returned and Halim is lost to me. “There’s nothing I can do to help,” he says. “Simply nothing.”
I walk through the door and turn back to him. But his gaze remains fixed on the stairs—my invitation to leave.
“Halim …,” I say, sending out one last desperate plea.
He shakes his head and, finally, looks at me. His brown eyes scorch my face. “I have proof,” he says. “Proof of what Roberto has done. It’s you I feel sorry for, dear Laura. You stand loyal to the wrong man.”
And with that, the door shuts. I behold the varnished mahogany for a long, painful moment. Then I stumble down the stairs. The guards watch me step out into the sunshine, my eyes watering in the light.
“That was quick,” one of them says. There’s a sound from above our heads, and when I glance up, I see Halim standing on a balcony, watching me.
“You’ll see at the trial how right I am,” he calls. It’s as though he’s raining arrows on my head instead of words, and each one causes fresh pain.
I walk away, past the fountain and the bench.
I hardly see where I’m going.
25
“Proof?” I mutter as I walk through the streets. I don’t care if people hear. Who is he to talk of proof? What does he know?
I turn the corner and realize I’m beside the public entrance of the Piombi. Through this door, up near-endless stairs and corridors and above the heads of his family Roberto lies in a cell strewn with damp straw. Have the guards been at him again? I hardly dare think. My breath comes in shallow gasps, and I lean against the wall, its bricks warmed by the sun. A passing fruit-seller pauses and throws me a concerned glance, before hurrying on.
I crane my head back to observe the swallows darting in the sky above us. The thought that wormed its way into my mind is festering there. Has Roberto lied to me? I twist around and slam my palm against the wall. It cannot be.
I try to think things through logically, linking one event with the next. Aysim should never have been in Roberto’s room. She planned to meet with the Segreta. I hurry on, my skirts bunched up. A street actor calls out a joke after me and his audience laughs to see a noble lady embarrassing herself in this way. I don’t care. I need answers.
A servant accompanies me into Allegreza’s private quarters and announces my arrival. My mentor stands beside a gilt sideboard that supports a bird stand with two doves cooing on their perch. She indicates with an open hand towards a seat, and I settle on the damask.
“Your hair has come loose,” she says. My hands dart to my temples, smoothing my curls back into place. “You must not make a habit of unsolicited calls. But as it happens, I’m glad to see you this time. I have news.”
“Oh, thank goodness! Will it help Roberto?”
Allegreza reaches inside the folds of silk at her bodice and pulls out a key. She leans over to a table with an empty plate on it and unlocks a drawer. Then she places her hand inside, pulls out a roll of parchment and reads it. “You must not let that man rule all your thoughts,” she says.
I feel my features twist. “I’m betrothed to be married to that man, and he languishes in the foulest prison in the city!”
Allegreza shakes her head. “If you want to help Roberto, you must learn patience and diplomacy. You display neither at the moment.”
My insides shrivel. “Please, tell me what you know.”
She watches my face. “You must move carefully, Laura. We all must. These affairs are grave and the repercussions will be felt across the city. Have I taught you nothing?”
“You have! You have!”
Allegreza’s face softens. “Well, then.” She reads the final lines of spidery writing on her scroll, then places it back in the drawer. With a single turn of the key, it is locked away. She slips the key back into her bodice. “Three nights ago …”
“The night Aysim was killed,” I whisper.
Allegreza nods. “Three nights ago a dark-skinned young girl went to the convent of Saint Susanna in the early hours, begging charity from the nuns.” She sees my glance darting to the locked drawer. “My correspondent tells me that the girl barely spoke a word during her time there, but yesterday she asked to be moved on. Now she resides in your former convent.”