CHAPTER 26

“Surrender,” said the captain, a man who looked like he’d been spending his whole life at Gold’s Gym. “You are surrounded.”

I glanced back. He wasn’t faking it. Six more behind us. Both groups were about twenty feet away.

No convincing these dudes that they had the wrong foursome. No way through but through…

“Evangelia…” Luca said.

But she was already down on one knee, taking down two knights with two rapid strokes across her bow.

Every knight still on his feet charged.

Marcello glanced at Luca over my head. “Back to the water?”

“I think it’s best, yes,” he said.

They grabbed my hands and pulled, yanking me to the wall, only a short distance from men who still searched the dark waters for us. “Dive far and deep,” Marcello growled. He bent, forming a stirrup with his hand, his eyes on the men, coming fast behind us. I did not hesitate. Besides, ten against four was hardly a fair fight—and that wasn’t even counting the rest of the city’s faithful, all hoping to pierce us with their swords, arrows, or daggers.

My launch was totally lame, however, since I instinctively put my right foot in his hands, forgetting my injury, and I faltered as I felt my hamstring tighten. Fortunately, Marcello used my momentum and sent me flying as best he could.

I glimpsed Lia, already ahead of me, diving toward the water as people screamed, spotting us. I hoped our men were right behind us, but I knew I had to stay under as long as possible. Far and deep.

The water felt curiously warm this time. Maybe ’cause I’m so dang cold…hypothermic. Definitely in hypothermia territory. Hypothermia-city. Hypothermaroma. Now I was making stupid internal jokes. I really had to be losing it.

I put my hands forward and pulled, drifting with the current, and imagined an arrow piercing my back. Dimly I wondered if I would even rise to the surface once I was hit, or if in the act of drowning, I would simply take one last breath, filling my lungs with water, and then sink to the bottom, my gown catching on the stones below, forever one with the Arno.

I could not stay under any longer. I kicked and pulsed upward, knowing I needed air, despite the risk. Frowning, I tried to kick again. The dress, while it was much lighter than it had been, was still a sodden weight, clinging with frustrating dedication to my legs. I seemed to be sinking rather than making any progress. I opened my eyes, hoping to catch a glimpse of the surface, know how far I had to go to make it. But all was dark, so dark.

A hand grasped my hair, and I winced, pulled away. But then I knew it was a friend, searching for me in the inky waters. I reached up and grabbed hold of it. Male. Marcello? Luca?

We broke the surface, and I coughed and sputtered, splashing as I tried to stay above water. Without the skiff to hold on to, the gown continued to be like an anchor, trying to pull me to my death.

“Shh, I have you,” Marcello said, an arm around my chest, easing me backward onto his. I could barely make out the forms of Lia and Luca, a few feet away, swimming with us. “Almost to shore. Be at peace.”

Be at peace. Sure. I’ve about died a hundred times over in the last week. And you’re wanting me to hush and be a good girl.

I wanted to lash out at him. Scream. Weep. Laugh. All at once.

Yeah, I was pretty much losing it.

I opted for crying as we reached the rocks on the far side of the river. Then I was mad, because crying made me feel weak and lame.

He cradled me close, against him, pulling me half out of the water. Then he leaned over me, pressing me back between two giant boulders, underneath him, kissing my face and my eyes, as if trying to soothe me. What was he doing? Making a move on me when I was half frozen and half dead? Among rocks that smelled of rotting grass and fish and worse? I pushed against him.

He grabbed my wrist and leaned closer. “Shh, Gabriella, shh. Please,” he whispered. “I shall get you home, I promise. But please…They approach.”

I quieted, my weeping and crazy hiccups seeming loud in my ears, despite the rush of the water past us. I was so losing it.

We could hear the beat of horse hooves on a cobblestone road above us. Two men trailed behind, torches raised, searching the rocks.

For us.

Where were Lia and Luca?

The riders came closer, hovering horribly near us for a long moment. I was still crying, unable to stop now, my broken, choppy breath like silent screams in the night.

I shut my eyes tight, tucking my head into the crook of Marcello’s neck and collarbone, clinging to his shirt. I wanted to melt into him, summon his strength and resolve, remember myself again.

A group of horses clattered to a stop above us. “Anything?” barked a man.

“Nothing, m’lord. They’ve either swum onward or drowned.”

“Continue your search. We must not stop until we have them in hand or find their wretched corpses.”

“Yes, sir.” The torches moved on, beyond us. I choked on my own spit, trying to stay quiet, and then gasped.

One torch returned, hovering. Marcello tensed above me, my rock, my shield. I imagined him leaping from the shore, tackling the knight above us, like some defending angel of the river.

