CHAPTER 21

A servant knocked on my door, awakening me from my nap. The bath had pretty much wiped me out.

Lia went to the door and was speaking in hushed tones, but I said, “Wait. Who is it?”

She glanced back at me with a worried expression. “Lord Fortino,” she said in a low tone.

“Let him in,” I said, closing my eyes.

I could feel her hesitation. She was worried about me, getting so tired.

“I’m fine, Lia. Let him in,” I whispered. I willed myself to turn over and then push myself to a sitting position, turning away so Fortino couldn’t see my face, riddled with pain, as I did so.

When I turned back, I saw him, halfway across the room, leaning heavily on the arm of his servant. “Lord Fortino,” I said, “you shouldn’t have taxed yourself so.”

His eyes, beneath concerned brows, went from my torso to my face, which was covered in sweat. “Pay me no heed, dear lady. I fear it is you I tax. Shall I leave?”

“No. Come, come. Please.” I glanced at the volume beneath his armpit. “You visit to share a bit of the poet with me?”

“Indeed,” he said. The servant pulled a chair beside my bed, and Fortino sat down on it. I could hear the wheeze in his breathing.

“At least you fare better than when last I saw you,” I said.

He gave me a rueful smile. “I bear no wound of battle, just those that God has allowed me to bear within my lungs.”

I reached out and put my hand on his arm. “It is enough.”

He patted my hand and looked at me fondly. “Lady Gabriella, you did so much for me, my family, Siena. We are eternally grateful to you and your fair sister.” His eyes shifted to Lia, but she had turned to fiddle with the herbs and bandages on the table.

I smiled. “We only did what we could. Truth be told, we were fighting to free Evangelia more than anything. I fear Siena’s future is something I have not given much thought.”

He lifted his brows and nodded, understanding. “Most women do not think of such things. But fortunately for us, our intentions aligned.” He raised the golden volume. “Shall we?”

I nodded, leaning my head back against the goose-feather pillow and closed my eyes. Fortino began to read, his voice surprisingly strong, and yet pausing often for him to catch his breath. We were in the midst of the Inferno, the part in which Dante and Virgil climbed out of the hellish underworld to find themselves on an island called Purgatorio, somewhere between heaven and hell. “‘To get back up to the shining world from there,’” Fortino read, “‘My guide and I went into that hidden tunnel; Where we came forth, and once more saw the stars.’”

My eyes sprang open. “Please. Read that last line again.”

“‘My guide and I went into that hidden tunnel; Where we came forth, and once more saw the stars.’” He lowered the book and stared at me. “What is it that captures you so, m’lady?”

I couldn’t really tell Fortino what I was thinking. I’d had a crazy thought that maybe Dante, once here, in this very castle, had traveled through time and space himself in the tomb. The tunnel, the passage…could he not have seen much more than a distant time? Perhaps even a different space, world? Heaven? Hell?

I shivered, hoping that was not what was at the end of that tomb’s tunnel.

When I remained silent, Fortino said, “It is a remarkable turn for our hero. Here, he begins his true trek toward salvation.”

A cough at the door made us both turn. Marcello. He smiled at me, clearly glad to see that I was clean and changed, looking as if I felt better even if I was miserably tired. He stepped forward and took a seat at the foot of my bed. “The image is evocative because Dante has seen the depths of hell, and now he’s glimpsed heaven.”

I shifted uneasily, because Marcello’s eyes were intently on me. Fortino was staring at him, then me, then his brother again.

“He’s on his way toward Beatrice, our heroine, and God. In the midst of such darkness, he’s seen the light. The stars.”

I knew he was trying to speak to me, reach me, through the double meaning of his speech. Fortino clearly heard it too. He mumbled an excuse, bent to kiss my hand, and departed, with Lia on his heels, leaving us alone.

Marcello moved to kneel beside my bed and took my hand in both of his. “Forgive me for my absence, Gabriella.” He stood, hunched over, and kissed my brow—a slightly disappointing move since it’d been a week since we kiss-kissed, but sweet. He was still treating me as if I was made of glass. “In truth, I have thought of little other than you, but there is much to attend to, with the feast upon us on the morrow. And neither my father nor Fortino is prepared for such a task. My day has been spent with cooks and bakers and vintners and falconers and dignitaries, all swirling in plans for our grand meals and festivities over the next days.”

I nodded, but I lifted my eyes to meet his. “’Tis truly necessary? Could we not allow Siena their festivities…in Siena?”

He smiled and turned his head, repositioning his hands over mine. “We represent the front lines. ’Twould not do for us to do anything but celebrate this victory, and loudly.”

I nodded and then looked to my thick blanket and wondered if I had the guts to ask what must come next. I plunged onward. “Marcello, what became of Lord Paratore and Lord Vannucci?” I remembered nothing more of that night, and I hadn’t had the nerve to ask Lia. She clearly was in denial about that whole night.

“Both are imprisoned in Siena.” His eyes flicked away, to the window. “Most likely they shall be traded at some point for one or two men we wish to free. But with tensions so high, it may be some time.”

