Heart of Glass - By Sasha Gould Page 0,44

it is your duty to report it to me. Do you understand?”

There are murmurs of assent. Allegreza’s glance lands on me, and I nod quickly.

“Excellent. Now, go back to your homes. Remember all that I have told you.”

The other women begin to move away, but I’m frozen. Surely our meeting can’t be over already? Nothing has been said of my fiancé’s plight or his brother’s death. Not a word has been shared in sympathy and understanding for Paulina. But it’s my loved one’s dilemma that troubles me most.

“Will you help Roberto?” The words spill from me before I can stop them.

The other women pause and share confused glances. Allegreza’s face hardens.

“What do you think we can do, Laura?” she asks.

“Either get him out of Venice or work the Segreta’s influence on the trial. He’s an innocent man—he does not deserve what is happening to him.”

Allegreza walks around the room, the floorboards creaking beneath her feet. Her shadow moves with her, stark black against the milky light of the moon.

“We must use our power carefully,” she says. “A knife overused quickly becomes blunt.”

This is too much for me to bear. Allegreza told me—promised me!—that in time the Segreta would turn to Roberto’s plight. Now she talks of caution! I can’t stop myself; I step towards her, my voice loud in the silence of the room. “You had that monster Vincenzo exiled, so why can’t you help Roberto?”

Allegreza pats the air as if to calm me. “Vincenzo was guilty of spying, an agent for the Duke of Milan. We had good reason to banish him.”

“And Roberto is innocent! Isn’t that a good enough reason to help?”

I wait for the murmurs of agreement, but silence stretches between Allegreza and myself. I look around me at the other women and see none of them moving to speak. When I try to make eye contact with young Sophia, my accomplice such a short while ago, she looks away.

Understanding dawns. “You don’t believe in his innocence, do you?” I begin to stalk from woman to woman, staring brazenly into their faces. “Do you?” I pause before Allegreza, my breathing labored.

She shakes her head. “Calm yourself, Laura. A woman has been wronged. We must remember that above all.”

“But not by my fiancé!”

Grazia moves to Allegreza’s side. “You are behaving inappropriately, Laura,” she says.

I step back, trying to calm my thumping heart.

Allegreza sighs. “We understand your pain, Laura,” she says. “Why don’t we put it to an anonymous vote? To help Roberto or to stay out of the case? We will help only with majority assent.”

I feel a flutter of hope. One of the women tears slips of paper from an old, dusty ledger, and we each cast our votes. People can vote yes or no to help Roberto in his plight. We deposit our pieces of paper facedown on the floor in front of us and one of the Segreta collects each of our slips. She goes to a corner of the room and begins counting them out into piles.

Suddenly, there is a clatter of footsteps on the wooden stairs. The Segreta scatter, slinking into the shadows or crouching behind sacks. I press myself into one of the dark corners.

A black-clad figure enters. “Paulina!” cries one of the women, rising to her feet and rushing out to meet her. But Paulina pushes past, glancing around the room. One by one, we step out of our hiding places. Paulina’s eyes come to rest on my face.

“I’m so sorry,” I tell my friend, holding out my arms to her.

“You!” Paulina lunges at me, her nails raking the air. She grabs my hand and drags me towards her. “Nicolo is dead. All because of you!”

Her face is close to mine, and I can feel the spittle on my cheeks. Her hand grips my hair.

“Stop!” I say. “Please!”

“It’s your fault! It should be Roberto’s blood staining the palace floor. Instead, instead …” A sob escapes her. “My love is dead! And with him, my future!”

With a sudden groan of defeat, she falls away from me.

“Roberto is innocent,” I say quietly.

She scoffs. “You simply have no idea, do you? What do you think he was doing when you were in the convent? Saying his own prayers? Don’t make me laugh! He knew his way around every whorehouse in Venice.”

“Hush now,” someone protests. But not because the words offend her—I can sense that she’s trying to protect me.

“What are you talking about?” I say.

“Your one true love!” says Paulina. “A man of spotless