by Fiona Paul
The two girls circled away from the guard, turning two sharp corners until they had returned to the bottom of the service stairwell. They needed those keys, but there was no way to sneak up on him while he was awake. If they were lucky, he would eventually fall asleep.
Cass and Siena huddled in the darkness of the stairs, creeping to the edge of the cellblock occasionally to peek around the corner at the guard. He took swigs of his flask and toyed with the hilt of his sword. At one point Cass thought she heard him singing to himself. The fetid water slowly rose up to her waist, soaking her skirts, making it feel as though her pockets were filled with lead.
She chanced another glimpse around the corner. Black liquid lapped at the edges of the guard’s platform. He had slumped against the wall, his chin resting on his chest.
Now was their chance.
Cass directed Siena back to Luca’s cell. She had to be ready to pull open the dead bolts as soon as Cass had the keys in her possession.
Straightening up, Cass moved carefully through the thick, foul-smelling liquid. It sucked at her stockings as she advanced. Her shoes were bricks. Heavy. So heavy. Her skirts swirled around her in the mire. The blackness was a cloth bag—no, a coffin—that threatened to smother her. She clutched the slab of broken rock so tightly that she feared it might crumble to pieces before she made it down the corridor.
Another heavy step. And then another. She approached the sleeping guard. The prisoners were all quiet. Cass prayed for stealth, for invisibility. If one of them called out, she was a dead woman. Another step. Her whole body trembled. But there was no turning back.
Slowly, she maneuvered herself onto the raised platform. She hovered over the guard, trembling. He snored lightly, expelling the smell of liquor. Cass could see the stubble of beard. The network of wrinkles around his eyes. She could almost see the pulsing of blood in the thick vessels of his throat. Her own blood roared in her ears. She turned her head toward the darkness. Where was Siena? Was she ready? When Siena loosened the dead bolts, the guard would wake up. Unless…
Cass considered the heavy rock cupped in her hand and then thought about the dagger in her pocket. She looked back at the guard, visualizing the pulsing in his neck. She imagined sticking the blade through his throat, spilling his blood down the platform into the murky water. He was sleeping so soundly. She could do it.
Only she couldn’t do it.
She didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed.
The keys dangled just above the guard’s head. Carefully, Cass rose to her feet. She extended her arm, for once grateful that she was taller than most every girl she knew. Luca’s freedom was at the tips of her fingers. She could save him, maybe, as long as the keys didn’t clank together.
But they would. She knew they would. And then the guard would wake.
Keeping one hand curled around the wet piece of stone, Cass slowly reached for the keys.
“No man can achieve greatness without risking his life for it.”
—THE BOOK OF THE ETERNAL ROSE
twenty-eight
Just as her fingers curled around the cold metal, the guard grunted and changed positions. Cass flinched. The keys fell from her trembling fingers, landing on the stone platform with a harsh jangling sound. The guard’s eyes opened.
Both he and Cass froze. His eyes seemed focused on her throat. He blinked rapidly in the dim light as he went to draw his sword. Cass realized he was staring at her pendant, that the diamond of her lily must have reflected the lantern light oddly, rendering him blind for a precious second or two. She attacked, slamming the rock down against the bridge of his nose. He groaned, flailing sideways, tipping his lantern. The flame flickered out, but not before Cass saw the guard reach again for his sword.
She brought the lump of stone down hard on the back of his skull.
He slumped forward, hands twitching. Cass cracked him a third time with the rock, and his body went limp. The hysterical desire to laugh rose in her throat. Please don’t be dead.
Grabbing the keys, she spun and jumped off the platform into the dark, swirling water. All she had to do was get Luca. Then they could escape back into the night. The sucking mire, the foul odor—the dungeon was starting to suffocate her.
“I saw what you did,” a prisoner cried out. “Set me free and I promise not to tell.”