But then, after a call from downriver, the man and his torch moved on.

I gave in to my sobs. “Forgive me, Marcello. Forgive me.”

“Nay, shh. It is I who needs forgiveness. If it were not for me you would not be here, suffering—”

“Nay,” I said, reaching up and kissing his jaw, his cheeks, his lips, holding his head between my hands. “If it were not for you, I would be in that cage inside Firenze’s walls, dead, be it from the cold or from thirst.” I wished I could see him, but it was too dark.

“Come, beloved,” he said, taking my hand and helping me up.

We crawled up and through the rocks. I sighed in relief as Luca and Lia’s whispered calls reached us from the shelter of the trees on the opposite side of the road. There was a break among the groups of soldiers searching along the Arno’s banks. We had to hurry if we didn’t want to be seen.

I limped across the road beside Marcello, feeling every bit of my exhaustion. “I know of a place where we can rest until morn,” Marcello said in my ear, the trees closing in around us like a welcome blanket. “With daylight, you shall remember your strength.” Then, no doubt tiring of my slow, belabored pace, he swept me into his arms.

I leaned my forehead against his chest as he walked, steady and sure.

Luca was ahead of us, Lia behind. In that moment, I felt hope, peace. I wanted to freeze time, to feel this—my friend, my sister, and my love all around me, and, for a few seconds at least, not in grave danger. Firenze, though it was but a half mile distant, felt much farther.

We moved deeper into the forest, Marcello clearly aware of where he was going. I didn’t know if it was my desire to stay forever there, in that moment, or my exhaustion, or both, but in a few more steps, I could not keep sleep from claiming me.

I awakened on a pile of clean-smelling straw, Lia’s arm draped over my waist. Her breathing was soft and steady, her lithe body warm and welcome against my back.

Luca snored in the corner, leaning against the far wall, his hands wrapped around his sword. I looked around and found Marcello, standing in the open doorway, the rich, golden sunlight of dawn filtering around him. He was looking out, watching, but he seemed at ease, peaceful. Beyond him, the wind stirred, and oak leaves fell. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, then tucked his head, as if thinking.

I smiled. He had come for me. Saved me. How many times would this man save my life? And I his? I hoped we were getting to the end of having to go to such lengths. Surely, our luck couldn’t hold out forever.

Luck? Or God? It seemed as if something, or Someone, wanted us alive. If I were just a lucky girl I would have won the lottery or something.

Maybe I had, I thought, staring dreamily at Marcello.

He glanced over at me then, as if sensing my gaze, and gave me a soft smile, like I was some sort of vision about to disappear with the wind. He cocked his head, his smile growing, and came over to me, gently lifting Lia’s arm and helping me rise. He settled her arm so carefully, so sweetly, that I fell a little bit more in love with him right then and there.

He led me over to the doorway, and I looked out over a tiny farm, not much more than the ruins of a half-collapsed stone cottage and this small stable, still intact. He pulled me into his arms, and I leaned in against his chest, wrapping my arms around his broad back, pure muscle beneath his shirt. “Ahh, Gabriella,” he said, holding me more tightly. “How I feared I would never see you again.”

“And I you,” I said, feeling his steady pulse against my cheek. It reminded me that I was not dreaming; this was real. Thank You, God. Thank You, thank You.

We stared out into the woods for a few minutes, content to simply be in each other’s arms. But then I had to ask. “We are still in Firenze’s territory, are we not?”

“We are,” he said.

“How did you know of this place?” I asked.

He paused, then reached up above us.

I saw it, then. The dark, chiseled form of a triangle.

“What is that? I saw it on—”

He lifted a finger to his lips. “Say no more. We are brothers, sworn to silence. Our bond goes deep.”

I frowned, trying to figure out what he was saying, and stared up into his face, as if there might be more clues lingering there. “A bond beyond loyalty to the grandi of Firenze,” I said.

“Or the Nine,” he said unapologetically. “It was forged long ago.”

Some sort of club, I decided. A brotherhood. “How many?” I dared to ask.

“One over there,” he said, nodding toward Luca, as his cousin and friend snorted, started to wake, then let his head fall back against the wall with a dull thud. His snoring resumed.

I smiled. “Of course.”

“The others,” Marcello said, pulling me close again and looking out, “are much more distant. It is by the grace of God that you were taken by one.”

“But why take me at all?” I asked, frowning and pushing slightly away. “He captured me, Marcello, at the grandi’s behest. He wanted to use me so they could assassinate the Nine. And he threw me into that cursed cage in order to take your castle and force you to swear your allegiance to Firenze.” If Greco was a friend, who needed enemies? How could Marcello be excusing him?

