But his eyelids are drooping, and I can tell that within the hour he will be in a deep sleep and past caring.
“I need my bed,” I lie. “It’s been a long day.”
Emilia gives me a sympathetic look, and Lysander kisses my hand. Father reaches for the wine, and I leave the room.
While the city falls asleep, I have business to attend to.
4
I step out into the cool of the night, grasping my mask. From a nearby clock tower I can see that midnight will soon be upon us—I must make haste. I run lightly down the drive and out into the streets of Venice, following their twists and turns, glancing about for a coach to hire. I move as quietly as one of many secrets that travel through this city. The Segreta trade in the stories that no one wants to share; that’s what gives the women of Venice their power. Soon, I will be with my masked friends. I hope Teresa will join us too—I know the women of the Segreta will do everything they can to help her.
The coach pulls up outside Zenato the wine merchant’s. I go to the doorway and give my secret knock—not on the door itself, but on the frame, where the wool gives a duller sound, softened so that passing strangers or sleeping neighbors won’t hear. The door opens silently, its hinges oiled, and there’s the glint of eyes behind a mask. I slip inside and run down the stone stairs to the basement. Candles flicker like the dancing eyes of the devil. The women have gathered in a pool of light.
It’s still a thrill to be welcomed by the Segreta. At first they terrified me, but I was a different girl then—caught between submitting to a marriage with cruel Vincenzo and trusting that these women could set me free. I chose the Segreta. I made the right choice. Within hours, they had exposed Vincenzo’s corruption, and the betrothal was broken.
“Welcome,” says a voice from behind her mask. I recognize her at once—from the mask’s feline design and the husky tones. It’s Grazia de Ferrara. The simple silver ring on her middle finger might look like a cheap market trinket, but for those of us initiated into the Segreta, it is the sign that someone is in the upper echelons of Venice’s most exclusive club. Simple, demure—but a sign of great power. One day I hope to wear one like it, but for now I’m still in the lower ranks of this secret society. Beside Grazia is the woman who leads us, with gray-streaked hair and sharp eyes of bright green: Allegreza di Rocco. Allegreza clutches a mask, its eyeholes framed by jewels and lace, its edges sparkling with gold feathers. Allegreza’s ring has a small ruby embedded in it, made for her by one of the best jewelers in the city. If the master craftsman only knew what Allegreza had commissioned from him!
“I hope you are well,” I say to Grazia.
She takes the mask from her face, and her eyes, as so often, are watchful and sad. Grazia, Allegreza and I are bonded by a secret not known even to the rest of the Segreta: Grazia’s daughter Carina was killed in Venice’s waters. Turned to spite through twisted love, it was she who killed Beatrice. When I revealed what I knew, she tried to kill me and, in the process, died herself. The image of her writhing in pain in the flames of a burning boat and the sound of her shrieks will never leave me.
“Old friends!” a voice calls softly. I recognize the tone of Paulina’s whispers as she arrives, out of breath.
“So glad to see you finally,” I say.
Paulina puts a hand on my arm. “I’m so sorry! My cousins were visiting and I couldn’t get away. Anyway, you’re a big girl now! You can choose dresses without me.”
I feel a frown crease my brow, but it’s hard to stay cross with Paulina for long. “No matter, Faustina came with me.”
“Oh no!” she whispers. “You’ll be wearing a burlap sack on your wedding day!”
I giggle, drawing a sharp glance from Grazia. Segreta business is rarely mirthful. “We’ll be sisters-in-law soon,” I say to Paulina.
“Not long now!” she says. “Perhaps you can spare Nicolo and me a small room in your palace.”
She’s smiling as she speaks, and her eyes flicker like molten gold in the candlelight. This isn’t the first time she’s said this, and I wonder if the repetition