about the Grand Council, I just want you to be safe! Massimo’s men will kill you.”
“My life is here.”
“It will be no life if you are discovered.”
He’s my loving brother again, eyes soft with concern.
“I must take that chance.”
I wait for him to tell me that I’m a fool, but instead he waves away a servant who stands over a chest. My brother goes to open the lid and reaches inside a case made of felt, bringing out a small glass vial filled with clear liquid. Cupping it in the palm of his hand so that it’s concealed from view, he passes it to me.
“Hide it,” he orders, “on your person, and never let it go.” Forcing myself not to look down at my hand, I pocket the tiny vial.
“What is it?” I ask, my eyes fixed on his.
“An infusion of hemlock. It was given to me by a doctor friend. Small quantities can be a useful sedative, but he warned me that drunk whole it could kill a person.” His eyes narrow. “Laura, if they discover that you’re … Do what you must.”
I understand, and lean in to kiss his cheek. By his ear, I whisper, “The death. Would it be a painful one?”
“It would not,” he whispers back.
Our eyes meet. “Thank you,” I murmur, struggling to contain the tremor in my voice.
“Tell Father goodbye.”
Then I hear the crunch of gravel as my brother walks away from me. He calls out to Emilia, and I look up to see her run from the house. She goes to climb into the coach, then hesitates. She breaks away and races over to me, pulling my body to hers in a fierce hug.
“I love you like a sister,” she whispers. Then she lets me go and I stumble slightly, watching her run lightly over to her husband, my brother. Now she does climb into the coach. She blows me a kiss through the air and Lysander waves a hand in farewell, before climbing in behind her and slamming the varnished door shut. There’s a click of the driver’s tongue and a snap of the reins and they’re gone.
38
I kneel by my bed, but not to pray. I lift the lid on the box that holds the clothes from my past. Tucked away among mothballs and sheets of lavender-infused paper are my nun’s habit and headdress. Faustina wanted to burn them, but I insisted on keeping some memento of that time. Now I’m glad I did.
I lift the robe and cowl and shake out the creased fabric as I go to stand before the mirror. On the dressing table is a small, stubby knife that I stole from the kitchen last night when Faustina was busy kneading bread. It’s nowhere near as sharp as a sword, but it will do.
I dress in the musty clothes, pin my hair back tightly, then arrange the cowl over my head. Soon, I am all but hidden. I barely recognize the woman who gazes back at me in the mirror. The picture of innocence. At my bedroom door, I wait on the landing, listening for noises.
Nothing.
A short while later, I stand before the public door of the Piombi. The guard stares at me, frowning.
“What are you doing here, Sister? This is no place for you.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, ducking my head, “but I wish to give comfort to one of your prisoners. The lady Allegreza. She has been a faithful supporter of our convent and it would keep the Abbess—and God—happy if I could share a few words with her.”
Perhaps the Abbess, if she knew, would call it the ultimate blasphemy, but God will surely forgive me.
The guard folds his arms and looks embarrassed. “I’m under orders to search everyone who enters. No exceptions.” I gasp meekly, and see the tide of red travel up his cheeks.
Before I came, I dug out my Bible from beneath my bed. It was covered in dust, but I gave it a cleaning, and it looks for all the world like my dearest possession. I hold it out to the guard.
“I have nothing to declare but my faith,” I say, smiling. “Feel free to search me, but this is all I carry. All I need.”
The guard clears his throat and his eyes look up and down the street. It’s thronged with people, too many to pay us much attention. He kicks the door behind him, and it opens a crack. Without shifting his stance, he jerks his head in its direction.
“Go