DELUGE (6 page)

Mom blanched, and I saw that Rodolfo took this in, too, looking quickly to me. “Are they truly kin to you?” he asked.

“Nay,” I said. “I mean, I do not think so…” I sought Dad’s help with a look.

“How old were they?” Dad asked. “What were their given names?”

Rodolfo shook his head. “I never heard them. Did you, Alessandra?”

“Nay.”

“The doge simply took to calling them He-Wolves, but seemed agitated when they refused to continue telling their tales.”

My mind raced. The doge, the Head Cheese of Venice and Genoa, commander of the biggest navy in our medieval world, was not one to mess with.

“How old are these men?” Lia asked.

“I’d say no older than twenty.”

Dad closed his eyes and heaved a sigh, as if whirling.

“We must go to them. Surely they’re related to us in some manner,” Mom said.

“Or it’s simply a ruse,” Luca said easily to Marcello. “The doge has long been interested in bringing Gabriella and Evangelia to court. You’ve turned down one or two invitations?”

“Three,” Marcello said, nodding at his captain, chin in hand as he stood and began pacing.

Rodolfo squinted at them.

“Those men could be actors,” Marcello said. “Weaving an elaborate net so that the doge can finally get the elusive She-Wolves of Siena to court.”

“But you’ve never said the doge meant us harm,” I said. “Only that he was curious.”

“The man collects people as some women do jewels,” Rodolfo said. “It undoubtedly chafes that you haven’t yet attended him. He shall endeavor to keep you at court all winter, should you give him the opportunity.”

“But he also casts people aside without a thought. Imprisons those who agitate him,” Luca said. “Exiles others. I am not certain we should allow our Betarrinis to be any closer to
those
Betarrinis, be they related or not.”

“If they are possibly family,” Dad said, “we must go to them, Luca. We must.” He was frightened. Frightened that these newcomers would inadvertently compromise us and all we’d built here. And his fear freaked me out more than anything.

“The boys—these young men,” Mom said. “Were they truly from Ravenna? Or did their accent sound as if they hailed from Brittania and Normandy, as we did?” She held her gaze steady, but I wasn’t the only one who noticed her voice rise. I’m sure Rodolfo hadn’t missed it.

“I heard nothing of other lands,” he said, probably thinking of our whole Brittania/Normandy story anew. “Only Ravenna.”

I stood and edged away. I needed some fresh air. Space to think. Mumbling an excuse, I walked down a wide, tall hallway to a small room that functioned as a guest bathroom—little more than a corner pail to squat over, and a wash basin and pitcher—even though I didn’t need to go. I leaned my head against the door, my mind racing.

Was it possible? Was there some sort of weird Betarrini gene that allowed us all to time travel? Was the tunnel only open between medieval times and the future? Would it someday close? Were these boys from the year we’d left? Or another? We had to speak to them. As soon as possible.

With shaking hands I poured water into the basin and hurriedly splashed my face before exiting.

He was there, waiting.

Lord Greco. Leaning against the far wall, arms crossed. I could hear the continued, agitated conversation emanating from the Great Hall. Ongoing debate between my family and Luca.

“Will you tell me the truth now, Gabriella?” Rodolfo said softly, unmoving. “About where you are truly from?”

There was no accusation in his tone, only gentle prodding.

“You know where I am from,” I said, walking past him. I needed to get back to Marcello, let him field Rodolfo’s questions, decide what to tell him—and what not to.

But he hurried after me, grabbing my arm and swinging me around to face him.

I frowned. “Rodolfo, let
go
of me.”

He ignored my demand and instead took my other arm, too. “Tell me,” he pleaded, leaning forward. “I want to help. I want to protect you. And your sister,” he added hurriedly. “Your whole family. You are my kin now, too.”

“But they are
my
responsibility first,” Marcello said coldly from ten paces behind me. I froze, feeling unaccountably guilty, even though I’d done nothing. “Unhand my wife.”

