her lips. “Allegedly.”
Cass sighed deeply. There would be no changing Feliciana’s
mind, at least not tonight. She didn’t know if Feliciana really believed in Dubois’s innocence or if she was picking a fight because
Cass had judged her sharply for returning to her old employer. Cass
didn’t care. She just wanted to protect her former handmaid. She
didn’t think of her as a servant anymore, she realized. She thought of
her as a friend. “Stay with me. Don’t go back to Palazzo Dubois. It
isn’t safe for you.”
Feliciana arched an eyebrow. “And here I thought perhaps you’d
be pleased. That you’d ask me to do a little investigating for you.
Listen in for whispers about the Order.”
“I would never ask you to risk your life to further my personal
agenda,” Cass said.
“Wouldn’t you?” Two words. So much pain.
All this anger was about Siena, Cass knew it, and maybe she deserved it. “Listen,” Cass started. “Come back to San Domenico with
me so we can talk. I’ll tell you the rest of what happened. I’ll tell you
everything, even words your sister said to me in confidence. Whatever it takes to help you get through this.”
A burst of music intruded on their private moment. Beyond the
clothesline, a group of men appeared, shouting to one another and
strumming lutes. They wore bright green and purple clothing and
large hats adorned with peacock feathers. If they were worried about
the weather, they didn’t show it.
“Follow them,” Feliciana said. “They’re heading to the Piazza
San Marco for the Feast of Saints Peter and Paul. You might find a
fisherman there who’s spent all his money and needs a fare to the islands.”
“But you—”
“I can’t go with you. Joseph has some . . . duties for me tonight,”
Feliciana replied. “I wish you and Luca luck in whatever future you
decide. If I were you, I’d leave this place. Forget about the Order.
Save yourselves. ”
Cass felt heat behind her eyes. She chewed her lower lip. “Will I
see you again?” she asked.
“I’m sure you will, if you want to.” Feliciana smiled tightly, her
own eyes misting up. “The world seems to enjoy giving you whatever
you wish.”
With that, she ducked past the line of flapping chemises and vanished into the night.
Whatever she wished? Dead parents? Dead Siena? Dead Agnese?
Feliciana was speaking out of anger and loss. She didn’t mean that—
she couldn’t. Cass prayed her friend would forgive her, eventually,
but she couldn’t dwell on it at the moment. She had to find her way
back to San Domenico.
To Luca.
Hoping that the rain would hold off, Cass strolled quickly through
the darkening streets, following the musicians from the Castello district to the San Polo district to the San Marco district.
Fear shot through her as she approached Piazza San Marco. She
had not set foot in the piazza since the day she and Siena broke into
the Doge’s dungeons. Cressets mounted around the perimeter bathed
the area in dancing gold light. Nobles and peasants alike were out
in the middle of the square, spinning and swaying to music played by
bards and courtesans. Gypsies clad in brightly colored skirts swirled
through the masses, peddling protective amulets and brilliant
scarves. A handful of soldiers dotted the crowd, but they seemed to
have joined in the reveling, their helmets tossed carelessly to the
ground, their swords and daggers safely sheathed.
A flash of lightning lit up the water behind the Palazzo Ducale,
but everyone continued to dance, unworried about the impending
storm. Giant cloth banners depicting different crests whipped back
and forth in the wind. Cass had been to the Feast of Saints Peter and
Paul only once, when she was a girl still living with her parents on the
Rialto. They had taken her out into the crowded streets and let her
dance to the music before bedtime.
Then it had seemed like a merry, happy festival with dancing
smiling grown-ups, all of whom
Cass sighed deeply. There would be no changing Feliciana’s
mind, at least not tonight. She didn’t know if Feliciana really believed in Dubois’s innocence or if she was picking a fight because
Cass had judged her sharply for returning to her old employer. Cass
didn’t care. She just wanted to protect her former handmaid. She
didn’t think of her as a servant anymore, she realized. She thought of
her as a friend. “Stay with me. Don’t go back to Palazzo Dubois. It
isn’t safe for you.”
Feliciana arched an eyebrow. “And here I thought perhaps you’d
be pleased. That you’d ask me to do a little investigating for you.
Listen in for whispers about the Order.”
“I would never ask you to risk your life to further my personal
agenda,” Cass said.
“Wouldn’t you?” Two words. So much pain.
All this anger was about Siena, Cass knew it, and maybe she deserved it. “Listen,” Cass started. “Come back to San Domenico with
me so we can talk. I’ll tell you the rest of what happened. I’ll tell you
everything, even words your sister said to me in confidence. Whatever it takes to help you get through this.”
A burst of music intruded on their private moment. Beyond the
clothesline, a group of men appeared, shouting to one another and
strumming lutes. They wore bright green and purple clothing and
large hats adorned with peacock feathers. If they were worried about
the weather, they didn’t show it.
“Follow them,” Feliciana said. “They’re heading to the Piazza
San Marco for the Feast of Saints Peter and Paul. You might find a
fisherman there who’s spent all his money and needs a fare to the islands.”
“But you—”
“I can’t go with you. Joseph has some . . . duties for me tonight,”
Feliciana replied. “I wish you and Luca luck in whatever future you
decide. If I were you, I’d leave this place. Forget about the Order.
Save yourselves. ”
Cass felt heat behind her eyes. She chewed her lower lip. “Will I
see you again?” she asked.
“I’m sure you will, if you want to.” Feliciana smiled tightly, her
own eyes misting up. “The world seems to enjoy giving you whatever
you wish.”
With that, she ducked past the line of flapping chemises and vanished into the night.
Whatever she wished? Dead parents? Dead Siena? Dead Agnese?
Feliciana was speaking out of anger and loss. She didn’t mean that—
she couldn’t. Cass prayed her friend would forgive her, eventually,
but she couldn’t dwell on it at the moment. She had to find her way
back to San Domenico.
To Luca.
Hoping that the rain would hold off, Cass strolled quickly through
the darkening streets, following the musicians from the Castello district to the San Polo district to the San Marco district.
Fear shot through her as she approached Piazza San Marco. She
had not set foot in the piazza since the day she and Siena broke into
the Doge’s dungeons. Cressets mounted around the perimeter bathed
the area in dancing gold light. Nobles and peasants alike were out
in the middle of the square, spinning and swaying to music played by
bards and courtesans. Gypsies clad in brightly colored skirts swirled
through the masses, peddling protective amulets and brilliant
scarves. A handful of soldiers dotted the crowd, but they seemed to
have joined in the reveling, their helmets tossed carelessly to the
ground, their swords and daggers safely sheathed.
A flash of lightning lit up the water behind the Palazzo Ducale,
but everyone continued to dance, unworried about the impending
storm. Giant cloth banners depicting different crests whipped back
and forth in the wind. Cass had been to the Feast of Saints Peter and
Paul only once, when she was a girl still living with her parents on the
Rialto. They had taken her out into the crowded streets and let her
dance to the music before bedtime.
Then it had seemed like a merry, happy festival with dancing
smiling grown-ups, all of whom
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