“And after we free Luca, I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to bring Feliciana into his employ.” Cass forced herself to speak with a cheery confidence she didn’t feel. There was one more obstacle standing between her and Florence: she had to persuade her aunt to let her go.
Fortunately, Agnese didn’t require as much convincing as expected. Cass let her aunt lead the conversation through dinner, doing her best to appear attentive but remaining uncharacteristically quiet. When Agnese finally asked her what was wrong, Cass sighed dramatically.
“I just can’t stop worrying about Luca,” she admitted. That much was true. “And every time I leave the house . . . .” she trailed off.
“Yes?” Agnese coughed into her dinner napkin.
“I feel like everyone is staring at me, and saying horrible things.” Cass looked up at her aunt for just a second before dropping her eyes back to the tray balanced on her lap. “Mada thinks I should get away for a while. She and Marco are going to Florence in a couple of days. She keeps insisting that I join her.” Cass sighed again. “I keep telling her that I should stay. I can’t just run away because the entire city seems to be mocking me, or worse—pitying me. What do I care what other people think?”
Agnese swallowed hard, placing her fork down next to her plate of roasted duck. She cared greatly what other people thought. “I do worry about whether Matteo has heard of Luca’s predicament,” she said. Matteo was Agnese’s nephew by marriage. He would come of age soon and inherit the estate, and Agnese fretted obsessively about her stature in his eyes because she didn’t want him to toss out Cass and the serving staff if he chose to come live in the villa. “Maybe a short trip would do you some good,” Agnese continued. “Florence
“But I can’t leave you here alone, Aunt Agnese,” Cass said, knowing this would further convince her aunt that she should leave. She picked listlessly at a greasy slab of duck, hoping she wasn’t overdoing it. Agnese was no fool. If she figured out Cass was trying to con her, Cass would end up locked inside the villa again while Narissa watched her every move.
“Alone? I wish I could have a moment alone in this house,” her aunt grumbled. “Narissa checks on me nine times a day, and that foul doctor shows up at all hours with his bloodsucking pets, not to mention the serving staff—I hardly think you’d be leaving me alone.”
Cass formed her face into a hopeful expression. “Really? It
Agnese nodded. “And Madalena’s mere presence is a tonic for you.”
Cass leaned forward and kissed her aunt on the cheek. “You’ve convinced me,” she said. “I’ll send word to Mada immediately, if you’re sure you don’t mind being without me.”
“Of course I don’t mind. It was my idea. I only wish you would listen to me more often,” Agnese huffed.
Cass had to lift her napkin to her mouth to conceal a smile.
ten
“The church believes the ‘Devil’s children’ should be interred near a crossroads, so that the power of Christ might prevent the evil from rising from their graves.”
—THE BOOK OF THE ETERNAL ROSE
Cass spent the entire trip to the mainland thinking about the papers she had found in her parents’ tomb. What kind of elixir was the Order trying to create, and when had her parents become involved? Was that why they had never been home?
She couldn’t help but feel a wave of anger. How could her own parents have willingly associated with Joseph Dubois? How could they have felt a greater allegiance to a secret society than to their own daughter? These same thoughts tumbled relentlessly through her head as their ship approached land.
Men with carriages were waiting for the party as they docked at Mestre, the main connecting point between the Rialto and the mainland. The carriages were made of sturdy wood with big metal wheels, each pulled by a single horse.
Cass stared in fascination. The last horses she’d seen had belonged to the Doge—great glossy black things that were draped in gold and velvet and stood almost twice as tall as she did. These were shorter, with wide furry legs and bare backs. Cass approached the nearest horse, reaching out a hand toward its muzzle.
The horse raised one of its forefeet and stamped it on the ground. Cass hesitated. The driver laughed. “Go on then. He won’t bite you.”
She reached out to stroke the horse’s forehead and it nickered softly. Suddenly, she missed Slipper terribly.
“He likes you,” the driver said. “He always likes the pretty girls.”
Cass blushed. She patted the horse again. It made a chuffing sound as it studied her with its big black eyes.
The party split into two groups. The servants and the men hired to tend to the horses rode in one carriage, and Cass, Madalena, and Marco rode in another. Cass hadn’t ridden in a carriage since she was a little girl. Back then it had seemed fun, the rhythmic clip-clopping of hooves as the carriage skipped along. Now she felt like her head might bounce right off her neck. She clutched the side of the bench for support while Marco wrapped his arms around Mada to steady her. When the path flattened out, Marco and Madalena remained twined around each other, trading occasional quick kisses when they thought Cass wasn’t looking. Cass swallowed a sigh. She wished she were riding in the servants’ carriage with Feliciana and Siena. They were probably gossiping and giggling.
“Are you all right, Cass?” Marco asked. “You’ve got a funny look on your face.”
Cass blurted out the first words that came to mind. “I was just wondering how long it will take to get to Florence.” She glanced out the window. The sun had already fallen below the tree line. She couldn’t believe how many trees there were. Ribbons of pines and firs snaked out in all directions, twisted gray trunks crowned with feathery branches. The air smelled fresh, like a fire at Christmastime. Completely different from the moldy, fetid odors of Venice.
“About a week,” Marco answered.
A week! Cass tried not to imagine how sore she’d be after an entire week of being jostled around the tiny carriage compartment. And worse, she quickly did the math in her head. That would leave only two and a half weeks for her to find the Book of the Eternal Rose and return to Venice before Luca’s execution.
As she adjusted to the roiling, jerking motion, she distracted herself with the stunning and unfamiliar views that rolled past her window: more and more forests, a multitude of green patches, and far in the distance, a line of mountain peaks jutting high above the trees.
“The Apennines,” Marco said, following her gaze. “Lovely, aren’t they?”
It took three days to reach the base of the Apennines. The surface of a turquoise lake shimmered in the moonlight, and the dark shadows of the mountain peaks loomed all around them. Cass couldn’t help but think of Falco. He would love this beauty; he would know how to draw it.
One day turned into another. And then another. They traded the mountains for wild open meadows, for tall wet grass and soft dirt roads. The sun rose and set again. Twice during the journey, Cass’s carriage got stuck in the mud. The male servants and the carriage attendants had to push and pull the giant wagons to get them through the murky soft spots and back onto the path. Cass began to wonder if they would ever reach Florence.
Finally, the carriage driver announced they were nearing their destination. Cass hung her head out the window, eager for a view of the city.
But she didn’t see any buildings or people, not even way off on the horizon. All she saw were more fields,