“You are keeping something from me,” Rodolfo said, still staring at me, not dropping his hands. In fact, his grip tightened. “Tell me, Gabriella. I’ve seen things in that tomb that I think you might be able to explain—”

Marcello strode toward us, and I felt the tension of old jealousies, of boundaries crossed—and pushed Rodolfo’s hands away myself before my husband reached us. I had to find a way to settle them down before it turned into a fight…

Rodolfo slowly turned toward Marcello as I took my husband’s arm. “You tell me then, brother,” he said, gesturing in frustration, to me. “Tell me exactly what is behind all of this. I think I deserve the truth. Because it shall not be long before what affects Castello Forelli affects Castello Greco. And your wife is not truly from Normandy or
Brittania
. Is she?”

“You have all the truth you need,” Marcello ground out, staring back into his eyes, cheek muscles clenching. I dropped my hand and paced away, afraid Greco would read my expression of fear and make things worse.

“Why? Why can you not simply tell me? Your brother at arms. Your brother who has sacrificed everything for you, for Gabriella…”

Marcello shook his head and sighed. He gestured up and around the opulent hall. “This is hardly a hovel.” He sighed, struggling to regain his composure, and then reached out, palm up. “Can you not simply trust me, Rodolfo? Trust us? As you always have before? Have I given you cause to doubt me?”

Rodolfo stared at him a good long while before grudgingly gripping his arm to the elbow and pulling his face close, all sober intent. “You shall tell me before it becomes a crisis?”

“Don’t I always?” Marcello asked, a hint of a grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

But Rodolfo wasn’t ready to joke around. “Upon my life, Forelli, if this costs me…If Alessandra is hurt in this…”

“She shall not be. Neither shall you,” Marcello said, instantly serious again. “It is our puzzle alone to unravel, these mysterious potential kin. We shall do our best to keep you out of it. You have my word.”

“But I do not
wish
to be out of it,” Rodolfo said, brow lowering. “Don’t you see? I wish to stand with you. For the first time, I’m free to do so as a fellow Sienese. Why not bring me into your confidence?”

“Because the fewer who know what lies beneath this, the better,” Marcello growled in frustration. “Some things are that way. You know that more than anyone, yes?”

The two stood there, staring at each other. Then Marcello took a deep breath and forced a lighter expression to his face. “It appears we must now take our leave so that we can make preparations for a visit to Venezia. I need you to stand in my stead, seeing the harvest feast through. You shall do so for me? Leo knows everything you must—he shall be by your side from beginning to end.”

Rodolfo said nothing, only looking stricken, frustrated. Then he nodded once.

Marcello turned to me, waiting as if I’d just returned to a dance floor after a trip to the bathroom. I walked toward him, my legs feeling like jelly, my nausea—forgotten with my first trimester—suddenly rearing its ugly head again.
It’d be super cool if I vomited my guts out right now. Yeah, that’d top off the evening just right…

I concentrated on breathing slowly and deeply, in and out my nose, taking comfort in the solid strength of my husband’s hand at my lower back. Out in the Great Room, we hurriedly thanked Alessandra, kissing her on both cheeks, and made our way out.

“Well, on the bright side, we won’t have to talk the clan into going to Venezia,” I whispered to Lia as we walked out into the courtyard. “It’s as good as done.”

“I wanted a pleasure trip,” she moaned.

“Yeah, well, you can’t get everything.”

Marcello lifted me to my saddle, and I noticed that this time, Luca wordlessly lifted Lia to hers. Neither spoke, nor looked at each other, but it was as if the threat of this new development brought them a step closer. As if they both needed the other, even if they couldn’t admit it.

Rodolfo took Dad’s arm and then Luca’s. Last, Marcello’s.

“Remember, as much as you view the Fiorentini
Grandi
as a nest of vipers, they pale in comparison to the Venetians and their doge.”

“I understand,” Marcello said, no trace of fear in his tone.

“I hope you do, brother,” Rodolfo said, releasing him. “I hope you do.”

CHAPTER FIVE

~EVANGELIA~

We powwowed at home, squirreled away in Marcello and Gabi’s library, with guards posted downstairs, making certain none of the many people in the castle might wander near enough to hear us. Still, we spoke in hushed voices. Marcello and Dad paced. Luca stood against the wall, arms folded, watching, waiting. Mom sat in a chair, nervously twisting a handkerchief.

“We have to go to them,” Gabi said again. “Bring them here. They must be wild with fear.”

Marcello shook his head, chin in hand. “Or would we be safer staying as far from them as possible?”

