your journey.”
Cass nodded mutely, struggling to swallow a bite of fish. “The sun was rising by the time we made it home.” She thought again of her plan, her secret. Agnese had secrets too, locked away in the storage room. How could she and her aunt have shared so much, but still have so much hidden from each other? She couldn’t find the right words to ask about the locked trunks, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave the table early either. Forcing a smile, she struggled through the rest of her aunt’s questions as best she could, spinning a half-truth here and there to satisfy the old woman.
When the servants cleared the last of the dessert dishes and Narissa appeared to help Agnese back to her chambers, Cass stood in the doorway to the dining area, watching her aunt’s hunched frame shuffle down the corridor.
Cass returned to her own room and sat at the dressing table, piecing through the loose parchment she had found in the Caravello tomb. The description of the “research” and “subjects” made more sense now. Not only had the Order been testing their experimental elixirs on plants and insects, but they had also been self-administering, documenting vitality, wound healing, and more. Cass glanced again at the register of signatures, scanning the list one more time to see if any additional names sounded familiar. She realized both Piero Basso and Dionisio Mafei were present. But where was Bella Briani? Why wasn’t she listed? Cass again tried to make out the name at the top of the parchment. She thought maybe she could make out the looping swirl of a B. Perhaps the blurred signature belonged to Bella, the leader of the Order of the Eternal Rose.
Were all of her servants members of the Order? Were they all taking test samples of the elixir? Would Belladonna try to indoctrinate Falco eventually? Cass should warn him, but she couldn’t. To try would be fruitless. Even if a message from her made it through to him, he wouldn’t believe her.
Cass flipped to the next page: a sketch of a six-petaled flower, encircled by unfamiliar chemical symbols. Slipper hopped up on the dresser, curious to explore the crinkling parchment. Cass picked up the cat and held him on her lap. He seemed a little thinner than before she left. She petted his soft fur, wondering who would take care of him if she didn’t come home. She held him up to her face so that their noses touched. He wriggled in her grasp before reaching his neck out to nudge her with the top of his head, something he did when he was happy.
“I missed you,” she said, setting Slipper back onto the floor. The cat purred in response. Tears blurred Cass’s vision. She quickly pressed her palms to her eyes to dry them.
She tucked the bundle of parchment inside the drawer of her dressing table and wandered downstairs and out into the garden. Roses crawled up the side of Agnese’s wooden trellis, pinks and reds and corals melding together like fire. Cass settled onto one of the stone benches, remembering how she and Luca had sat in this same spot just two months earlier. It seemed like a lifetime ago. So much had happened between them since then. She and Luca had argued. Cristian attacked her. Luca then told her the truth about how Cristian was his half brother, and how he would never allow Luca to be happy.
Then, Luca had asked her if she’d heard of the Order of the Eternal Rose. How long had he known about the Order? Did he know their parents were members? Why did Cass’s mother steal pages from the book and hide them in the Caravello crypt? Cass prayed she’d get the chance to see him again, and that he would be well enough to escape the Doge’s dungeons. Only then could she ask him all the questions that had plagued her over the past few weeks.
She lay back on the bench. Looking up at the bright blue sky, she wished for the millionth time that her mother were still alive to guide her. Not the woman who was a member of a wicked Order, but the mother she remembered, with a laugh like bells and hair that smelled of lavender. The mother who used to tell Cass she was bright and beautiful and could have the whole world if she wished it.
Cass didn’t want the whole world. She just wanted Luca to live. She spoke the wish quietly into the sky. Maybe a ministering angel would hear her, and take pity.
The kitchen door swung open. Cass sat up quickly, gathering her skirts around her. Siena was heading into the garden, both arms laden with parcels.
“What is all of that?” Cass asked. She glanced up at the thick glass window at the back of the villa to make sure no one was watching them.
“Were you planning to wear your favorite dress into the Doge’s dungeons?” Siena asked, stacking several of the wrapped packages on the bench next to Cass. Cass marveled that Siena actually seemed to be enjoying herself. Her eyes were glittering, and her cheeks were flushed. She almost looked excited. “I bought you something more appropriate. And look.” She sat on the bench across from Cass and unrolled a piece of vellum out onto her lap. It was a crude drawing. Even without anything labeled, Cass could tell what it was. A map of the main level of the Palazzo Ducale.
“How did you get this?” Cass’s mouth fell open.
