Lost in the City of Flowers (The Histories of Idan Book 1) (26 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY

Window

Run? Where am I going to run to? You forgot to leave the address of your hideout, Mrs. Reed,
I thought bitterly, crumpling the note in my hand.

“Open the door!” repeated the man behind the door. Antonio walked to the door.

“What does it say?” asked Leonardo but the question was lost in the chaos that ensued when Antonio opened the door. An official guard clad in half armor crossed the humble threshold. A cold breeze broke through the room’s comfort.

“I’m here to escort Viola Orofino to the Palazzo della Signoria,” he said.

Zia approached him, armed with her renewed vigor, looking as though she could take him down in one blow. Antonio stood between them, unsure of what to do. For a brief moment I debated running out through the pantry door, past Georgina’s raggedy coop, and down the alley. The guard was tall. I could tell by his wide calves that tapered from his tunic that it would not be long before I would feel his hand yanking my sweater collar. The guard’s eyebrows reared in shock at Zia’s harsh protective threats. It was unclear whether he moved towards me to escape Zia or to seize me.

“Wait!” I yelled over the confusion. “I will go … Lorenzo and I have an appointment after all,” I admitted to the surprise of all. “I apologize for being late. Signore Medici must have been worried and sent you, right?” The guard looked uneasily around the room and cleared his throat.

“
Si
,” he said.

I crossed the distance that separated Ginerva and me. Margherita’s eyes winced as I moved her from out of the woolen womb. I bent my head to kiss her fuzzy forehead. It was heartbreaking to nuzzle my nose against her smooth skin. Hints of our adventure remained in the lavender notes that stuck to her dark hair. As I gently offered her up to Ginerva, I was saying a prolonged goodbye to her mother.

“I hope you give her a beautiful beginning,” I said, peeling the sling from the dry blood that had gathered beneath the wool.

It was good to see the motherly spark in Ginerva’s face before I followed the guard towards the entrance. Zia grabbed my sleeve before I made it to the door. I did not mean to be such a coward. Although I knew it would be hard to say farewell to Margherita, the idea of leaving Zia forever was unthinkable. Deep down, I thought it would leave a gash so profound that nothing would stitch it together. She had welcomed, clothed, and loved me with all the sensitivity that only a selfless mother could offer. Tears ran through the wrinkles of her face. I gathered all my bravery to spare her any grief.

“Why are you crying, Zia?” I asked steadying my trembling mouth. “I’ll be back soon.”

“You say that, but I don’t believe you, my sweet Viola.”

“How can you be so sad? Look what a happy family I leave you with.”

“But you are also my family,” she said. Her knuckles whitened as she gripped my wrist. I squeezed her tightly against me and kissed her grey scalp.

“I love you, Zia,” I whispered as drops rolled down my nose. I looked up at Leonardo for comfort, but his sulk left me wanting. The guard clutched my arm and pulled me out the door. I looked behind my shoulder to the despondent huddle that stared after us. “There is no need for you to hold on to me,” I said.

“Pardon?” 

“I’m a terrible runner,” I said, drying my face with my free hand.

He did not let go but his grip loosened when we turned onto the Piazza della Signoria. The clouds’ drizzle only added to the low fog that fumed about the square. As we drew near a set of guards opened its doors. The entrance opened onto a large courtyard supported by massive columns, thick with elaborate carvings of winged figures flying among splendid gardens. I walked into the courtyard, but the guard directed me to a staircase that broke off from the entrance. He guided me through a room with gold coffered ceilings that harbored dozens of glittering rosettes and gilded lilies. It was not until we walked through the next room that the guard let go of me. Lorenzo sat at a long table that stretched the length of the narrow room.

“So good of you to come,” he said without lifting his eyes from the paper.

“It didn’t seem like I had much of a choice,” I said.

Lorenzo raised his eyes but the hand armed with the quill finished its thought. Crossing his arms, he leaned back against the chair’s stiff bolted leather.

“Do you like choices?” he asked. I let the trick questions pass away unanswered. “I promise to give you a choice in a few moments.” He stood up abruptly. “No need to worry … I always keep my promises. Unlike a certain little flower I know.”

