Authors: Lisa T. Bergren
This time, only by six inches. But I’d missed. I couldn’t bear to look at the prisoners again. It would only remind me of the high stakes of this game…
Gabi came up to me and pulled me close, practically putting her forehead against mine so I could hear her. “You can do this, Lia. You can. Don’t get psyched out. Think back to Toscana! Of winning—”
“But that was on our home turf!” I grit out. “With my bow and arrows! This one pulls—”
“And you’ll figure out the compensation for it with three more shots. Why do you think the doge gave you his own bow? He knows better than anyone its tendencies. He wants to see you fail. He wants to hold on to our cousins.” I stared at her as she cast a furious look over my shoulder at the doge. She was somehow fiercer these days, now that she was preggers. All Mama Bear, looking like she wanted to push me aside and go take down the doge in a wrestling headlock or something. The thought of it made me want to laugh, melting a bit of my terror.
“Listen to me,” she said, holding my upper arms. “You have a full quiver. Once you find your compensation, and your rhythm, do not stop. You do best when you’re in the zone, right?”
When I said nothing, she repeated, “Right?”
“Right.”
“Good. Then get in it and stay in it. Show these Venetians what kind of She-Wolf they have in their midst. And their conniving doge, while you’re at it.”
I smiled. “On it,” I whispered.
She smiled and moved back to Marcello’s side.
Again, I settled my feet on the uneven pavers, steadied my breathing, trying to concentrate on only my own, not the collective sighs and gasps and laughs and shouts all around me. I stared at the target and fired again. This time, it went high and to the left. I’d over-compensated. I immediately drew another arrow and fired again. The fourth, the blessed, beautiful fourth, landed dead center. The crowd crackled with shouts, but I ignored them, immediately notching the fifth arrow, and fired, aiming directly above the last. It hit exactly where I intended.
I drew my sixth arrow as I paced to the right, even as the doge was shouting at the crowd to quiet. I fired even as I still moved, taking off the first man’s apple. The next guy—the one who had wet himself—trembled so hard that the apple fell, but I pierced it at his side before it reached the ground, the arrow tunneling into the wood of a doorway behind him. I dispatched the next three in quick order, never pausing, the crowd becoming nothing but the dim, distant sound of an ocean wave in my mind.
Only before the last man did I pause for a second, recognizing that it would heighten the drama and further secure my favor. Then I let the arrow fly and without waiting for it to strike, whirled and strode the few paces over to the doge, who stood there, mouth agape. I withdrew my final arrow and knelt before him on the stair, knowing from the sounds of jubilation all around me that I had succeeded with the last as well. I lifted the arrow higher to him.
“With one to spare, my prince,” I said. And I couldn’t keep from smiling in victory, even as my legs trembled.
His mouth abruptly closed, and I saw that sincere admiration had won over his wounded pride. I’d done all he’d asked, and the people’s complaints would be resolved now. He stepped toward me and took the arrow in one hand, offering me his other. I took it and rose, and the people cheered even more loudly. How did they have any voices left at all?
Side by side, we accepted their praise.
“Clearly,” he said from the corner of his mouth, “I’ve underestimated the She-Wolves of Siena. You are all Firenze fears. And more.”
“Better yet,” I returned. “We are all that Siena loves. And hope to be similarly loved by our new friends here, Serenissimo.”
He nodded, giving me grudging respect. “You and I,” he said. “We shall be fast friends. And with me as your friend, you shall not fear Firenze quite as much, yes?”
I flashed him my most winning smile. “With you as our friend, we shall not fear them at all.”
~EVANGELIA~
My nerves gradually steadied as the night wore on. With some food in my belly and a glass of wine, I relaxed into the party atmosphere, dancing with Luca, gently refusing everyone else, each emotion heightened as I saw the hope kindle in his eyes in response to my ongoing favor, my ongoing engagement.
I even rebuffed Nicolo lo Grato, Luca’s cousin, who was clearly miffed and just as clearly back into the wine.
“Saints in heaven,” Luca said to me, as he shook his head at another potential dancing partner, warning him off. “I fell in love with you the first day I saw you with bow in hand. But today…Evangelia, I’ve never seen such grace under fire. You fairly made my heart want to burst.”