“I know someone who works for the palace,” Siena said triumphantly. “A boy who used to fancy my sister.” Siena glanced up at the rose trellis for a moment. “I persuaded him to give me a bit of information in exchange for a little gold. He said that in preparation fo
r his execution, Luca was moved from one of the upper cells to the pozzi. He drew this rough map so that we’ll know which way to go to find the stairs to the lower prison.”
So. Luca was now being detained in the pozzi, the horrible underground prison. Cass had heard stories of cells flooding, of prisoners drowning in the foul water that rushed in with the tides. The only way to stay dry was to hover on the bed of stone at the center of each cell, sometimes for hours. Hordes of insects bred within the rotting larch walls, and even after the water receded, the odor of mold and canal water stayed behind.
And then the rats appeared.
“He said we should enter here,” Siena said, pointing at a door on the south side of the palace. “Servants go in and out of this door until sunset. We’ll have to sneak in and hide away for a few hours, until the senators go home and the rest of the palace retires for the evening.” She pointed at another area on the map. “The royal wine room is here. It’s kept dark and we can hide behind the casks.”
Cass hated the thought of a darkened wine room—so similar to the room in which Cristian had attacked her. But she wouldn’t be alone. Siena would be with her. Cass felt a rush of affection for Siena, so strong she nearly reached out and hugged her. Siena was willing to risk her life for Cass, and for Luca, a man she could never have.
“The tide will be highest around midnight tomorrow,” Siena said.
“Tomorrow?” Cass croaked. The word seemed so flimsy, so near. Cass was suddenly aware of the breeze blowing in from the lagoon. Her skin turned to gooseflesh. Tomorrow was too soon. But it was their only chance. Luca would be executed the following day.
“I think our best time to enter the dungeon will be about ten,” Siena continued. “That way we have time to get back up the stairs and out the same door before the water levels reach their highest point. They won’t get high enough to drown us, but navigating the dungeons in high water wouldn’t be pleasant.” She frowned. “What if we’re seen? Water or no, we won’t be able to outrun the palace soldiers.”
“We’ll have to jump into the quay,” Cass said, with more conviction than she felt. “We can hide beneath one of the docks. Once it’s safe, we’ll swim across the Giudecca Canal to San Giorgio Maggiore.” She stopped. “Can you swim?”
“I can stay afloat if it means staying alive.” Siena looked doubtful. “Can you swim?”
Cass had tried it once or twice as a child. Her parents had taken her on trips to the mainland where lakes and rivers were plentiful. “I think so,” she said. “There’s a wooded area behind the church. I’ll hide some supplies there so we can spend the night. You can find passage back here in the morning.”
“But I can’t just leave you,” Siena protested. “Luca might be ill. You might need my help.”
Cass’s stomach lurched. “We’ll figure something out, Siena,” she said. “But we can’t go back to San Domenico. The soldiers will come for us if we do.”
Siena nodded, but she looked crushed. “I could come with you,” she said hopefully.
Cass shook her head. “Staying on with us might be dangerous,” she said. “And we might live far away from Feliciana. I wouldn’t want to keep you from her.”
Siena bit her lip. Cass reached out and squeezed her hand. She knew what it was like to want two opposing things simultaneously.
“Why not wait?” Cass said. “I’ll send word to you somehow, once Luca and I are settled somewhere safe. You can decide then where your future lies.”
Siena nodded. She gestured to one of the parcels she had stacked next to Cass on the bench. “A servant’s uniform, black and gold for the Palazzo Ducale.” She pulled something sleek and silver from a package that was coming unwrapped. A dagger. Just looking at the sharp blade made Cass’s insides seize up. Would she be able to use it? She didn’t think so.
But she might not have a choice.
* * *
Agnese didn’t make it to the dining room for the evening meal. As much as Cass had been grateful to avoid her aunt’s hawklike gaze, she felt a sudden, pressing need to have one last conversation with her. After stopping to check her reflection—no, her plan wasn’t visible in her expression, it only felt that way—Cass requested two trays from the kitchen, then headed to Agnese’s bedroom.
“Come in,” Agnese said in response to her knock.
Cass pushed the door open just wide enough to admit herself. Her aunt was propped up on several pillows.
“Cassandra.” Agnese’s smile broadened, but then quickly faded. “You’re upset,” she said. “I take it there’s been no news of a commuted sentence.”
Cass shook her head. She pulled the chair from Agnese’s dressing table over to the side of the bed.