“I never bro—”

“You broke an engagement,” he said harshly. “Pray do not interrupt me. I cannot abide it.” As he strode across the room, the sound of his boots’ heels dampened against the tapestries that hung along the walls. “I’m a busy man, Viola. So when I tell you to meet me at sunset that means …”

I stared at my shoes, unwilling to play his game. He forced my head up with his right hand. I could see the veins around his temples burn and his mouth twitch with irritation.

“Bind her hands and then you may leave us, Alessandro.” The guard clasped my hands behind my back and wrapped them tightly with rope before leaving the room. Lorenzo let go of my face and held his hand out expectantly. “I do not mean to be impertinent, but I am sure you will understand,” he said, slithering his frozen fingers around my neck. I cringed as they grasped Idan’s chain and pulled it. “I am upset, Viola.” He smiled at Idan’s intricate cover. “Do you know why?” I said nothing. “Because I don’t enjoy acting the role of a tyrant,” he continued. “You see, I never asked for this …” He gestured towards his surroundings. “In order for my family to survive, it is my duty to maintain and foster the power that has been given to me most unwillingly.” He moved towards the fireplace. “You see, I am just a scholar with little … time. I need it to pursue what I love.” He walked closer to the fire. “It is not a selfish mission … All humanity will benefit from every discovery I make and every artist I employ to realize my vision. Now, enough about me, tell me about yourself and Idan of course.”

He opened Idan’s case. As he peered down at its face, his shoulders tightened and his back arched. Long minutes of eerie silence slipped past. Even the flames burned without sound. I looked up at the woven angels for help but none came. His jaw had loosened from his scowl, and his eyes gaped at the pocket watch.

“I did not bring you here to listen to myself. You shall speak. If you choose not to, you will regret that choice, my dear,” he said, pulling out a knife from his belt.

“My name is Viola Orofino,” I broke.

“Is it really?” he asked, putting Idan’s chain around his neck.

“Yes.”

“And you come from where?”

“I don’t remember.”

“How convenient,” he said, piercing an orange from the table’s fruit bowl with his knife. “I did not want to remind you, but you leave me no choice.” He peeled away its skin. “Do you remember those papers Giuliano gave you at the workshop? Well, as they clearly state, you are my guest. As a result, I am the only one vouching for your legitimacy. Unfortunately for you, your status has changed.” He held a piece of parchment to my face.

“I am a prisoner?” I read aloud.

“It is a shame.”

“On what grounds?”

“I have yet to decide.” He popped an orange crescent in his mouth.

“You can’t hold me if I haven’t done anything wrong,” I said.

“How interesting it must be where you come from.” He laughed. “I do not need to remind you where you are because threats will only anger me. I hate dealing them out, so be a good girl and your punishment will be less severe.” He sighed. “Now I trust you will be more forthcoming with your answers.” Juice dripped down his chin. “Explain to me how Idan works? What do all these numbers mean?”

“They have to do with the time we are in right now. Three of the numbers show the date it is today. The other tells you the days I have left till the door opens.”

“What door?”

“The metal door that faces into the Piazza della Signoria.”

“There is no metal door there.”

“It’s painted to look like wood.”

“It shows the number one?”

“The door will open at dawn the day after tomorrow.” I cringed watching him handle Idan with his sticky fingers. “It’s my only chance to get back home.”

“You have yet to tell me how to control it,” he wiped the juice off his chin with his red sleeve.

“No one can … at least, I don’t know how.”

“Do not lie to me, girl.” He dropped the orange rinds on the floor.

“I’m not, I swear,” I pleaded.

“It is hard to believe you when everything that has come out of your mouth has been a lie. Where would this door take me?”

“If it did, it would take you to the future.”

“How far?”

“About six hundred years.” Lorenzo looked hungrily at Idan.

“How would I get back here?” he asked.

“Again, I don’t know.”

“Why did you come?”

“I was tricked,” I said.

“It is quite sad that you have never had control over your own circumstances … sort of like now,” he said, chewing on the last orange slice. “I think this conversation is at its end … at least for now.”

“What about my choice?”

“Oh yes, thank you for reminding me,” he said, cleaning the sharp knife on the tablecloth. “So you get to decide where you stay. I can offer you a cell in Le Stiche, which has a wide variety of vermin, a potent stench, and is overcrowded with prisoners of all sorts. Or, you could stay in the tower here at the Signoria. I should warn you it is awfully high and cold wind blows through there. What shall it be?”

