So my folks…yeah. Not so down with the idea as we were. You know, putting our lives at stake, possibly being tortured, imprisoned, torn apart forever, killed—basically things that made every parent’s Do Not Allow list.
Mom finally convinced Dad to let us go—“These men have risked so much to save our girls”—but there was one requirement: They insisted on coming along. Which was pretty much the last thing I wanted. Now I’d be concentrating as much on keeping them safe as on freeing Fortino. Mom was wicked good with her staff, and Dad was out of his dream-fog and decent with the sword, but the fact was, the more of us who went, the harder it would be to get us all back alive. I didn’t like it. But I didn’t have a lot of choices.
Several days later we headed out of Siena at sunrise—ungodly early—toward Sansicino, a high hill town to the east of Toscana, in the traitorous republic that had aided Firenze during the battle but now maintained a “neutral status.”
Yeah right, like you guys get to pretend you’re just sitting it out…
But it was what it was. I was so excited that we were finally on the move, on our way to rescue Fortino, that the first few hours of our ride slid by. As agreed with Firenze, we left with only twenty-four men, including Marcello and Luca, my dad, and the Three Amigos from the piazza, as I’d dubbed them—Signores Salvatori, Bastiani, and Bonaduce. The Fiorentini were to arrive with no more than that either. If they played by the rules.
Sansicino had been chosen because it was a hill town, on a mount so high that their “drawbridge” was basically a half-mile-long true bridge that led to the city gates. It made her amazingly defensible, and enemies could be seen from miles away. Our plan was basic: We’d make the exchange, then our guys would bust Lia and me loose, and we’d all rappel off the side of the castle to the hill below the wall and join up with our men—plus reinforcements. To say that that Marcello and Luca were amazed that my mom was willing to fling herself over the edge too would be an understatement. I practically had to give them CPR.
“Daring is in their blood,” Luca said, admiring Lia, me, and our mom.
“You don’t know the half of it,” Dad put in. I laughed at him. We’d pretty much always been the good girls, in the background, all our years with him. But he’d recognized that we’d grown up and changed, and he’d grasped some of who we’d become since being here. And he clearly admired it.
Mom and I had packed a basket full of medical supplies, hoping the Fiorentini would allow us to see to Fortino’s wounds even while the men were still in negotiation. I shuddered every time I thought of Fortino with an eye gone. But I hoped that would be the very worst we would have to deal with. I’d heard servants whispering of repeated floggings. That he’d almost died last year before Lord Greco stepped in and placed him in his own dungeon cell. But he’d recently been taken back to the city prison, and things had obviously gotten much, much worse.
What if we had taken longer to return? What if we never had? If the rumors were true, I could only picture Fortino dying. Cold, alone, tortured by infected wounds…It was such a terrible picture that I could hardly think of anything but freeing him. I remembered his smile, how close he had been to death when I first arrived, how he had been returned to us, almost as shockingly as my dad had been. In those days and weeks he had become a brother to me. And he’d fought for us, for Marcello, for Siena. We owed him. We all owed him.
“You know that it will mean another battle, if we take Fortino and escape,” I said, for the hundredth time.
“I’m well aware of it, Gabriella,” Marcello said, “as are the rest of the Nine. We are prepared to again defend ourselves—and our She-Wolves.”
“I only want to know you’re prepared.”
He and Luca shared a small smile. “We are,” Marcello said calmly.
“Are they gonna let us in on their plan?” Lia grumbled.
Both men stared forward, self-satisfied expressions on their faces.
“I don’t think so,” I said.
We spent the night at a villa tantalizingly close to Castello Forelli and then skirted her lands on our way up to Sansicino. It was raining like crazy, and we tried to keep oilskin capes over our heads and clothing to stay somewhat dry, but I was shivering. Seriously, my teeth were chattering and everything.
Georgii and Lutterius, who were twins—something of a novelty in this time—rode ahead, scouting for enemies that might be hidden about. They seemed more like big, friendly Labrador puppies than knights, and I worried for them. “What if they run into a trap?” I asked Luca.
He shrugged. “It is a scout’s duty to be aware, to spot what others cannot.”
For as much time as I’d been here, I still wasn’t quite used to the medieval Tuscan man’s way of thinking. It was so dang harsh. We might as well have been with a group of Special Ops guys assigned to ferret out rebels among the caves of Afghanistan. My hope was that we’d get over this hurdle and actually experience life like Marcello had imagined—settling down, finding peace. But was that a realistic hope while Castello Forelli remained in enemy hands?