Cass ignored him, but the prisoner next to him took up the same cry. “We saw it. We all saw. You have to set us free.” Fists pounded on doors. Metal slammed against metal as the prisoners swung their buckets against the grates in the cell doors. If they didn’t stop, a guard patrolling the main floor of the palazzo would surely hear the commotion.
“Be quiet,” she said sharply. “All of you be quiet, or I’ll be dead before I can set anyone free.” It was not exactly a promise—and not a lie, either.
Most of the prisoners quit their banging. The one in the cell next door to Luca pressed his face to the grate, watching her approach.
Siena was struggling with the second dead bolt. Cass used the keys to unlock the door. Leaving the keys to dangle from the lock, she pulled with Siena and the metal rod bit into the wood as the dead bolt swung loose. Luca pushed the door open from the inside.
Again, Cass was amazed at how much he had changed, how pale and gaunt he looked after only a month of being imprisoned. “You shouldn’t have come,” he said.
“Let’s go,” Cass said. She left the keys dangling from the door and used her arms to propel her body through the rising water. Siena and Luca followed. The other prisoners resumed their pounding and screeching.
Cass, Luca, and Siena ran for the stairwell, sloshing through the water. As they climbed the stairs, Cass’s serving dress clung to her skin like hands gripping her, pulling her downward. She had lost one shoe in the murk and hadn’t even realized it. She kicked off her other and went barefoot. Shoes would only weigh her down once they got into the water. Already, her chest felt like it would explode. She could barely breathe.
They hit the Hall of the Three Chiefs running, but before they made it to the servants’ entrance, a guard turned the corner into the south corridor, obstructing their passage.
“Stop!” he called, unsheathing his sword.
Cass spun around, dragging Luca with her. There had to be another door off the long hallway. The water was just on the other side of the wall, and with it, freedom.
The corridor reverberated with shouting—disembodied noises that seemed to rise up from everywhere at once. Cass was too frightened to turn around and see whether they were being pursued, or by how many. She knew more guards would come. An image flashed in her mind: she and Siena locked inside one of the watery prison cells, huddled on her stone bed as the water level rose higher and higher, threatening to overtake them. Another flash. Luca’s body falling, his neck snapping. Cass heard a scream; she wasn’t sure whether the sound was in her head.
“Here!” Luca panted out. They had found another door. Luca struggled to slide back the thick iron rods that held it closed.
And then, Cass realized Siena wasn’t beside her.
Whirling around, Cass saw Siena sprawled out in the hallway. She’d fallen.
No, she’d pretended to fall. As the guard reached her, Siena lashed out at his ankle. Silver glinted in the dim light. The guard stumbled backward in surprise.
“Hurry,” Siena screamed. She was on her feet now, moving sideways, dagger extended. The guard was favoring one leg, but his sword was still six times as long as Siena’s blade. Their dance could have only one ending.
Luca got the door open, and the warm night air rushed in, smelling of salt, of canal water.
“Come on, Siena!” Cass shouted.
Siena flung the dagger at the guard’s face, spinning around as he ducked. But she made it only two steps down the corridor before he was on top of her. It was too fast. His sword flashed behind Siena like lightning. The blade came straight through her front. Siena fell to her knees. A sea of red flowed from her c
hest.
“No!” Cass screamed.
Siena’s body flailed. Her eyes widened, as though in surprise, and her mouth opened. For a second, Cass was sure she would speak.
Then her head rolled forward, and her body went still.
Cass screamed again. She tried to pull her hand from Luca’s. She had to get Siena. Save Siena.
The guard was just a few steps away now. More guards were approaching from another hall, their boots hitting the marble flooring like thunder.
“No, Cass,” Luca said. He pulled her through the door and into the night.
She splintered. Part of her remained inside the Palazzo Ducale. Part of her fell to the floor like Siena. Bleeding. Dead. Floating. Spots of light blurred before her eyes. The ground vanished from beneath her feet. And then there was only water.
“The key to immortality may lie within a chosen sect of humanity.”
