CHAPTER 17

From the corner of my eye, I’d seen a patrol of Paratore men, riding around the edge of the castello, just as I thought they would—just as Marcello believed they would too.

Dear God, please bring Marcello to help me! Keep him safe! Keep us all safe!

I bent lower and raced down the path, far faster than was wise. But adrenaline and hope combined to make me feel strong, as if I could see in the dark. Again and again, I urged my horse to leap stones and logs, making me believe it was true.

That was right before I turned the corner and a low-lying branch caught me across my chest.

Pride goeth before the fall, and all that. Yeah, yeah, I knew. I was foolish.

But it didn’t register with me, of course, until I lay on my back, staring up through the trees at the bits and pieces of the moon, partially covered by leaves, fighting for breath.

This is what it feels like to be Fortino.

Mentally I cataloged my body, trying each limb as I waited for my breath to return. I was looking at my fingers, flexing before my face, trying not to panic, when I felt the rumble of horse hooves on the path.

Horses, coming my way.

I surged over to my right, rolling once, twice, until I was under a low-hanging bush as two men on horseback raced past me. They pulled up ahead and turned back. I groaned inwardly, just taking my third breath. They’d seen me. I forced myself to rise and draw my sword, still willing my breathing to return to normal. Again, I thought of Fortino and found myself whispering a prayer to God that he might be breathing still.

The men came into view down the path, and I pressed back among the trees.

“Gabriella?” the first said, and I frowned.

I edged out. “Marcello?”

He rode closer then. “Are you running to Castello Paratore?”

“Do not ask,” I said, sheathing my sword again. He surged forward, reaching for my arm and using the momentum to swing me up behind him. I looked over my shoulder at Luca and grinned. I wrapped my arms around Marcello, so glad he was alive, so glad I wasn’t alone.

How had they managed to escape and get to me so quickly? Were the Sienese already surrounding Castello Forelli, capturing the Paratore forces? I hoped so; but I was most glad they were there, with me. Ready to help me find my sister.

Marcello tensed and looked back at Luca. Luca stayed deadly still and then nodded once. I heard it then too.

More riders were coming. And they weren’t ours.

 

We rode hard, then suddenly veered off on a narrow path I was fairly certain didn’t lead to Castello Paratore. We came out on a sandbar, farther up the creek than the normal crossing, and waited in the thick brush that lined the banks. Six knights on horses crossed a ways down, their mounts sending water flying into the air—a thousand droplets catching the moonlight. It was almost beautiful, terrifying and gorgeous at the same time. And surreal. Because they were obviously hunting, chasing us.

Luca looked over at Marcello. “No one saw us escape. I’m certain of it.”

Marcello tensed. I could feel his torso contract, his breathing hesitate. “Then they’re after Gabriella.”

“Me?”

“Yes,” he said simply. “Paratore has sent them to fetch you because you double-crossed him.” Memories of Paratore and Vannucci’s threats rang in my mind.

“We cannot let them reach the castle,” Luca said lowly. “If they do, they shall warn the guards, and Gabriella shall never free her sister, only find herself captured.”

Marcello twisted in his saddle so fast, lifting me to the ground, I didn’t have time to react. Thick creek pebbles met my feet, and I stumbled a bit backward, against a scrub oak. “Hide, Gabriella. We’ll be back for you as fast as we can.”

Without waiting for my response, he pressed his mount into action, and he and Luca were off.

I bit back my indignation, the desire to call out his name, insist he return for me. Luca was right, of course. Our only hope was that they could overtake the men, surprise them and somehow kill or capture all six. And they couldn’t do that with the weight of two people on one mount.

Two against six. Fortes fortuna adiuvat. They’re probably reveling in those odds, I thought, pacing back and forth. Idiots. Brave, wonderful, idiots.

They considered me more a liability than an ally, which was probably right. But they didn’t know that, for sure. They didn’t know it.

I picked up my skirts, pulled off my slippers and moved across the creek bed, wincing as the rocks bit into my feet. On the other side, I dried my feet with my skirt and pulled on the slippers again, then set off running, moving to the main path, knowing it was upon that one that my men would engage their enemies. I settled into a steady jog, not wanting to become too winded. But that was hard with the sword on my back. Carrying an extra thirty-pound sword was like weighing thirty more pounds yourself. I felt like I’d been sitting around all summer, watching TV, eating Twinkies. And I was dying now that I had decided to go out for cross-country.