Marcello sighed. “As a Sienese sympathizer, Rodolfo is at great risk. And yet he knew if he didn’t bring you to the grandi, Paratore would. Your only chance was with him. And his only chance was to play the role expected of him. He sent me word even before the grandi sent me their missive.”

I thought back, as I stared into the trees, to how Lord Greco had treated me. While he’d been a jerk at times, I had been way better off with him than I would’ve been with Lord Paratore. Greco had to play a role, be convincing to everyone around him.

“Rodolfo was charged with finding you and bringing you back to Firenze. And when you stumbled into their camp, dared to discover their plans…Put yourself in his place, Gabriella. What choice did he have? His intention was to use you against Siena as a weapon, convince me—or you—to betray the Nine, not see you killed.”

“He honestly believed I might betray the Nine?”

Marcello nodded. “We argued over it ourselves, at Lord Rossi’s. He tried to convince me it was the only way to avoid the bloodshed to come.”

“But you would not agree.”

“Of course not. There are other paths toward peace.”

“Greco killed some of our men. Outside Villa Orci. He was there, Marcello. How can you get past that?”

Marcello looked into the distance. “It is a hard path, when a man has divided loyalties. He had to convince the grandi of his loyalties. And now, he is in great danger. If his duplicity is discovered…”

His words trailed off. I didn’t know what to say. I remembered Rodolfo’s face beside Marcello’s on the bridge above my cage. Marcello had said that he was helping lead away the soldiers who pursued us. We probably owed him our lives.

Thoughts of the soldiers reminded me of the battles yet to come. “You must return to Siena? To aid your brother in the fight?”

He took my neck in his hands, tenderly, and nodded, staring into my eyes. “Yes. We must make haste. I came, despite my brother’s wishes.”

I became still. “Fortino forbade you to come?”

He met my gaze. “He thought it suicide. Believed we could negotiate your freedom. But from Rodolfo’s message, I knew there wouldn’t be time. I couldn’t convince Fortino, so I left.”

I took that in. Fortino had been willing to risk my death. But if it came down to saving him or saving Lia, wouldn’t I make the same decision?

“All of Siena wanted you freed,” he said. “Your suffering was truly felt by all. Had I not gone to you, the republic would never have forgiven me.” He gave me a small smile.

“Lia got there in time? To warn Fortino? Siena?”

“Indeed. Because of her, Fortino and the Sienese met the Fiorentini at the border, in time to reinforce our troops already there. When we left, Castello Forelli and Paratore were still in Sienese hands. Those to the west…” He shook his head. “We still have not heard.”

“And my mother?”

“Reportedly wild with concern, but holding up.” A slow smile spread across his face, and he cocked a brow. “It is easy to see where the She-Wolves of Siena get their strength. I dared not send her word of our plan, or she would have insisted on coming with us.”

I returned his smile. “And you? How did you escape the Fiorentini?”

“Luca was far too ill to travel far. We spent two nights in their hospital, masquerading as knights of Firenze, before he was well enough to escape.”

“It was you who were reluctant to leave their fine wine and bread,” Luca tossed out, rising and rubbing his head as if attempting to wake himself. He picked straw off his sleeve.

“Ah yes, I have already forgotten. It was I who wished to tarry in the company of our enemy,” Marcello said, a sarcastic glint in his eye. “Even though I was half mad with concern for my beloved.”

“We made it across the border,” Luca said, coming closer while giving Lia—still sleeping—a lingering, loving look, “and, as soon as we met up with the Sienese, learned of your capture. We found Evangelia and immediately set out toward Firenze.”

I gave Luca a grateful smile and then looked up at Marcello. “Can she continue to stand? Castello Forelli?”

“She shall stand,” Marcello said. “Siena has rallied her troops. Had not Evangelia alerted our side to the enemy’s intent, it might have gone far differently.”

“Castello Paratore may be lost,” Luca said.

“We do not know that,” Marcello said, obviously irritated by his words.

Luca lifted his hands and brows and took a step away.

I kept my thoughts to myself. If Castello Paratore fell back into Firenze’s hands, so be it. As long as Castello Forelli and her inhabitants were safe, I, for one, could live with it.

I hesitated. “Marcello, what of Lord Rossi? Romana? How did Fortino take the word that his future wife and father-in-law are traitors to Siena?”

He turned and stared at the doorway, as if visualizing his brother, miles away. “I am not certain he knows. He had been called upon to lead troops a good distance west of the castle, where the fighting has been fierce. But when he does find out about the Rossis’ treachery”—he looked down, then over to me—“it may well destroy him.”