Gabi and I shared a look.
There goes the trip to Venezia—

“Their name already ties them to you,” Marcello continued. “What if they say—what if they’ve
already
said things that incriminate them as fortune tellers or diviners? Some might say they’re warlocks!” He lifted a hand to emphasize his words, then dropped it. “The doge keeps them as entertainment, much as you might traveling actors. But soon he will weary of their wild tales.”

“You’ve never told us of the future,” Luca said evenly, his keen green eyes flicking over me before turning to Dad. “How difficult would it be to believe their tales?”

“
Difficult
. There are many reasons we don’t speak of it,” Dad said, slicing his hand through the air. “It is terribly dangerous. Not only because it would sound so outlandish, but because it might change the future forever. It’s difficult being here, watching everything we do, say…”

“And yet with every day that passes,” Mom said, “
they
might be saying more and more.”

“Mayhap they’re too frightened to say anything,” Gabi said. “It took a few days for me to realize—to accept—that I was really here. In this time. But once that happened, I realized that the more I said, the more I might be in danger.”

“Me, too,” I said.

“Some of us must go, Marcello,” Dad said gently. “Surely you see why. They are kin of some sort. And may be in danger. If no one else can go,
I
must go to them. I have no choice.”

Mom rose, stately, elegant, and took his arm. “And I will go with him.”

“You two aren’t going without me,” Gabi said. “
Us
,” she amended, her pretty brown brows knitting together as she looked from me to her husband. I breathed a sigh of relief, knowing he’d be hard-pressed to turn the three of them down. “Please, Marcello. Please. We must do what we can for them.”

Marcello cast a helpless look to Luca, and Luca threw out a hand, saying, “They might be able to contain the damage. Bring these gentlemen back here, or assist them back to the tomb from which they emerged, so they can return to…Normandy.”

The two cousins stared at each other, then Marcello nodded curtly and rounded his desk, uncorking his ink. “Very well. We shall go to the coast and sail for Venezia in two days’ time.” He looked up at Gabi, pointing at her with the end of his quill. “And we shall use your approaching confinement as reason for our timely return.”

She nodded happily and then cast me a sly glance.

I resisted the urge to clap in anticipation. We were going to Venice at last!

For the oddest family reunion ever.

***

I was so excited about Venice and meeting these new Betarrini cousins that it was hard to get to sleep that night. It all was such a welcome change from stewing over Luca and what to do about him, about the plague, only a couple of years away…what to do about my life in general, really. Now all I could think about was these guys in Venice, and how they were related, if they were related and—

Mom took my arm as we crossed the courtyard the next morning. “All I can think about is Venice and all the medicines and herbs I might have access to. But I have to say that Greco’s comments last night have me worried. I think he’s seen the handprints in Tomb Two. And the fact that he was putting these new Betarrinis’ story together with us, somehow…”

“Gabi did say that Rodolfo saw something in the tomb that he thought she could explain. What could he mean?”

Mom stared at me and shook her head slightly, trying to figure it out. “We might want to visit it today. Refresh our memories of everything there, so that when we meet these Ravennans…”

“Oh, Mom! What might they tell
us
? What has happened to the world as we once knew it since we left? I feel like I’ve been in a desert for years without a word about the outside world.” I thought longingly of Instagram. And Pinterest. And even Facebook…

“I know,” she whispered. “But first, let’s pay that tomb a visit while Luca and Marcello are away.”

“They’re going away?”

“Just on patrol. Making sure the way is clear for us tomorrow and visiting key people in the villages to make their excuses for missing the harvest feast.” She gave my arm a squeeze and then went off to her quarters to pack her things. I was already in a royal blue riding gown, and drawing appreciative glances and smiling nods as I passed.

Usually, Luca had his methods of keeping the knights at a respectful distance. Up to now, there’d seldom been a time when I didn’t feel his presence as a form of protection, whether he was with me or not. But something had shifted. I could feel it. Like a rumbling from deep beneath the earth’s crust, dim, strange and unsettling, the change. It stressed me out, and yet I forced myself to lift my chin and keep moving. I had put myself in this position by denying him. I had to stand on my own two feet and hope that somehow, some way, in the right time, Luca and I could find our way forward together.