Not that I’d ever gone out for cross-country. I liked to hike. Not run for miles until I was in pain. But still I pressed on. Perhaps I could sneak in, take one man down, help Marcello and Luca before they even knew I was there. I had to do something. Hide, he had said. Hide! This was not a night for hiding. It was a night to scream, “Bring it on!” to the entire valley and then prepare for the onslaught.

Yeah, a part of me really wanted to hide. But I ignored it.

I caught my breath as I eased down a hill and when I rounded the corner, I could hear men calling out and swords clashing. I doubled my pace, then pulled up short, studying the battlefield. Three men were on the ground already, obviously dead, one with his head at a grotesque angle. Two were advancing upon Marcello. Luca and the third knight moved toward me, their swords clanging again and again. Slowly, I drew my dagger out.

They still hadn’t seen me. Luca was tiring; I could see it in the speed of his sword as it rose to meet the enemy’s. The man’s sword sliced through the air three times in quick succession, and Luca spun away from the last a second too late. The sword tip lanced his upper arm, and he cried out. The man did not break from his attack, whirling, preparing to bring the full weight of his sword into Luca’s neck or torso.

I didn’t think. I bent and lunged, dagger in hand, exactly at the moment his belly was most exposed.

He crumpled to his side, clutching the dagger and gasping.

Luca stepped forward and ended his misery, eyed me a moment, then turned toward Marcello.

I ran behind him, drawing my sword from my back sheath. We saw Marcello, then, wrestling on the ground, barely holding off a knight’s dagger, an inch from his throat as another knight hovered, waiting to strike. The second turned when he heard our approach. Luca climbed a small boulder and leaped toward him, a bloodcurdling cry bursting from his throat.

I cried out too, as the dagger touched Marcello’s skin and blood glimmered in the moonlight. I swung my broadsword in an arc, missing cutting off the man’s head, but managing to nick his neck.

He screamed and rolled off of Marcello, clutching his neck in shock, but it was clearly no use. Blood spurted everywhere. He’d be dead in moments.

Dimly, I realized that Luca was nearing us, no sounds of pursuit behind him.

Marcello rose, clutching his side. “Gabriella,” he said, grabbing my shoulder and studying my face as if he was trying to read my thoughts in the moonlight. “Are you all right?”

But I could only stare at the other man, now choking on his own blood. Had I done that? Really? Me? My head swirled in a sickening mix of horror and fury.

“Turn away, Gabriella,” Marcello said, moving between me and my victim when I did not obey. He pressed my head to his chest as we heard the man emit a horrible gurgling sound and fall, face-first, to the ground.

Luca stepped up beside us and laid a hand on my back. “The She-Wolf of Siena,” he said proudly. “Saved my neck too.”

Marcello laughed lowly and then lifted my chin. “I told you to stay behind. It would’ve been far safer.” He lifted one brow. “But Luca and I might’ve died without you. You must keep yourself together, She-Wolf. Think of Evangelia.” His voice hardened. “There is certain to be more bloodshed ahead. Are you prepared?”

“Yes,” I mumbled.

He shook me, trying to break me from my stupor.

“I like having her behind us,” Luca quipped. “No one expects one so beautiful to be a wolf on the attack.”

“They know of her strength, those ahead of us,” Marcello said. “Do not think you can surprise them, Gabriella. You must go in poised to kill. Understand me?”

I swallowed hard. I’d just killed two men, two men who were someone’s sons, someone’s husbands, someone’s brothers—

“I will leave you here,” he said gruffly, almost shouting at me while trying to keep his voice down. “God help me, I will tie you up here, if you don’t show me you can tolerate this. Must I do that?”

We stood nose to nose, glaring at each other.

“No,” I managed.

He released me, still clearly angry, but I knew it was the kind of fury that grew from fear. He was afraid for me. Women didn’t go to war, in this time. Joan of Arc probably hadn’t been born yet in France. And yet here I was…and suddenly, I was regretting it. If only I hadn’t put my hand on that terrible print. If only Lia hadn’t done the same.…

Water splashed over my face, and I sputtered and blinked.

Luca took a swig from his water spleen and smiled at me. He cocked his head, and his eyes narrowed, as if remembering something. “It’s a shock, that first time, to kill a man. But keep in mind, they were about to kill me. And Marcello.”

I looked to Marcello, who was binding a cloth around his bleeding neck. Blood spread across the sleeve of Luca’s upper arm. And then I remembered.

This was war. It was us versus them. To live or die.

They would not show me mercy.

And neither could I.