Suicide Kings by Christopher J. Ferguson

breathed a sigh of relief.
    “It is unseemly for two young women to be seen about town unescorted. You should return home at once, lest I have a word with your father about your behavior,” the Cardinal reproved, never seeming to notice their pursuers.
    “Yes, of course,” Diana promised. “We’ll head right home.”
    The Cardinal glared and shook his head, but he moved off with his small entourage without further word.
    Siobhan leaned in and whispered, “Weren’t you going to ask him about that nun?”
    Diana shook her head slowly. “Are you mad? I know when not to press my luck.” Even as she said it, it seemed an ironic statement. She looked at Siobhan for a moment, and then they both burst out laughing.
    “I can’t believe we pulled that off,” Siobhan said, wiping one arm across her brow. “You would have gotten a better shot off on Mancini if you hadn’t closed your eyes!”
    “You saw that?” Diana couldn’t help but laugh at herself. “Keep quiet about it, would you? You were fantastic with that stiletto. I’m so glad you came along.”
    “It’s my duty to protect my lady when she’s in danger. If you don’t mind my saying, it might be best to be moving on, should our gentlemen friends double back on us or notice the Cardinal’s left.”
    They moved off quickly, returning back to familiar parts of Firenze.
    “What will our next step be?” asked Siobhan once they seemed to clearly be in safer environs.
    Diana knew their trouble with Mancini wasn’t going to end at the inn. If he’d been willing to kill one Savrano, he’d certainly be willing to go for a second. There would be no backing out now. Only by pressing forward would they find their way out of this mess. “I haven’t had a chance yet to puzzle over what he told us about my mother dying before he could kill her. I’m not sure what to make of that. While we still have daylight, I think we should push ahead though. I’d like to inquire about the nun who died last night.”
    “Very well. Lead on, I’ll be with you,” Siobhan promised. This time when she touched Diana’s arm in a gesture of friendship, Diana didn’t mind the impropriety at all. It was good to have an ally.
    ****
    The convent at Saint Cecilia was set on a low hill overlooking the city of Firenze, close enough to set a shadow on the city, yet far enough away to be removed from its worldly concerns. Saint Cecilia cultivated a reputation as a favored repository of charitable donations from the successful merchants of Firenze. Many of the sisters were daughters from those same families, their dowries to the convent enriching its coffers. Looking about the outer walls of the cloister, Diana remarked to herself, the largesse of the Catholic faithful showed in the design. The buildings and acreage were immaculate and well kept. The grounds were beautiful, shaded by mature cypress and smaller almond and olive trees, although these were now largely bare from winter chills. The main hall towered over them, built from sturdy stone imported from the north, near Verona.
    Although some of the sisters attended vocations in the city, the convent did not encourage outside visitors. Exceptions were made, however. Diana knew that the Savrano family had donated generously to Saint Cecilia. She suspected her mother’s will would contain similar sizable donations in hopes her time in purgatory would be shortened. Of course the family had significant power over the final disputation of a will, particularly that of a woman. Diana felt certain the convent would be disinclined to alienate a member of the family. It didn’t hurt that many in Firenze assumed that Diana had her father’s ear. Diana knew this was because she enjoyed considerable freedom for a young woman, and many assumed this reflected some influence over her father. That reality did not match the rumors was inconsequential. In moments such as these, Diana found it convenient to profit from them.
    As they approached in