Belladonna (31 page)

Then, Luca had asked her if she’d heard of the Order of the Eternal Rose. How long had he known about the Order? Did he know their parents were members? Why did Cass’s mother steal pages from the book and hide them in the Caravello crypt? Cass prayed she’d get the chance to see him again, and that he would be well enough to escape the Doge’s dungeons. Only then could she ask him all the questions that had plagued her over the past few weeks.

She lay back on the bench. Looking up at the bright blue sky, she wished for the millionth time that her mother were still alive to guide her. Not the woman who was a member of a wicked Order, but the mother she remembered, with a laugh like bells and hair that smelled of lavender. The mother who used to tell Cass she was bright and beautiful and could have the whole world if she wished it.

Cass didn’t want the whole world. She just wanted Luca to live. She spoke the wish quietly into the sky. Maybe a ministering angel would hear her, and take pity.

The kitchen door swung open. Cass sat up quickly, gathering her skirts around her. Siena was heading into the garden, both arms laden with parcels.

“What is all of that?” Cass asked. She glanced up at the thick glass window at the back of the villa to make sure no one was watching them.

“Were you planning to wear your favorite dress into the Doge’s dungeons?” Siena asked, stacking several of the wrapped packages on the bench next to Cass. Cass marveled that Siena actually seemed to be enjoying herself. Her eyes were glittering, and her cheeks were flushed. She almost looked excited. “I bought you something more appropriate. And look.” She sat on the bench across from Cass and unrolled a piece of vellum out onto her lap. It was a crude drawing. Even without anything labeled, Cass could tell what it was. A map of the main level of the Palazzo Ducale.

“How did you get this?” Cass’s mouth fell open.

“I know someone who works for the palace,” Siena said triumphantly. “A boy who used to fancy my sister.” Siena glanced up at the rose trellis for a moment. “I persuaded him to give me a bit of information in exchange for a little gold. He said that in preparation for his execution, Luca was moved from one of the upper cells to the pozzi. He drew this rough map so that we’ll know which way to go to find the stairs to the lower prison.”

So. Luca was now being detained in the pozzi, the horrible underground prison. Cass had heard stories of cells flooding, of prisoners drowning in the foul water that rushed in with the tides. The only way to stay dry was to hover on the bed of stone at the center of each cell, sometimes for hours. Hordes of insects bred within the rotting larch walls, and even after the water receded, the odor of mold and canal water stayed behind.

And then the rats appeared.

“He said we should enter here,” Siena said, pointing at a door on the south side of the palace. “Servants go in and out of this door until sunset. We’ll have to sneak in and hide away for a few hours, until the senators go home and the rest of the palace retires for the evening.” She pointed at another area on the map. “The royal wine room is here. It’s kept dark and we can hide behind the casks.”

Cass hated the thought of a darkened wine room—so similar to the room in which Cristian had attacked her. But she wouldn’t be alone. Siena would be with her. Cass felt a rush of affection for Siena, so strong she nearly reached out and hugged her. Siena was willing to risk her life for Cass, and for Luca, a man she could never have.

“The tide will be highest around midnight tomorrow,” Siena said.

“Tomorrow?” Cass croaked. The word seemed so flimsy, so near. Cass was suddenly aware of the breeze blowing in from the lagoon. Her skin turned to gooseflesh. Tomorrow was too soon. But it was their only chance. Luca would be executed the following day.

“I think our best time to enter the dungeon will be about ten,” Siena continued. “That way we have time to get back up the stairs and out the same door before the water levels reach their highest point. They won’t get high enough to drown us, but navigating the dungeons in high water wouldn’t be pleasant.” She frowned. “What if we’re seen? Water or no, we won’t be able to outrun the palace soldiers.”

“We’ll have to jump into the quay,” Cass said, with more conviction than she felt. “We can hide beneath one of the docks. Once it’s safe, we’ll swim across the Giudecca Canal to San Giorgio Maggiore.” She stopped. “Can you swim?”

“I can stay afloat if it means staying alive.” Siena looked doubtful. “Can
you
swim?”