—THE BOOK OF THE ETERNAL ROSE
twenty-nine
Shouts ricocheted off the surface of the lagoon, but Cass saw only darkness. All around her. Inside her. Siena. She choked back a sob. Tiny waves lapped against her chin.
“Shh.” A voice, so soft, Cass thought it was speaking straight into her mind.
Luca.
“I’m so sorry, Cass.”
Straight into her heart.
She realized his arms were around her, that their bodies were intertwined beneath the frigid water. He was keeping her afloat. Without him she would sink like a stone, falling until she could go no farther.
Siena.
Cass sobbed again, nearly swallowing a mouthful of icy water. Her vision sharpened. They were in the quay somewhere, west of the Palazzo Ducale, tucked beneath a private dock. Soft clouds of light floated along the darkened canal. Soldiers. Soldiers were searching for them.
Luca pressed his lips to her forehead. “We couldn’t have saved her. This is what she wanted, for you to escape. For you to live.”
“I know.” But the words were hollow; they didn’t mean anything. Luca didn’t know of Siena’s love for him. Cass wasn’t going to tell him. She didn’t want him to share her pain.
Her guilt.
Another sob rippled through her body, which Luca misinterpreted as shivering.
“We’ll get out of the water soon,” he said. “As soon as the search parties spread out.”
Search parties. As if they were going to be rescued instead of executed. “San Giorgio,” Cass whispered. “Sie—” She couldn’t even say Siena’s name. “I left some supplies there. In the woods behind the church.”
“So brave,” Luca murmured. “So smart. I can’t believe you came for me.”
“I couldn’t let you die,” Cass said.
But she had let Siena die. No. Siena had distracted the guard so Cass and Luca could escape. Siena was a hero. Cass hadn’t let Siena do anything. Siena had made her own choice, and it was brave.
Luca touched his lips to the hollow beneath each of Cass’s eyes. Cass realized she was crying again. “Her body,” she whispered. “We need to get her body, somehow.”
“After she’s identified, the palace will return it to Signora Querini,” Luca said.
Cass knew he was right, but that didn’t close the hole in her chest. Through a blur of tears, she watched the glow of lanterns spread out. The sharp sounds of whistles and shouts began to dwindle.
“Can you swim?” Luca asked.
Cass nodded. The Giudecca lay directly across the water, with San Giorgio slightly to the southeast. Both islands were shrouded in darkness, but Cass could easily envision the façade of San Giorgio’s church. She’d passed it hundreds of times on trips back and forth to the Rialto. It took only a few minutes to cross the Giudecca Canal by gondola, but Cass wasn’t sure how long it would take to swim. And there was no place to stop or hide in the middle of the water. If the soldiers headed back toward the Palazzo Ducale before Cass and Luca made it to the shore, they would be discovered.
The idea should have terrified Cass, but she couldn’t stop thinking of Siena. She couldn’t stop seeing her pitch forward onto the floor of the corridor, blonde hair spreading out like a halo, blood flowing freely. It should have been Cass who died. How was she going to explain what had happened to Agnese and Narissa, to Feliciana?
Cass realized, suddenly, that she wouldn’t be able to explain it. She couldn’t exactly send a letter detailing what had happened that night. Siena was a hero, and they might never know it. And she, Cass, might never speak to Agnese or Narissa or Feliciana again.
“Are you ready?” Luca’s arms were still around her, one on the small of her back, one on her waist. Would she sink when the water got deep? She hadn’t gone swimming in years, but Luca couldn’t hold her up and swim the two of them across the water. Cass would have to make it on her own.
She nodded dumbly, and then realized it was probably too dark for Luca to see her. She swallowed hard. “Ready,” she whispered.
Luca grabbed her hand. Strange swirling things beneath the water grabbed at Cass’s ankles as she inched forward with Luca until the edge of the dock was right above their heads. She tightened her grip on his hand and clutched at the wooden mooring post with her other.
She struggled to peel her fingers from the rough, rotted wood. She wasn’t afraid. It was just that relinquishing her hold on the post felt like letting go of everything.
Siena.
