Cross My Heart (28 page)

Four days later

T
he boat, marked with the symbol of the key, takes me to San Michele once more. The lagoon is still, but for the shivering ripples caused by occasional gusts. Gulls wheel overhead with tearing cries.

My shoulder and head are healing quickly. The wound was deep but clean, and though stiff I don’t need to wear a sling. Allegreza summoned a doctor to her house at once that night after Roberto and I staggered there, arm in arm, not letting go of each other. The physician tended to me quickly and efficiently, and after he’d left—paid well for this service and his silence—the Duchess’s cousin listened to our story patiently, told as it was in a weary, weakened haze. Though she must have realized, by Roberto’s presence, that I’d broken my oath of secrecy, she didn’t balk at any time.

We land on the island, and I put on my mask, walking
through the now-familiar corridors of the monastery. The Segreta’s business never sleeps.

My father was beside himself, of course, and when he heard that I had been attacked by bandits, he blamed himself as much as me. I had asked Allegreza how we should tell Grazia of Carina’s death. Allegreza told me that the truth would serve no purpose in this case—Grazia and her husband needed suffer no more. And besides, the boat sunk in the harbor belonged to her family; they would reach their own conclusions. So, between us three—two women and a man—we shared another oath. The circumstances of Carina’s death are a secret I’m happy to keep.

We left Chrixos’s body that night lying beside the tombs, and Allegreza said she would find someone to deal with it before the watchmen were called. Since then I’ve revisited the spot. If I look closely enough, I think I see a stain of blood on the flagstones, but I doubt anyone else would be so observant.

I greet Grazia first in the meeting chamber. Her old frostiness is still there, but I’ve learned to recognize the warmth beneath. Roberto found it hard to fathom, at first, that the blood feud that dominated his adolescence could be lifted as easily as we lift a rug to shake off the dust outside. But since yesterday, with Julius’s speech to the Council delivered, his life is now his own to enjoy.

Once we have all gathered, Grazia takes away her mask, and the other women do the same. It’s the first time I’ve seen all their faces at the same time. “I want to be the first to offer my congratulations,” she says. “Roberto will make a fine husband for you.” The other women approach too, and plant kisses on both my cheeks.

“Thank you all,” I say, slightly surprised—though I shouldn’t be—that they know already. It was only the day before that Roberto came to ask my father in person for my hand. I’m very much the favored daughter now. He is having a new suit made for the wedding—“From Pastollini, the finest tailor in Venice,” as he never tires of telling me.

We’re all surprised to hear footsteps. Everyone dons their masks quickly. A young girl, perhaps younger even than me, creeps tentatively into the room, one hand still on the doorframe as if she plans to run away at any moment.

Allegreza is in charge as usual. She shoos people out of the way to give the girl some space and tells everyone to be quiet.

“Are you the Society?” the girl whispers. “The Society of Secrets?”

“Why do you want to know?” asks Allegreza.

“I need your help,” says the girl. “And I have a secret to tell you.”

Sasha
Gould
lived in Venice until she was nine years old. She later studied fashion in London. Her favorite things are opera, ballet, and romantic movies. She now lives in the Lake District of England with her cat, Tosca, and writes about Venice, the beautiful and mysterious city she knows and loves.