“Thank you, Luca,” I said. “As Tomas says, it is with God’s grace that I was able to do any of it. And thanks to Gabi’s encouragement. And yours. Without you…” I shook my head.
He moved to touch my face, seemed to remember himself, and dropped his hand. “Without any of us, you still would have done what you had to.”
I smiled up at him. And kept smiling as the evening faded into deep night. The Venetians, it appeared, liked to party into the wee hours. But the longer the crowds lingered, the more I wanted to only be away, alone with Luca.
I wanted to be
just us
so badly. It’d been weeks since we’d had the chance, since that horrible day of our argument, really. But here, in this city, after all that had transpired, the idea of it seemed hopeless. I fantasized about a lovely, romantic gondola ride, alone with him. But that was for couples of the future. These days, the only gondola-like boats were used purely for transportation, not romantic interludes on secluded canals.
But as we circled in one of the final dances, my hand against his above our heads, our faces inches apart, I dared to whisper, “I need to see you tonight, Luca. Alone.”
His green eyes widened in surprise.
We broke apart with the next steps of the dance and, when we returned to the previous position, he said eagerly, “There is a small stairway to the rooftop down the hall from your room. Have one of my men escort you up as soon as you can.” His eyes were pools of swirling hope, desire, tension.
I nodded.
Thankfully, Gabi soon pulled me aside. “I need to say my good-nights and get this bulbous bod to bed.”
“Take me with you, please,” I whispered. “I’m exhausted.”
“I bet you are.”
Marcello and Luca and my folks joined us, and as one, we said our farewells to our host and hostess.
“Until the morrow,” the doge said, his face slack with wine and laughter.
“Thank you for a most memorable night,” said the dogaressa.
A few more curtseys, a few more bows, and we were finally outta there. I couldn’t wait to take off the constricting white gown, to slip on my nightgown, but it would have to wait. Until after I saw Luca. And he said he thought me beautiful in the dress…
I disentangled myself from my family, accepting their last hugs and kisses of the night as if I had nothing else on my mind other than sleep, then closed the door. I leaned my ear against the wood, listening to footsteps fade, doors close, and then the silence. I told myself to count to five hundred. And not the fast way, but the
one-Mississippi, two-Mississippi, three-Mississippi
way.
At about the four-hundred mark, I heard more revelers careen down the hallway and then disappear behind their own doors, but no others. Carefully, I cracked open the door and peered outside. As expected, there were two Forelli knights poised on guard, Baldarino and Lutterius. I exited, trying not to look like I was sneaking.
I closed the door and looked up at Lutterius. “I would like to be escorted to the roof top.”
He was clearly trying to hold back a grin. “Right away, my lady,” he said, gesturing toward the end of the hall. There, I spied the outline of a door in the paneling. Baldarino led the way, and Lutterius remained beside me. By the bounce in their step, it was clear Luca had taken them into his confidence. I knew that I’d practically broken every Forelli knight’s heart when I denied their captain and we’d fallen apart. They were hoping this was our big reunion. Just as I was, really.
If he’d have me. If I hadn’t hurt him too badly…
Baldarino pushed on the panel and it popped open, revealing a tiny, curving stairway. “Watch your step, my lady,” he said over his shoulder.
I followed him upward, Lutterius a few paces behind me, taking care to not step on my skirt’s train. Two floors up, we were out on the rooftop of the Palazzo Ducale, and I sucked in my breath. Below us, to the right, in the piazzeta, were the last of the revelers. Some were sleeping on the stones, oblivious to the damp chill of the deep November night. In my haste, I’d forgotten to grab a wrap, so solely focused on seeing Luca I’d been. I rubbed my arms, hoping to generate some warmth, when I saw him turning the corner.
The knights at my side stopped alongside me.
Luca strode up to us and looked to the men. “
Grazie
, friends. Please form a guard as the Lady Evangelia and I…” He paused to take my hand and lift it to his lips, a wild, hopeful grin lighting up his eyes. “Converse.”
I sensed the two men turn their backs to us and take several steps away, giving us a modicum of privacy. There were ducale knights up here too, of course, keeping watch.
But my attention was on one knight alone.
My knight.
Luca Forelli.
