My thudding heart slows. Calm down, I tell myself. I’ve run secret errands before; I can do this. I find a low wooden stool and gather up my skirts to sit and wait. I rest my elbows on my knees and perch my chin on my fists, watching the doorway leading to the pier. When our contact arrives, I’ll see her in an instant. My body shivers with anticipation. I feel honored that the Segreta have chosen me for this task, but now I’m impatient to find out what the latest secret is. Who will this person be?
There is no way of telling the time here, but I know it’s been hours.
My back aches and my legs have turned numb. I get to my feet and stretch my arms over my head, bringing the blood back into my limbs. Grazia didn’t tell me how long I’d have to wait, but this feels too long.
After at least another half hour has passed, I begin to walk back towards my waiting boat. But as I pass beneath the roof of the studio, I hear another noise—no bird this time, of that I am sure. It’s the ragged intake of a human breath.
“Who’s there?” I call out. I try to keep the nerves out of my voice, but I can hear how startled I sound. There’s another muffled noise—something scraping across the floor—and then a darting shadow. A woman! Her silhouette races ahead of me, and, lifting my skirts, I break out into a run. The shadow swirls round and hands slam into my chest so hard that I stagger and lose my footing, falling to the ground. I leap up immediately, but the woman is already running away from me. Not towards the pier, but towards a hidden door that I now spot behind shelves stacked with plates and vases. There’s the sound of a key turning, and the woman is gone.
“Come back!” I cry. “I’m here to help!”
I follow her out of the doorway, into an open courtyard at the rear of the glass factory. Her footsteps echo on the cobblestones as she races away beneath an arch set in a low wall. I run after her, my skirts gathered in my fists. It’s so dark I can hardly see what lies before me and can only hope that there are no loose cobblestones waiting to twist an ankle.
As I emerge from the arch, I see dozens of shelves stacked with crates and glass products. From between two of the shelves a pair of bright eyes watches. “I’m a friend,” I say, stepping towards her. She jerks away, and at once the shelf begins to lean towards me. I leap backwards as the whole tower topples with an almighty crash inches from my feet. The sound of breaking glass fills my ears.
Breathing fast with panic, I pick my way around the debris, looking for the girl, wary of any further dangers. She’s nowhere to be found, and after a few more minutes I have to admit defeat.
The woman has escaped.
Pushing hair out of my face, I stumble past the glass factory and to the pier. I’ve failed. Whatever Allegreza sent me here to discover, it remains a secret.
I dust down my skirts, and as I climb into the boat, the woman raises her eyebrows.
“You were a long time,” she says. “What was that noise?”
I shake my head and settle on the bench. “Let’s go,” I tell her.
7
When I return to the ball, things are very different. The glamor of a few hours ago has burned itself out. Now, empty food platters are cast aside, flagons drained of wine. The few dancers that are left lean into each other heavily, heads resting on shoulders, eyelids drooping. I wander out to the white marble balcony with its fluted columns. Beyond the balustrade, the landscape of Venice stretches across an imaginary canvas. An orange tree in flower sends out its scent from a pot beside a bench, on which my brother sits with his wife.
“Laura,” he says, smiling lazily. Emilia leans into his side, a hand resting beneath her chin as she sleeps. Her curls have loosened, and the ribbons in her hair are strewn around her neck.
“She looks worn out,” I say.
“Roberto was here earlier, looking for you,” Lysander says, stroking a hand across his wife’s cheek. She moves slightly in her sleep and then resettles. “Where have you been?”
I shrug and gaze out over Venice. Dawn mist curls off the