The Roman (The Florentine 3)

The garden was neatly arranged with flowers, hedges, and orange trees. Large terracotta pots held various plants, while roses bloomed in between the hedges.

The fountain was located at the end of a terraced walkway that lay between two large flower beds like the center aisle of a church. The air was perfumed with citrus and roses.

Two sketches lay abandoned near Raven’s feet. She’d taken charcoal to paper and sketched William’s face, dearer to her than her own. When she’d finished and the Muse had still hovered over her, she’d drawn Borek.

She did not draw her sister.

If she closed her eyes, she could conjure up happy days, when her father was alive and they were living in Portsmouth. She remembered his laughter, his calloused hand holding hers, the deep timbre of his voice.

“Daddy,” she whispered, the tears threatening.

How disappointed he would be with her. How she’d failed him in looking after Cara.

The merest sigh of a breeze touched her face, drawing a long strand of dark hair across her eyes. A single word echoed in her heart, spoken in her father’s deep voice, No.

You can’t do everything. You can’t be perfect. You just have to be yourself, and be the best self you can be.

Such was the simple wisdom of her father, or what she could remember of it.

The breeze sighed again, and Raven was seized with the impression her father would have understood.

Father Kavanaugh, for all his blind faith, would not hurt Cara. He’d read scripture to comfort her in her grief. He’d pray for her and send her home with Dan’s body. If he were willing to risk his life and the ire of the Roman in order to save Raven herself, he would ensure the Curia didn’t mistreat Cara.

Raven believed this. But a week had passed with no news from Father Kavanaugh or Cara. Raven had called, texted, and sent an email. There had been no response.

Raven blinked up at the sun, realizing she should have worn sunglasses or a hat. She felt as if she’d been living in a cave, as if she hadn’t seen the sun in months, rather than days. She wanted the warmth to bake into her pale skin and into her heart. But it was beginning to get too hot.

William had promised he would find out what was happening with Cara, but in the days that followed their return to Florence, he’d had very little to report. Last night he’d learned the Curia had manufactured a story about Dan and Cara being the victims of a mugging. They’d both suffered head injuries, which was why, they’d said, Cara had no memory of the assault.

Raven hoped that in time Cara would find healing, although she realized Dan’s loss would form a scar that would never disappear.

“Here is a lark, blessing my garden.”

She turned and found William a short distance away, standing under a trellis covered in vines, shaded from the sun.

She smiled. “I wasn’t expecting you until after sunset.”

“The city is quiet, and my brethren are resting.” He gazed at her solemnly. “I have news of your sister.”

Raven felt her heart skip a beat. “Where is she?”

“On her way to America. Your priest was ordered to accompany her and the corpse. He’s also spreading the fairy tale about what happened.”

“Is she all right?”

William pressed his lips together. “She is grieving. But I was told by one of our sources that she is healthy.”

“Will she talk to me?”

“I believe so, but you should give her a few more days. Wait until she’s settled in America and we’re able to determine the Curia’s influence on her.”

Raven turned her head. “I don’t want to wait.”

“I understand, but so long as your priest is with her, any information you give to her will be given to him.”

Raven changed the subject. “When are we leaving for the Accademia?”

“I’m afraid our plans must be postponed. I must meet with the Consilium tonight.”

Raven used her cane to dig in the gravel, trying to hide her disappointment.

“I am sorry.” He sounded contrite.

“It’s all right. As long as you come back.”

“Why so downcast?”

She made an exasperated noise. “I can’t speak to my sister. I can’t leave the villa. What can I do?”

William moved to the very edge of the shade. “There’s been too much unrest, too many whispers. By now I’m sure it’s clear you are my greatest weakness.”

Raven regarded him, a centuries-old vampyre with untold powers and the wisdom of ages. “No one who looked at you would ever think you weak.”

“No one who looked at me when you were absent, perhaps. But we are attached, you and I. It must be plain to those around us, despite how hard I’ve tried to hide it.”

Raven dug in the gravel again.

“I have made an error,” William said at length.

Now Raven looked at him. “What do you mean?”

“You are unhappy.”

“I’m not used to staying in one spot all the time. I like to go out.”

William passed a hand over his mouth. “A lark who is caged is never as beautiful as a lark who is free. I said that to you once. Now I’ve caged you.”

“There must be some way for me to leave the villa and still be safe. You’re the Prince of a secure kingdom. You have the support of the Roman.”

He lowered his voice. “I have many fears as well.”

Raven lifted her hands in exasperation. “Share them. Let’s be afraid together. But don’t shut me out, and please, please don’t keep me in a cage.”

William looked around quickly before venturing into the sun.

His movement was so quick, Raven gasped when she saw him standing beside her.

Tenderly, he touched her cheek. “My greatest fear is that I can’t protect you.”

She grabbed his wrist. “I’m afraid I’ll lose you. Or the Curia will come and take you away.”

“I am fighting so that won’t happen.”

“Then let me fight at your side, William, not inside your villa. When I told you I was afraid of being destroyed by love, you told me my fears were shared. Your fears are shared, too. I’m terrified of losing you or having someone take away my memories of you.” A cry of anguish escaped from her chest. “I love you, knowing it may destroy me. Love me as I am—disabled, mortal, and breakable—for as long as you can.”

“I do,” he whispered. “I will.”

“Then take me with you.”

William’s expression grew conflict

ed.

She frowned. “I don’t mean to Consilium meetings. I don’t ever want to go to one of those again. But I’d like to go to the Opificio. The Pitti Palace. I used to volunteer at the orphanage. Can I do that again?”

William looked at her gravely. “Is it important to you?”

“Very much. I like working with children. I have to do something useful for society and not just sit around being waited on all the time.”

“You can contribute to society by being who you are.”

“That isn’t enough.”

“I disagree. But you also contribute by preserving great works of art.”

Frustrated, she shook her head.

“If you wish to volunteer, I’ll assign someone to go with you,” William offered. “We lost the other security guards.”

Raven remembered Maximilian attacking Marco and Luka. They’d died trying to protect her. “Thank you.”

“Tonight, when I meet with the Consilium, will you stay here?”

“Of course.” She gathered up her art supplies. “I know the sun is making you uncomfortable. Let’s stand in the shade.”

William took her by the elbow and helped her to her feet. He escorted her back to the trellis.

He took the supplies from her hand, along with her cane, and put them on a nearby table. He gathered her hands in his and placed them over his heart.

Raven was distracted momentarily by the strange silence underneath her palms. And then, his heart thumped.

“I—” William frowned. “I have thought many times of the price I would pay for love. But I should have been thinking of the price you’d have to pay.”

“I knew when I lost my father my life would never be sweetness and light,” Raven said. “Mostly, I’m sad for my sister. Having to stay here by myself for hours on end makes it worse because I can’t stop worrying about everything.”

William’s eyebrows drew together. “I should have realized. I am sorry. I should have dealt with Maximilian when I had the chance.”

“No one knows the future. I certainly don’t blame you for what he did to Dan.”

William wrapped himself around her.