“I guess I’d hoped that perhaps…” Agnese’s voice trailed off. She reached out to take one of Cass’s hands in her own gnarled fingers. “No matter what happens, I’ll see to it that you’re taken care of. I can find you another match.”
“Aunt Agnese!” Cass frowned. “I don’t want a husband. I want Luca to go free.” Fearing she’d said too much, Cass dropped her eyes.
A sharp knock sounded from the corridor. “Come in,” Agnese said.
Narissa and another servant entered with a pair of supper trays. They handed one to Cass and helped Agnese balance the other on her lap. Cass looked down at the porcelain bowl of beef soup and platter of warm chunks of bread. She needed to keep up her strength, but her stomach hadn’t stopped churning since Siena had come back with the daggers. Narissa tucked an embroidered napkin beneath the loose folds of Agnese’s chin and draped a second cloth over her chest.
“That will be all. Thank you.” Agnese turned back to Cass. “I know this must be very hard on you, Cassandra.” Agnese bit into a crust of bread. “But just having you safe in Venice makes me feel stronger,” she said. “I know I told you to go, but I had the most awful feelings while you were gone, like I might never see you again.”
Cass set her spoon down on her tray. Had her aunt somehow sensed the danger in Florence? She felt a wrenching sense of guilt. What would happen to Agnese if Cass and Luca were forced to flee the Republic? It might not even be safe to send word that they were alive.
“You don’t need to worry about me,” Cass said. “You raised me to be strong. I—I will always love you for that.” Cass blinked back hot tears. She rarely told her aunt that she loved her.
“Of course, dear.” Agnese, looking somewhat embarrassed, reached out and patted Cass’s hand. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just didn’t want anything to happen to you. As I’ve said, you’re all I have.”
The guilt was practically choking her. Was she doing the wrong thing, risking her life to save Luca? “I noticed several trunks downstairs,” she blurted out. “They’re locked. Do they belong to you?”
Agnese stiffened. “Those are my private belongings, Cassandra. I trust you have not been snooping.”
“No, no,” Cass said quickly. “The door was open. Perhaps a servant was cleaning.”
“That room is full of the woman I used to be,” Agnese said primly. Cass waited for her to elaborate, but she didn’t.
“So…” Cass swallowed. “The items in that room… they belong to you, and not to Matteo?”
“The items downstairs belong to whomever I choose, and I do not choose Matteo.”
“But… where did all of it come from?”
The suggestion of a smile passed across Agnese’s face. “It’s a long story, and our soup is getting cold. Perhaps we should save it for another time?”
“All right,” Cass said. Her heart ached. She knew there might not be another time.
Before Agnese had finished eating, her papery eyelids had drifted closed. Cass set both trays on the dressing table and removed the napkins from her aunt’s chest. Then she bent down and kissed Agnese on the forehead. She couldn’t help but wonder if this was the last time she would ever see her.
“Pure water gives life. Foul, contaminated water takes life away. So also do
es pure blood hide the secret to eternal life, whereas contaminated blood sustains only temporary mortality.”
—THE BOOK OF THE ETERNAL ROSE
twenty-seven
The next day, just after dawn, Cass crept out to the graveyard with the leather bundle of papers and her journal. She couldn’t bear to lose either item, and at least if she locked them in the Caravello tomb, she would know they were safe. She’d figure out a way to retrieve them eventually.
She had wanted to hide away one other thing—the portrait Falco had painted of her, the canvas he had started the night of their first kiss. Even though she knew they weren’t meant to be together, Cass didn’t want to relinquish the memory of everything they had shared. But the painting was too bulky to conceal beneath a cloak, and she’d have a hard time explaining it to Luca someday. Reluctantly, Cass had left it where it was, nestled at the very back of her armoire behind all of her skirts and bodices.
She tucked the bundle of parchment and her journal behind one of the high coffins, locked the crypt door, and rethreaded the lion key onto the chain around her neck. She touched the lily pendant gently. “Bring me luck,” she whispered.
Back in her room, Siena helped Cass into the servant’s uniform. The fabric was a little rough against her skin, but Cass loved being able to forgo her stays. She selected her most luxurious cloak—the black satin one with the white fox fur collar and cuffs—wrapping it snugly around her so that people would be less likely to notice the simple apparel beneath. She slipped into a pair of soft leather shoes and grabbed one of her shorter pairs of chopines. She planned on ditching the overshoes as soon as she could do so without attracting attention.