Cass had tried it once or twice as a child. Her parents had taken her on trips to the mainland where lakes and rivers were plentiful. “I think so,” she said. “There’s a wooded area behind the church. I’ll hide some supplies there so we can spend the night. You can find passage back here in the morning.”

“But I can’t just leave you,” Siena protested. “Luca might be ill. You might need my help.”

Cass’s stomach lurched. “We’ll figure something out, Siena,” she said. “But
we
can’t go back to San Domenico. The soldiers will come for us if we do.”

Siena nodded, but she looked crushed. “I could come with you,” she said hopefully.

Cass shook her head. “Staying on with us might be dangerous,” she said. “And we might live far away from Feliciana. I wouldn’t want to keep you from her.”

Siena bit her lip. Cass reached out and squeezed her hand. She knew what it was like to want two opposing things simultaneously.

“Why not wait?” Cass said. “I’ll send word to you somehow, once Luca and I are settled somewhere safe. You can decide then where your future lies.”

Siena nodded. She gestured to one of the parcels she had stacked next to Cass on the bench. “A servant’s uniform, black and gold for the Palazzo Ducale.” She pulled something sleek and silver from a package that was coming unwrapped. A dagger. Just looking at the sharp blade made Cass’s insides seize up. Would she be able to use it? She didn’t think so.

But she might not have a choice.

Agnese didn’t make it to the dining room for the evening meal. As much as Cass had been grateful to avoid her aunt’s hawklike gaze, she felt a sudden, pressing need to have one last conversation with her. After stopping to check her reflection—no, her plan wasn’t visible in her expression, it only
felt
that way—Cass requested two trays from the kitchen, then headed to Agnese’s bedroom.

“Come in,” Agnese said in response to her knock.

Cass pushed the door open just wide enough to admit herself. Her aunt was propped up on several pillows.

“Cassandra.” Agnese’s smile broadened, but then quickly faded. “You’re upset,” she said. “I take it there’s been no news of a commuted sentence.”

Cass shook her head. She pulled the chair from Agnese’s dressing table over to the side of the bed.

“I guess I’d hoped that perhaps . . .” Agnese’s voice trailed off. She reached out to take one of Cass’s hands in her own gnarled fingers. “No matter what happens, I’ll see to it that you’re taken care of. I can find you another match.”

“Aunt Agnese!” Cass frowned. “I don’t want a husband. I want Luca to go free.” Fearing she’d said too much, Cass dropped her eyes.

A sharp knock sounded from the corridor. “Come in,” Agnese said.

Narissa and another servant entered with a pair of supper trays. They handed one to Cass and helped Agnese balance the other on her lap. Cass looked down at the porcelain bowl of beef soup and platter of warm chunks of bread. She needed to keep up her strength, but her stomach hadn’t stopped churning since Siena had come back with the daggers. Narissa tucked an embroidered napkin beneath the loose folds of Agnese’s chin and draped a second cloth over her chest.

“That will be all. Thank you.” Agnese turned back to Cass. “I know this must be very hard on you, Cassandra.” Agnese bit into a crust of bread. “But just having you safe in Venice makes me feel stronger,” she said. “I know I told you to go, but I had the most awful feelings while you were gone, like I might never see you again.”

Cass set her spoon down on her tray. Had her aunt somehow sensed the danger in Florence? She felt a wrenching sense of guilt. What would happen to Agnese if Cass and Luca were forced to flee the Republic? It might not even be safe to send word that they were alive.

“You don’t need to worry about me,” Cass said. “You raised me to be strong. I—I will always love you for that.” Cass blinked back hot tears. She rarely told her aunt that she loved her.

“Of course, dear.” Agnese, looking somewhat embarrassed, reached out and patted Cass’s hand. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just didn’t want anything to happen to you. As I’ve said, you’re all I have.”

The guilt was practically choking her. Was she doing the wrong thing, risking her life to save Luca? “I noticed several trunks downstairs,” she blurted out. “They’re locked. Do they belong to you?”

Agnese stiffened. “Those are my private belongings, Cassandra. I trust you have not been snooping.”

“No, no,” Cass said quickly. “The door was open. Perhaps a servant was cleaning.”

“That room is full of the woman I used to be,” Agnese said primly. Cass waited for her to elaborate, but she didn’t.