I nodded, as if happy to know of their fate, but in that instant, I knew I wished them dead and gone.

His hands gripped mine. “Gabriella, ’tis the way the Nine wished it to go.”

“I understand.” I raised my eyes to meet his. “But the thought of either of them, free…” I shook my head. “Given what they’ve seen, what they’ve experienced, Lia and I are as much enemy to them as you and Luca.”

He blinked his heavy lashes and then nodded once. “Indeed. It is a grave danger. But I do not foresee them ever threatening you again. They shall be exiled or traded, deep into Florentine territory. Or put to death.”

Put to death. Hanged. Dismembered. Drawn and quartered. Death was a bloody business in medieval times.

I wanted to feel a measure of compassion for them. I wanted to hope that the exile card won out, but I knew that selfishly, I was hoping they would die, never to be a concern for me and Lia again.

“Gabriella, we must speak of something else.”

My eyes moved to his.

“Lady Rossi and her family are arriving on the morrow.”

I studied him, waiting. Knowing I should take him off the hook, release him of responsibility, tell him I was on my way out, that it couldn’t really work between the two of us.

“I shall break our pledge, make it clear to both Lady Rossi and her father that no union shall be formed between our families.”

I frowned, even though my heart pounded with hope. It was not good for Marcello to end his plans with Romana. She wouldn’t go down without a fight; she’d try to bring me down with her. If I can’t have him, neither can you. We’d all suffer her wrath, her father’s wrath.

Marcello was feeling strong, invincible even, after our capture of Castello Paratore, and perhaps it would afford him some protection amid Sienese politics. But didn’t he need every protection possible? If Firenze was to attack, they would surely target a point such as Castello Forelli first. And Castello Forelli needed to know they could rely on reinforcements from Siena. That Siena had their back. Without a marriage between the Forellis and the Rossis, was that truly possible?

Marcello was studying me. “M’lady, do you doubt me? Doubt my fervor for you?” He stroked my forehead, cheek, and stared into my eyes with such love, it set my heart pounding. “’Tis not simply what I owe you as a man loyal to Siena. ’Tis what I owe you as a man. Gabriella,” he said, looking intensely into my eyes, “you own my heart. My life, and all I have in it. You have captured me, m’lady, like no one else. My hours are spent absorbed in thoughts of you, dreams of you. I cannot imagine a life without you in it. Might I dare believe that you would leave Normandy for good? To remain here, with me?”

I stared at him, stricken. There was so much to figure out, ahead of us. “Marcello, you draw me as none other. But I am still pulled by the desire to find my mother, and Evangelia—” I sighed. “She is desperate to continue our search for our mother. I must see to my family’s reunion before I can legitimately consider my future. I am certain you understand.”

I appealed to his sense of honor, family. And it worked.

“Indeed. I must assist you in this endeavor, for I intend to speak to your mother.”

I looked at him sharply. What? How in the heck was that supposed to work out? “Hey, Mom, I want to meet you my Handsome Prince from 1332.”

He narrowed his eyes in my direction and lowered his forehead. “If we are to continue our courting, I must gain her approval,” he whispered.

Ahh, yes. Courting. Going out, in medieval terms. Sweetly conducted with everything in order. Would Lord Forelli bless his younger son’s pursuit? When there was not one whit of political gain to be found from it? Unlikely.

The only thing we had going for us was that Lord Forelli seemed pretty out of it since his last stroke. I doubted he’d even fully absorbed the victory over Castello Paratore.

But if he came to his senses, this news of Marcello breaking his pledge to Lady Rossi and pursuing me would truly send him over the edge. He’d have a full-on heart attack, keel over, and die for sure.

And it’d be on my head.

“I do not know, Marcello,” I said, dragging my eyes to meet his. Stick to the truth, Gabi. “What is between us in unmistakable. In truth, I’ve never felt anything like it.” I looked at him for a long moment. “But both our families look to us to sustain them, into the future. They rely upon us. Promises between us cannot yet be made.”

He frowned and looked at me as if he had not heard me right. “Are you saying…Gabriella, are you saying that you do not want me to break my pledge to Romana?”

It took me a long time, but I finally found the words to say it. “No. Marcello, I want you to break your pledge. Because selfishly, I want you for myself. But I cannot ask it of you. You are a future lord of Siena. And I do not know where I belong, here or Normandy.”

“Here,” he said, squeezing my hands, “you belong here.”

I shook my head miserably. “I do not know that. I wish I did. But I do not.”

His eyes filled with sorrow. “You do not know it? How must I prove it to you?”

“Ah, Marcello. It is not up to you,” I said, reaching up to cradle his cheek this time. “I understand your feelings for me. My heart echoes them. But I need to know we are doing what is right. Or not. That makes me hesitate. I need time. More time.”

“I have no more time,” he said in desperation. “She arrives on the morrow.”

“Then you must carry on as before,” I said. “For the sake of your family, for the sake of Siena.” I shook my head. “I cannot break such a union. Not yet.”

“Not yet?” he asked, broken hopefulness in his voice.

“Not yet,” I said.