Belladonna

committed by Dubois and the other members to have them executed several times over.”

“So this book is the only way to fight Dubois? Do you know where it is? I’ll bring it to you. I’ll . . . ,” she trailed off.

“Cass.” Luca squeezed her fingers, and her insides went a little weak. “You owe no debt to me. Have your aunt arrange another match, perhaps with someone of your own choosing. Go be happy. It’s what I want for you.”

“Luca!” Her voice rose in pitch. “Don’t even speak like that.” Once upon a time she’d dreamed of those words. Go be happy. Luca releasing her so she could be with Falco. But she hadn’t meant for it to come to this. It couldn’t come to this. She could never be happy with someone else, knowing that only Luca’s execution had made it possible. And what exactly did he mean, someone of her own choosing?

“Quiet,” the jailer growled. “You have one more minute.”

“Tell me more about the book,” Cass begged. “I can find it.”

Luca exhaled deeply, touching his forehead to hers. “I don’t want you to get hurt, Cass.” His voice threatened to break apart on the last word. He reached his other hand up to stroke Cass’s cheek with a single fingertip.

“I don’t want you to die,” Cass whispered. A droplet of sweat fell from her chin and landed on the dusty floor in front of the cell. Inside of her, a wound opened, spilling sadness and rage throughout her body. Luca was brave. Luca was innocent. Luca would never let her rot away in a prison cell.

Their fingers were still intertwined, their foreheads touching. Connected. So close. Their eyelashes practically weaving together.

Cass realized she could kiss him. She could just tilt her head slightly and their lips would meet. For the first time she wanted to. She wanted to show him that she cared for him, that she was a good and decent woman, not the kind of person who would just let him die because it was convenient to do so.

Luca reached up with his free hand again. Cass felt certain he was going to angle her mouth toward his. Her eyelids started to flutter closed, but then stopped when she felt a point of pressure against her throat. She realized her cloak had fallen open, and that her lily pendant was exposed. Luca was touching it.

“I’m so glad you’re wearing it,” he whispered, his voice growing hoarse. “It’ll be something for you to remember me by.”

Cass swallowed down a lump in her throat. She touched her lips to the corner of his jaw, exhaling hard against his skin. “Stop it this instant. I will not give up on you, Luca da Peraga.”

Luca turned his mouth so his lips just barely brushed against hers, so quickly her mouth formed an O of surprise. Her legs wavered and her body threatened to crumple to the floor. She didn’t know if it was the unbearable heat or her uncomfortable position. Or the kiss. She closed her eyes for a second, holding fast to Luca’s hand until her bones went steady again.

He chuckled, an actual laugh. “Now, no matter what happens, I’ll have that to remember you by.”

Cass leaned forward and felt the metal bars of the grate digging into her skin. She didn’t care. Suddenly she wanted to be as close as she could to Luca. Luca, who now wanted her to forget his death and find someone else with whom she could be happy. Cass had never known such selflessness before. She pressed her mouth hard against his, ignoring his sweat and the stubble of his beard digging into her skin. His whole body tensed in response. For one sweet moment, the filth and the stench and the grimness of the situation dissipated. All Cass felt was herself and Luca, connected.

When they broke apart, she struggled to catch her breath. “Now stop talking of remembrances and tell me where to find this book.”

Luca touched his free hand to his lips. His face was flushed and his eyes were bright. “My father believed the book was in Florence, the birthplace of the Order.” He dropped his voice. “But I can tell you for certain where to find the pages.”

“Where?” Cass asked. Around her, the prisoners’ moaning seemed to fade; the whole room fell quiet.

“Locked inside your family tomb.”

“What?” Cass wasn’t quite sure she’d heard him right. “The Caravello tomb?”

“Yes.”

“But why would your father put them there?” Cass asked.

“He didn’t,” Luca said. “Your mother did.”

six

“The truth is often different from what is perceived as truth, but only the latter is of any consequence.”

—THE BOOK OF THE ETERNAL ROSE

What? Why would my mother—”

Heavy boot steps sounded behind her. The jailer was coming. Cass was out of time.

“The key is in the study at my family palazzo,” Luca whispered. “Hidden in the fireplace.”

Before Luca could explain further, the jailer took hold of Cass’s arm and hauled her back to her feet. “You must go now,” he said, prodding her roughly through the door that led back into the passageway.

Wiping the perspiration from her brow, Cass retraced her steps to the room with four doors, where she quickly exchanged her shoes and cloak with Siena.

“Let’s go,” Cass said. “I’ll explain on the way.” She towed Siena across the vestibule and down the stairs. A pair of noblewomen stood just inside the porta della carta, their handmaids hovering dutifully at their sides. Cass could feel all four sets of eyes burning into her back as she passed.

“Get everything you came for?” the shorter soldier asked as Cass slipped back into her chopines. She ignored him, heading quickly across the smaller part of the piazza to the lagoon, where Giuseppe and their gondola bobbed in the quay.

For one brief second, Cass allowed herself to replay the kiss, the prickle of Luca’s beard against her chin, his lips on hers. Softness. Pressure. How could he just tell her to forget him and find someone else if he loved her? Even if Cass were to be executed, she would want her husband to weep over her corpse, to declare her the great love of his life.

Without waiting for Giuseppe’s assistance, she wobbled her way into the boat. She instructed him to take them down the Grand Canal.

“Where are we going?” Siena asked, taking Giuseppe’s gnarled hand in her own as she lifted her skirt over the side of the gondola.

Cass yanked open the slats on the felze. “We have to go to Palazzo da Peraga, but first we’re going to pay a little visit to Donna Zanotta.”

Giuseppe obeyed wordlessly. He had been working for Agnese’s estate for more than thirty years and had learned not to question the whims of Cass or her aunt. It occurred to Cass for the first time that he must know many secrets about Agnese. She wondered what sort of stories he might be able to tell.

As they passed into the wealthiest part of the San Polo district, Cass balled her fists tightly in her lap. Hortensa had everything. What could Dubois possibly have promised her in exchange for her testimony? Had she done it just to be cruel, to be hurtful? Or had he threatened her to get her to comply?

Giuseppe slowed the boat to a stop in front of Palazzo Zanotta, a vast and ostentatious building with a facade made of brick and brightly painted marble trimming. Don Zanotta’s private dock featured a pair of mooring posts carved in the shape of knights wielding broadswords. Giuseppe tied up the gondola and helped Cass and Siena from the boat.

Cass glanced up as she stepped onto the dock. The sun had made its way across the sky. It must be late afternoon already. She adjusted her lace collar, which seemed intent on strangling her.

The front door of Palazzo Zanotta was made of carved wood and gold filigree. An ornate bronze