“So . . .” Cass swallowed. “The items in that room . . . they belong to you, and not to Matteo?”

“The items downstairs belong to whomever I choose, and I do not choose Matteo.”

“But . . . where did all of it
come
from?”

The suggestion of a smile passed across Agnese’s face. “It’s a long story, and our soup is getting cold. Perhaps we should save it for another time?”

“All right,” Cass said. Her heart ached. She knew there might not
be
another time.

Before Agnese had finished eating, her papery eyelids had drifted closed. Cass set both trays on the dressing table and removed the napkins from her aunt’s chest. Then she bent down and kissed Agnese on the forehead. She couldn’t help but wonder if this was the last time she would ever see her.

The next day, just after dawn, Cass crept out to the graveyard with the leather bundle of papers and her journal. She couldn’t bear to lose either item, and at least if she locked them in the Caravello tomb, she would know they were safe. She’d figure out a way to retrieve them eventually.

She had wanted to hide away one other thing—the portrait Falco had painted of her, the canvas he had started the night of their first kiss. Even though she knew they weren’t meant to be together, Cass didn’t want to relinquish the memory of everything they had shared. But the painting was too bulky to conceal beneath a cloak, and she’d have a hard time explaining it to Luca someday. Reluctantly, Cass had left it where it was, nestled at the very back of her armoire behind all of her skirts and bodices.

She tucked the bundle of parchment and her journal behind one of the high coffins, locked the crypt door, and rethreaded the lion key onto the chain around her neck. She touched the lily pendant gently. “Bring me luck,” she whispered.

Back in her room, Siena helped Cass into the servant’s uniform. The fabric was a little rough against her skin, but Cass loved being able to forgo her stays. She selected her most luxurious cloak—the black satin one with the white fox fur collar and cuffs—wrapping it snugly around her so that people would be less likely to notice the simple apparel beneath. She slipped into a pair of soft leather shoes and grabbed one of her shorter pairs of chopines. She planned on ditching the overshoes as soon as she could do so without attracting attention.

Siena pinned Cass’s hair into a secure bun and handed her a simple bonnet with a black silk veil that could be lowered as desired. Cass nodded approvingly.

Agnese was still sleeping as the two girls prepared to set off for the Rialto. Cass paused at the bottom of the staircase, just inside the front door. If only she could run up the stairs and peek at Agnese one last time. But no, it was too risky. Her aunt might wake and see everything reflected in her eyes. Perhaps, if everything worked out as it should, Cass could send her a note someday.

She inhaled deeply, trying to quell the sadness and terror that welled up in her chest. She wasn’t just saying good-bye to Agnese. She was saying good-bye to the only life she knew, to whispered conferences with Siena, to teasing Bortolo for falling asleep standing up, to sneaking bits of chicken up to her room for Slipper. Cass almost burst into tears at the thought of never seeing her cat again.

But she was doing what she must.

Giuseppe rowed them across the lagoon. He raised an eyebrow when the girls requested a quick stop at San Giorgio Maggiore, but didn’t question them. Cass had a package of clothing and coins tucked under her arm. She and Siena made their way to the back of the church. Cass slung her parcel from a tree branch, hoping no one would find it before nightfall.

They returned to the gondola, and Giuseppe rowed to the Rialto, where he dropped them off near Luca’s family palazzo. Cass had announced loudly the day before that she was going to spend the morning circulating a petition among Luca’s neighbors asking for mercy on his behalf. Not as if the Senate would care about sentiments gathered from the district if they didn’t care they were executing an innocent man, but it was a proper story—just the sort of thing a distraught fiancée might do.

Instead, the girls headed to Piazza San Marco. There was no point in spending all day huddled behind casks of wine, especially when it increased the likelihood of being caught. Wandering the piazza was a good way to pass time. The area around the Palazzo Ducale and the Basilica San Marco was teeming with people dressed in brightly colored dresses and cloaks. The snap of sails and the shout of fishermen from the quay behind the piazza punctuated the buzzing chatter of vendors and buyers roaming the crowded square. Scents—the sharp jasmine of perfume and the sweetness of honey—mostly obscured the stench of the nearby canals.