love Mayor Francesco Rossi, as he’s always been kind and courteous to me. But the fact that he’s twenty-six years older than me is a tough pill to swallow. My father didn’t marry my mother for love, but because she came from a large family with plenty of soldiers he could control. They grew to love one another, though his love for her never stopped him from bedding the women who worked in our household. I stopped judging him a long time ago, after I realised the only thing he truly cares for is power. My mother and I are nothing but pawns in his game to gain control of Vita, and my future “marriage” is nothing more than another move on his chessboard.
Tonight is my first time attending The Annual Peace Ball, and I’m dying to walk around and enjoy being with people I’ve never met, and will likely never meet again. Slipping slowly out of my seat, I duck away from the table, holding my breath until I’m out of the ballroom and wandering around the different rooms in the mayor’s mansion. I find myself weaving through guests standing around with their flutes of champagne, discussing the politics of Vita, and come across a large painting hung on the far wall, away from the guests.
I’m enthralled by the grey strokes and splashes of paint they used to create the storm clouds. But more than that, the blast of light bursting from a dark figure falling through the sky has me stepping closer.
It’s an angel, falling from heaven, his wings ripping away from his back. The longer I stare at him, the more I feel his pain and agony. What I wouldn’t give to be cast out of this hell in exchange for somewhere better.
“They say when the first angel fell to earth, he landed in Vita, hence it being such a wicked place.”
Turning to the deep voice at my side, the moment is broken by a beautiful boy with dark hair falling haphazardly over his bright blue eyes. He jerks his head, whipping his hair to the side, drawing my gaze to his dazzling smile. When he turns to look up at the painting, I turn back to it as well.
“Who says that? Vita is a beautiful place to live.”
I feel his eyes gaze over at me, but I keep mine on the angel.
“Beauty only exists to mask the ugly. Just like you exist to hide the ugly behind your family name.”
A sense of unease washes over me, and I give him my full attention, taking a step away from him. He’s quick to close the space between us, and I flinch when he brings his hand up to sweep a stray curl behind my ear.
“I don’t intend to insult you, as it’s true for me too.” He extends his hand out to me. “My name is Raphael Marocchi, and I’ve waited a long time to meet you, Jamila Camarco.”
A small gasp bursts from between my lips, but I find myself placing my hand in his. Bringing it up to his lips, he presses a kiss along my knuckles.
I know who he is. He’s a part of the prophecy, just as I am. He’s the boy who was born on the same day, at the same time as me. I’ve heard it many times over the years, but I’ve never seen the boy I’m supposedly meant to save the city with.
“Do you believe in the prophecy?” he questions, lowering my hand, yet not letting it go.
“My father insists it’s nothing but an old man’s wish. An old man who’s lost his marbles.”
“Do you believe everything your father tells you,”—his gaze lowers to the cross hanging from my neck—“or are you more inclined to believe a man of God?”
As it happens, I don’t believe everything my father tells me, and I fully believe everything the Father does. But when it comes to the prophecy, I’ve always regarded it as some kind of fairy tale.
“There you are, Ms. Camarco.”
Raphael and I both turn to find one of my father’s men standing in the doorway across the room.
“Meet me tomorrow at noon, behind your church.”
With that, he disappears behind a statue of an old Roman god and out through a second archway.
I grasp the cross lying against my chest, wondering if it’s possible that the prophecy is true? Is Raphael Marocchi and I destined to bring peace to Vita?
Chapter Two
Mila
Making the sign of Christ over my chest, I murmur, “Amen,” and