Not likely.
I didn’t know what Georgii and Lutterius hoped to see—we could barely see more than fifty feet ahead of us, given the fog and the pounding rain. Any prints on the road that might give them clues would surely be washed away. Whatever. I wasn’t going to ask Marcello to call them back. I knew it’d be fruitless.
So we rode on through the rain and muck, with mud splattering up from the horses’ hooves to their bellies—and our dresses. I fought the urge to whine, “When are we gonna get there?” But I really wanted to know.
When Marcello drew closer, he gave me an encouraging smile. “As fine as this weather is, you’ll be glad to know we’re only an hour from Sansicino’s bridge.”
I sighed in relief. “Very good, m’lord. At least we’ll be able to change into dry clothing and sit by a warm fire.”
“Indeed.”
Men’s shouting, muted by the rain, brought both of our heads forward. Someone was coming. Fast.
Marcello had just barked his warning and the men were on the move, taking defensive positions, when a man on a massive gray gelding rounded the bend of the road, spraying water and mud with every hoofbeat. Right behind him were Georgii and Lutterius, swords drawn, faces—normally alight with mischief—now filled with fury.
The men at the front had no time to meet his charge, only to stand and ready themselves for a strike. We were relatively confident, given our twenty-four to his one, but did he have companions close behind?
But he never drew his sword. He simply charged by our line of horses and yelled, “Consiglia loro di cessare l’inseguimento, Marcello!” as he did. Tell them to cease their pursuit!
Marcello looked after him, wheeling his horse around so that he was between me and the newcomer, as did Luca with Lia and Dad with Mom. But then he yelled, “Hold!” and lifted his fist in a sign that echoed the command.
The twins immediately peeled off to either side of us and brought their mounts to a stop. Everyone else maintained his position.
The man on the massive gelding pulled up on his reins, then slowly turned and looked at us all. He removed his own oiled hood and urged his skittish horse forward. He was a bit hard to make out through the pounding rain, but after a few steps Marcello laughed, then urged his horse toward the man. They met and clasped arms, speaking and turning to look our way.
Then I recognized him. Greco. It was Lord Rodolfo Greco.
Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome.
Dangerous as all get-out and just as confusing.
The man who had tracked me down. Brought me to Firenze, before the grandi. Slapped me before them. Then fed me. Bound me and put me in a cage. And then helped Marcello free me.
“Gabi, is that—?” Lia began.
“Yeah. It’s him,” I said, licking my lips. I wished I had a canteen of water. Of the nice metallic, Girl Scout variety. Not the repurposed animal skin that made me never want to drink again. I sighed. Dying of thirst while drowning in a sea of rain.
Rodolfo and Marcello turned to face me. “We’ll rest here for a moment. Take shelter under those trees,” Marcello said. We moved toward them, but finding relief from the rain under them was kind of fruitless. The old oaks were massive, so the limbs gave us some partial breaks, but they weren’t the same as in the summer, when fully leafed.
“Lady Gabriella,” Rodolfo said, nodding toward me. “Lady Evangelia,” he added to my sister.
“Lord Greco,” she said. Appropriately. But I couldn’t seem to say anything. Dry throat, I thought. But in truth I wasn’t yet ready to speak to the man.
When Marcello dropped to the mat of dead leaves and grass at his feet and then turned to me, I braced myself. It made sense, if we were breaking. He wanted me off the horse and closer to him. He studied me, concern in his eyes. “You are well?” he asked quietly.
“Well as I can be,” I returned in kind. “Marcello, I know he helped you free me…but he is also the same man who captured me and dragged me into Firenze behind his horse.”
The muscles in Marcello’s cheek tensed. “What? Surely he did not—”
“He did.”
Marcello stared into my eyes and then pulled me around to the other side of my mare, where we could speak more privately. “You never spoke of it.”
“You never asked!” I sighed. “Marcello, there was hardly time for us. We were in constant battle, from the time you freed me to the time I left.”
“And yet you said nothing as we made these plans to bring you here.”
“It hardly seemed appropriate. You had greater things to be concerned about. And I…I didn’t think it would be him. Here.”
“What is greater than your welfare? Do you…can you not trust him, Gabriella? Based on my testimony?”