“The tower.”

“Excellent, that is most convenient for me as well.” He smiled. “Alessandro! Come in.” The door flew open. “You can take her to the tower,” he ordered.

“Under what charges?” I yelled as Alessandro led me by the neck.

“I am not sure, but I am leaning towards stealing.”

“
What
!” I protested. “I have never stolen a thing in my life.” 

“It was that or imprisoning you for breaking our dress and gender laws with all that Massimo nonsense. The fact stands, Viola, that you have no record of your identity. Therefore, I am the one writing your past, and let us be honest, your future.”

“But why stealing?”

“What a coincidence it is that the day you arrive in Florence, my family’s Donatello statue of
David
goes missing.”

“You have no proof!”

“I do not need it. You may take her now,” he repeated to Alessandro.

“What’s the punishment?” I asked, dragging my rubber heels against the tile floor.

“Death.”

I scrambled to escape Alessandro, but it was too late for that. My legs and arms flailed, but the guard merely pulled me over his shoulder and carried me out of the room and through the gold-ceilinged room. His breathing struggled with each step he took up the stairs. Judging by his balding head and the broken veins around his handsome nose, I guessed he was about fifty. His shoulders shook from supporting my body weight.

“You can put me down now,” I said, but he continued to fight. After ten more minutes of slow progress, he caved.

“Go on ahead then,” he heaved as he let me down.

We climbed up two flickering flights of stairs dripping with candle wax. The steps ended at the crenelated battlement that bulked out of the building below. Sand covered the floor that soldiers paced back and forth. Between the battlement’s steps, I looked down at the few lights that burned in the city below.

“No point now that you have nowhere to escape,” said Alessandro cutting the rope that bound my hands. “That way.” He pointed towards the tower. There was a small platform before entering the tower’s spiraling staircase. Before we reached the top, Alessandro stopped short of a low door that broke away from the steps. He fumbled with a heavy set of keys until the door opened. “In you go,” said Alessandro. I ducked into the cell but someone was already there.

“Alessandro,” said Giuliano, “I would like a few moments alone with Viola. Would you keep a watch outside to make sure we are undisturbed?” Alessandro looked uncomfortable with this situation.

He cleared his throat and pulled at the tight armor around his neck. “I was given orders that she was to have no visitors.”

“I too rule here and my word is equal to my brother’s,” retorted Giuliano. Alessandro’s shrug told me that it clearly was not the case.

“Come, Viola,” said Giuliano.

“I don’t want to even be in the same room as you. Let alone listen to you,” I said.

“Please … You’ll want to hear what I have to say.”

“I doubt it.” Alessandro closed the cell door. I moved to the farthest corner from Giuliano in that small stone chamber. Pale beams traveled through the only tall window casting a faint outline on the dusty floor. In the dark it was hard to tell how far up I was.

“I came to apologize for how things turned out,” said Giuliano, twisting the leather brim of his hat.

“Oh that’s nice to know because I am too. I’m really sorry that I fell for your act … let alone allowing you to kiss me.”

“I meant what I said in the garden. I really do care about you.”

“If that’s true, what am I doing stuck up in a tower?”

“I think my brother is just trying to frighten you. He would not go through with a hanging.”

“You think?” I hated his beautiful face so much that I could not think straight. “How did you know I was here?”

“I was listening from behind the door while you spoke with my brother.”

“Why didn’t you stick up for me?” I asked. He ran a hand through his curls. “I thought I was a coward until I met you. You give a new definition to the word.” I slumped against the corner until I felt my knees hit my chest.

“I wanted to! But my brother rarely listens to me.”

“Oh! He only listens to you after you spy on me and manipulate me with fake compliments and shady gifts.”

“Any word about your person that has left my lips has been genuine!” exclaimed Giuliano. The wind howled during the quiet recess. “I brought you something,” he placed a wool blanket on the only piece of furniture in the cell, a rigid bench. “My grandfather Cosimo was imprisoned here at one point. Every time I asked him about it he would always tell me how cold it was and that was in the month of September, so I brought this blanket and I’ll leave my cloak too,” he said, unclasping the dark purple fabric that draped over his body.