Heart of Glass - By Sasha Gould Page 0,94

hostile.

“We have nothing to say to each other,” I tell him.

“Now, now,” Vincenzo replies. “Can’t we both be happy?”

I’m actually grateful when Massimo comes to our side. The Bear is wearing a puffed-up velvet jacket. He motions to a passing servant, who holds out glasses of wine on a tray. Massimo hands one to me. “Could you excuse us?” he says to Vincenzo.

The old man looks disappointed, but he bows. “Of course.”

When he’s gone, Massimo smiles. “You looked like you needed rescuing.”

I take a few polite sips of wine. We make small talk about the good fortune of the city, and he even says how foolish he felt on learning of Halim’s deception. But his cold eyes watch me carefully, searching for my reaction to his words. I cast my eyes around for Roberto, and can’t see him anywhere. I can hear my father laughing from across the room—deep, drunken guffaws.

“Tell me, Laura,” says Massimo suddenly, “what do you think of these women called the Segreta?”

The air suddenly feels hotter, and I quickly swallow a mouthful of wine. Does he know? Could he?

“I’m sure their malign influence has been blown out of proportion,” I say.

“They tell me you were close to Allegreza.”

I hold his gaze. “I was,” I say, “which is why I have such doubts about the power or even existence of any secret society. I feel she would not have kept it from me. At any rate, it sounds rather far-fetched.”

Massimo raises his own goblet, grinning. “Quite right!” he says. “Here’s to the future—whatever it may hold.” We clink glasses, and I take another sip.

Roberto arrives at last and holds out a hand. “May I have this dance?” he asks.

Placing my wine on a passing tray, I turn to Massimo. “It was a pleasure speaking with you.”

“Perhaps we shall do so again,” he replies.

When we’ve walked away to where others are dancing, Roberto asks, “What was that all about?”

“I still don’t trust that man,” I say.

We link the crooks of our arms and circle one another. “Can’t you forget about it?” says Roberto. “Tonight’s supposed to be a celebration. Just enjoy yourself.”

The steps of the dance are simple, but as we turn on the spot, I feel a little dizzy and stumble. Roberto catches me. “Are you all right?”

“I think so,” I say. There’s a dull pain building across the front of my head. “Too much wine, maybe.”

“Perhaps I should take you home?”

I hold a hand to my brow as Roberto steers me through the crowds. From the edge of my blurred vision, I see him gesturing to someone; then suddenly my old nurse is beside me, holding me up.

“Child, what’s happened to you?” Faustina asks. I find I can’t answer; my lips won’t work.

She and Roberto help me into a coach stationed beneath an archway, safely away from prying eyes.

“I’ll be fine in a moment,” I say, but I can hear my own voice slurring.

Roberto presses a hand against my shoulder, forcing me to sink back on the cushioned seats of the coach. The look of concern on his face frightens me. “You need rest. Driver, take her home.”

I don’t have the energy to protest. It has been such an anxious few days. Perhaps all I need is sleep.

When I wake, the tang of salty air stirs in my nostrils. I sit up, my body lurching to one side. The pain in my head is still there, worse than before. Cautiously, I squint out from behind my eyelashes and see the darting points of waves. Where am I?

I snap my eyes open, dim sunlight making them water. My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth, and I gaze down at my black velvet skirt. Wasn’t I wearing this in the ballroom? Where am I now? How long have I been sleeping in my gown?

“I don’t understand,” I mumble, glancing around me.

We’re in a white-painted rowing boat. Faustina huddles in the prow, weeping softly, while two men stand, each maneuvering an oar through the water. “I tried to stop them,” she says, seeming to plead for my forgiveness.

Beyond Faustina’s shoulders, Venice recedes out of sight. The pointed tower of St. Mark’s has grown so small that I can barely see the gilded angel that sits on top of the belfry. The boat swings on the choppy waves beyond our city’s harbor, and nausea squirms in my stomach.

I hear a cruel laugh behind me. I twist round on the bench I’m slumped on and see Faruk watching me.

“Welcome