I closed my eyes. “I do not know, Marcello. You said yourself that he had to pretend a certain amount in order that the grandi would not know he was a Sienese sympathizer.” I thought of the Rossis, of them all hanging from a rope, their necks at odd angles, feet dangling, and I shuddered. If Rodolfo was our friend, he was taking a grave risk indeed.
“We need to hear him out. And in the end, he did help us rescue you. Without him we would’ve never made it out of Firenze.”
I nodded. “You’re right, of course. It’s only foolish, idle memories getting in my way.”
“Not foolish,” he said, lifting my chin. “It was terrible, what you endured.”
“Stay with me. Please, Marcello—”
“Say no more, my love.” He wrapped an arm around my waist and led me over to the rest of the group. Luca was regaling my parents with the tale of my rescue, and they looked at him, Lia, and Rodolfo in wide-eyed wonder. He paused in his tale when we neared, and Rodolfo stepped forward.
“M’lady,” he said, ducking his head.
I dipped my head in response. “Lord Greco,” was all I said.
“Are you quite well?”
“Well enough. I am weary of the road and this relentless rain. What news do you bring?”
He cocked a brow and straightened. “Relentless is the correct term. But I must get back to my men before they become concerned. They believe I am in the cottage of an old friend, warming myself by the fire.” He smiled. Even soaking wet, he was one of the most handsome men I’d ever seen. After Marcello, of course. There was a raw power in him that both drew and repelled me.
“You sneaked away?” Luca asked.
“Indeed. But I must leave shortly, or our plan will fall apart.”
“Understood,” Marcello said. “What must we know?”
“The grandi have charged me with bringing back the Ladies Betarrini. I assume you won’t allow us to exit Sansicino, let alone enter Firenze’s gates, with them in hand.”
“Across my dead body,” Marcello said.
“And mine,” Luca echoed.
“As I knew it would be,” Rodolfo said. He shook his head. “And yet Lord Fortino might not live through the night. I left him in the cottage of my friend, by the fire, but he is in dire shape,” he said, sorrow and warning in his thickly lashed brown eyes.
“Can we go to him? See to him?” I asked. “We have supplies and—”
“Nay. ’Tis impossible. And my friend is doing what he can for him. But be forewarned, my friends. With him in your care, escape may prove impossible.”
“We shall manage,” Marcello said. “We have no choice but to try.”
“And if you’re caught?” Rodolfo pressed, wiping his face of rain and flinging it aside. “The men of Sansicino shall be obliged to imprison you, hand you all over to the Fiorentini for not honoring the agreement.”
“We shall not be caught,” Luca said.
But Marcello remained silent. He was clearly thinking about us with Fortino now. Two men would have to haul him in a blanket and be protected themselves—
“You assisted me in our escape,” I said, “when I was little more than dead weight. We can do the same with Fortino.”
“But you merely needed food, water. Rest. Fortino…”
“As you said, we have little choice.”
Marcello stared at me for a long moment and then looked to Rodolfo. “We shall conduct our negotiations and attempt to escape the trade—but you obviously knew that.”
“Offer a treasure for Fortino,” Rodolfo said, as clear on how this was going to play out as Marcello himself seemed to be.
“The negotiations will drag on until nightfall, and when the opportunity is right—”
“You shall make your escape,” Rodolfo finished for him. He looked around at all of us. “Stay clear of me. I shall look like nothing but your worst enemy and, in battle, be forced to cut down any within my reach.”
“As you must,” Marcello said. “Thank you for coming to us. For all you’ve done to keep Fortino alive…” His voice broke, and he looked away, blinking rapidly, then took a deep breath. “I would very much like to say farewell to him, if I cannot save him.”
“I shall do my very best to see that you can.” Rodolfo clasped Marcello’s hand, and they looked into each other’s eyes as old friends. “You know that this will incite yet another great battle between our two cities.”
Marcello slowly smiled. “Mayhap I’ll retrieve the castle that was stolen from me when it’s done.”
“I do not know if you will want it back.” Rodolfo smiled in return. “I hear she again has a most terrible neighbor.”
Cosmo Paratore, he meant. I shivered at the thought of the man who had threatened Lia so. The man who wanted to kill me. The man whose ears I’d ordered cut from his head.
I hoped he stayed in Firenze, where he belonged.