Beyond them, muted yellow and white lilies waved in the breeze.
She raised a hand to the lily pendant around her throat. Belladonna’s mesmerizing garden—and her beauty—had almost distracted her from her true purpose. Luca. The Book of the Eternal Rose. But she could hardly ask to peruse Belladonna’s library in the middle of tea. Perhaps later Signorina Briani might offer her and Madalena a tour of the villa.
Cass sat back in her chair and tried to focus on the conversation. At least she was finally beginning to understand the Florentine accent. She hated asking people to repeat themselves. Scarlet mentioned the scourge of vampirism, and Belladonna launched into her own story of nearly being attacked one night as she returned home from a party in the city center.
“I wear this everywhere now,” she said, “even with gloves.” She held up her left arm so they could see a slender chain of silver encircling her wrist. Two tiny bronze keys dangled from the chain. She gave Cass a curious look. “Is Venice also overrun with vampires? I’ve heard the islands are crawling with ghosts and specters that sneak in and out of buildings with the tides.”
Cass frowned. If the Order truly consisted of people opposed to the Church, she would have assumed Belladonna would denounce the priests and their trials as Falco had done, but she seemed emphatically to believe in vampirism and the recent attacks.
Before Cass could reply, Scarlet said, “Venice, eh? I heard one of the most recent to go to the drowning platform was a Venetian donna.” She clucked her tongue. “How do you suppose she got
“The same way all the ladies do, I’m sure,” Belladonna said drily. “By looking for something prettier than her husband to play with. Honestly, I think some of these girls actually
“Speaking of pretty things to play with,” Gray started, “isn’t your new artist Venetian as well?”
Belladonna’s lips curled into a grin. “Yes, he is quite a find, isn’t he? A recommendation from a business associate.”
Cass felt her cheeks heating up. She quickly dropped her eyes and pretended to be fascinated by the pattern of lace on her cuffs.
“Though your physician is quite handsome too,” Gray said.
Belladonna smiled. “And he’s promised to make sure I never get buried alive again.”
This made Cass look up again. So the story was true.
“Is he still caring for Tatiana de Borello?” Pale asked. “I was wondering if her condition had improved.”
“Poor Tatiana.” Belladonna fixed her eyes on Cass and Madalena. “You mustn’t breathe a word of this to anyone,” she said. “A young girl’s life hangs in the balance.”
Mada leaned closer. Cass fought the urge to look away; Belladonna’s catlike eyes troubled her.
“Tatiana, the dear daughter of one of my closest friends, is clinging to life after a vampire attack. She’s pale as death and her heart beats much too quickly. My physician informed the priests that she doesn’t bear the marks, but that was a lie to spare her life. No one knows how or when she was bitten, but her parents have locked her away in their palazzo. As long as the priests believe she is unmarked, she won’t be called to trial.”
“But what if she turns into a vampire?” Mada asked, eyes wide.
“They’re keeping her tied down, dear, just in case,” Belladonna said. “Bound with silver. But if she were going to change, chances are she would have done so already. It’s been days. My physician thinks the bite may have infected her differently.”
Differently? Cass wasn’t sure what Belladonna meant. According to legend, if a vampire bit you, you either died or transformed. She shuddered at the thought of there being a third, perhaps even more gruesome, possibility.
After another half hour of idle chatter, Pale excused herself, saying she needed to be home before nightfall. Cass did her best to dawdle, sipping slowly at her tea, hoping the other women would make their good-byes. Scarlet left soon after Pale, and Gray was, by this time, struggling to conceal her yawns.
Cass let her eyes wander over Belladonna’s palatial villa, scanning each arched window for any hint of Falco. Did he live here? Did they take their meals together, sharing light banter across a table laden with delicacies?
“I’m afraid I must walk you back to your carriage soon,” Belladonna said abruptly, startling Cass from her reverie. Were she and Madalena being tossed out? “I have a meeting this evening,” the signorina continued. “But I insist that you both come back tomorrow, and bring your husband and father too, if they would like,” she told Mada. “I’m having a little party, and I would love to talk more with both of you. Especially you, Cassandra. Signor da Padova speaks quite fondly of you.”
Madalena arched an eyebrow at Cass. Cass ignored her. “We became friends when he did a portrait of me,” she said cautiously.
“I see.” Belladonna’s lips twitched. “I honestly think he’s grown as an artist, just in the few weeks he’s been here.” She rose from her seat. “Of course I work the poor boy to death,” she added.
“Would it be possible to see your library?” Cass blurted out. “Just for a moment? I’ve heard you’re quite the collector.”
“Certainly, dear,” Belladonna said. “In fact I can show you Signor da Padova’s most recent painting at the same time.” She clasped her hands together as she headed for the stairs.
Belladonna led the girls quickly through the villa, giving Cass and Mada scant time to marvel over the paintings, sculptures, and other odd bits of beauty scattered throughout the cavernous rooms.
“Where does that door lead?” Cass gestured toward a large wooden door at the end of the hallway, carved from top to bottom with images of Greek goddesses.
“To my chambers.” Belladonna smiled slowly. She adjusted the neckline of her dress. “But only certain guests get invited there.”
Cass blushed at the insinuation. It was odd that Signorina Briani was so beautiful and wealthy, but wasn’t married.
Then they turned a corner and entered the library, and Cass couldn’t keep her jaw from dropping. Belladonna had more books than Cass had ever seen in one place before, perhaps even more books than the Doge of Venice. She quickly began to scan the shelves from a distance. Was the Book of the Eternal Rose tucked away in this room?
Her eyes didn’t get far before they settled on a large painting above the fireplace, just as Belladonna proclaimed proudly, “There it is.” It was Falco’s work—Cass could see it in the muted real-world colors and the sharp brushstrokes. It was a painting of Belladonna, dressed in voluminous gray skirts and a low-cut emerald bodice, her breasts peeking out over the lacy neckline.
Cass dropped her eyes. It wasn’t the revealing dress that bothered her. It was the way Bella’s body was arranged, reclined on a bed, with one hip rolled forward, hair hanging down over her exposed collarbone. Cass thought back to the night in Tommaso Vecellio’s studio, where she and Falco had shared their first kiss. He had insisted on painting her. His soft hands had seemed so purposeful as he arranged her body, as if his growing feelings had determined the tilt of her head and just the way a lock of damp hair should fall over the bare skin of her throat. Cass forced herself to look at the painting again. She wasn’t imagining things. Falco had positioned Belladonna’s body in exactly the same way.
seventeen
“All pages pertaining to meetings, theories, subjects, and trials must be maintained in a single place, carefully guarded by the leader of the Order.”
—THE BOOK OF THE ETERNAL ROSE