Cass craned her neck to the east, back toward the Palazzo Ducale. What was happening? Was Siena still lying in a heap on the ornate marble floor? What if she hadn’t died? What if Cass and Luca had abandoned her to the Doge’s dungeons, to the foul, vermin-infested wells? No. It wasn’t possible. The sword had passed straight through her. Cass had seen the blade emerge from Siena’s chest. She had seen her eyes roll up to heaven, as if she were looking for God to take her.
“Come on, Cass.” Luca guided her toward the open water.
“I can’t,” she whispered.
Luca wrapped his fingers around hers and tugged. The hold broke, and her hand slipped free of the wood.
The current pulled her and Luca quickly apart. Cass reached out for him, but he wasn’t there. Her skirt had wrapped itself around her legs. She couldn’t kick. She couldn’t do anything. Her body started to sink. She tried to remember how to swim. She flailed out with her arms, and succeeded in moving forward, barely, as her dress spiraled her down.
Fighting to keep her head above the surface, she looked for Luca. All she saw was the reflection of moonlight on water and the hazy shorelines that mocked her—so close, so impossibly far.
Cass submerged briefly, then fought to the surface, blinking away murky fluid. And Luca was there, suddenly, a dark form in the water. Beyond him, to the southeast, was San Giorgio Maggiore.
She reached down and freed her legs from her skirt with a vicious rip. Immediately, she felt lighter. She kicked her feet, trying to propel herself through the water.
Luca fought the current to stay by her side. So strong despite his ordeal. He treaded water next to her, his long hair and beard making him look like a stranger in the night. “Are you all right?”
Cass didn’t speak. She couldn’t. The simple fabric of the servant’s outfit was growing heavier with each stroke. She needed to focus, to make it to land.
“I’m all right,” she gasped. “Keep going.”
Luca struggled to stay with her, but the water pulled him away again. Cass tried to follow him, concentrating on the blurry form she thought was San Giorgio Maggiore’s dome, but the stars were swirling in the sky, making her dizzy and disoriented. She felt as if she were going backward toward the Palazzo Ducale instead of forward to freedom.
The current tugged her back and forth. A rogue wave blew up from nowhere, slapping her in the face, pushing her under and causing her to swallow a mouthful of water.
Gagging, she expelled the foul liquid. Her lungs burned. Her throat swelled. She coughed violently for several seconds. Her vision went momentarily dark
. Was she even heading in the right direction anymore? She didn’t know.
It took her a minute and several more strokes of treading water to find the dome of San Giorgio Maggiore again. She reached out and propelled her body forward again, kicking with all her might. The water was cool compared with the warm night air, and her teeth chattered loudly. Her legs sank lower. Each kick was harder than the one before. She was getting tired. So tired. So heavy. Her eyelids fluttered shut. She wasn’t going to make it.
“Luca,” she croaked, as if her mouth were full of sand.
No answer.
Her chin dipped below the water.
And then her foot hit solid ground.
She gasped with relief, collapsing to her knees as the shore materialized beneath her. Her torn skirt and bodice clung to her clammy skin as she crawled onto the land. Stumbling to her feet, she turned to find Luca beside her.
“I knew you’d make it.” He wrapped his arms around her, pushing her wet hair back from her face to kiss her on the cheek. “Grazie a Dio, you’re all right.”
In front of them stood a long stone building, the monastery connected to San Giorgio Maggiore. Tiny square windows ran the length of the wall. All of them were dark.
“Come on,” she said. Luca’s touch seemed to strengthen her. She caught her breath and turned toward the center of the island, toward the trees. She felt as if she were caught in a dream, as if her body were functioning independent of her brain.
With her legs trembling beneath her, Cass crossed the sandy ground in front of the monastery, holding tight to Luca’s hand, until they reached the little patch of woods. Even in the dark, she found her way back to the tree where she had hung the supplies. It was exactly twenty paces from the shoreline, with thick waxy leaves that obscured the leather sack dangling from a low branch.