He took my hand and led me to the far edge, where he lifted a blanket.
My thoughtful knight.
I looked out at the quiet lagoon, ship masts bobbing on the low, slow waves, the water so still that it reflected the three-quarter moon. Sailors’ laughter and banter rolled across the lagoon, making us feel like we were all part of some magnificent, wondrous party, far more intimate than the revelry in the piazza had been.
Luca lifted the blanket and looked at me. “Cold?”
I nodded.
He unfolded the blanket around his shoulders, the length of it falling to the floor. Then he wrapped his arms around me, enveloping me in it too. “Better?”
“Better,” I grinned up at him. I rested my head against his shoulder.
“Saints above, Evangelia,” he moaned. “How I’ve missed you. How I’ve missed this—being close to you.”
“And I, you,” I said. We stood there for several long minutes, just appreciating the connection, the shared heat, the familiar smells. I wanted him to kiss me. But that could wait.
“What changed today?” he asked hesitantly.
I took a deep breath and turned toward the rail, looking out at the lagoon again. He settled in behind me, rearranging the blanket to better cover me. Waiting. I leaned into him, liking the feel of his strong torso behind my back, his arms around me, cocooning me, protecting me.
“It’s difficult to explain. But I think…I think in meeting Orazio and Galileo, in knowing of this new tunnel and thinking again of going back, of leaving this place…” I shook my head and then looked over my shoulder at him. “It was as if in that moment,” I whispered, my eyes not leaving his, “I knew I could never leave. Leave
you
, Luca. I mean, I knew I was staying before. But it was as if…as if I’d agreed to stay for my parents. For Gabi and Marcello. But today…today, it became my choice too. Wholly mine. For me. For you. For us.”
“Evangelia,” he whispered huskily, his eyebrows hunched, as if every word from my lips was miraculous. “Could it be true? Does this mean that you will be mine? My wife?”
I slowly turned around and lifted my arms to encircle his neck. He pulled me closer, his hands roaming my back as hard and as fast as his eyes searched mine, waiting.
“If you will still have me,” I whispered at last.
His breath left his chest in a huff of a laugh, his eyes alight, his grin spreading like a contagion. My knight. The man who could always make me smile.
Then his grin morphed into pent-up desire and hope and joy, all at once. One hand left my back and went to my face, and he cupped my cheek. “Would I have you? Every day, every night, for the rest of my life. My heart has always been yours, Evangelia. You’ve ruled me, as a queen rules her servant. I live for God, for the House Forelli, and to be your man.”
“My heart has always been yours, Luca,” I said coyly, smiling up at him. “And now your queen commands you to kiss her.”
“Oh, she does, does she?” He smiled and leaned closer toward my face, teasing me, nuzzling me, letting his breath wash over my skin like a caress. I closed my eyes, enjoying the sensation of his proximity at last, the nearness, the heat of him. And then I tilted my head just a bit higher, until our lips brushed at his next pass. He froze in surprise. But without further invitation he kissed me then, in earnest. Plying my lips apart, hungry, searching, demanding.
I thought I could kiss him all night. We’d kissed before, but never with such abandon. He’d always been so cautious, careful with my reputation, my virtue. But now that I was to be his…well, his kisses promised me many days and nights of passion ahead. He pulled back and looked at me in wonder, searching every inch of my face as if I was brand new to him, as if he were trying to memorize me. And then I couldn’t stand it any longer and pressed up on my tiptoes to kiss him again.
“Oh, my Lia, my beautiful Evangelia,” he said in a whisper, pulling back and gently bending my head to the side. He planted tiny kisses across my cheek and slowly, delectably, down my neck, pausing at the clavicle. There, he hovered. “Please,” he said, kissing me there again, the breath from his words sending shivers down my arms. “Tell me that we can marry soon.”
“Soon,” I said, our years of courting suddenly ramming into a tiny bottle of anticipation.
“Very, very, soon,” he said, moving back up my neck with his tiny, fabulous, kisses. How could lips do such things to a person?
“Here-soon,” I said, kissing him on the lips again.
“
Here
-soon?” he repeated, pausing halfway up my neck. “Not in Siena?”
“
Here
-soon,” I said in mock demand.