Page 172 of Fiorenzo

Enzo had left for the duel without him.

His first instinct was to bolt. But sprinting on foot would hardly get him to the site of the duel in time. Certainly not if Enzo had a half-hour’s head start. He forced his heels to stick in place and plastered a smile over his rising panic. “If it wouldn’t be too great an imposition, might I also borrow the services of a gondola?”

Alvise blinked at him.

“Or a sandolo,” Fiore hastened to add. “Any watercraft, really.”

“You may have either at your pleasure, signore,” Alvise replied.

“And quickly?” Fiore asked before his better sense caught up with his tongue.

Alvise raised his brows but nodded nonetheless.

“A sandolo, then,” Fiore decided. It was the faster and more maneuverable of the two. “Thank you, Alvise.”

Alvise bowed and withdrew.

Fiore diverted his own course just long enough to snatch a true rapier from the armory, then dashed downstairs to the water entrance. If the staff awaiting him there considered it at all out of the ordinary to see him so armed, they said nothing of it aloud—though Fiore thought he caught a speaking glance between Alvise and the woman readying the sandolo. Another speaking glance came when he asked her to set a course for Isola dell’Anfiteatro. But no argument arose, and none emerged from the house to prevent his sailing out into the canal.

~

Enzo screamed himself hoarse in Lucrezia’s wake. For some time—he knew not how long, with neither clocks nor shadows to tell him, though it felt like days—only his own echoes answered him.

Then, as he drew breath for another attempt, he heard what sounded very much like but what he dared not hope were footsteps.

“Lucrezia?”

The footsteps ceased. The door swung inward. The figure silhouetted in the doorway could not be Lucrezia; they weren’t tall enough and were garbed in a gown besides.

Giovanna stepped into the cell. She wore a beatific smile. Enzo supposed she meant it to seem reassuring. He was not reassured.

“Where is Fiore?” he demanded.

“Wherever you left him, I suspect,” said Giovanna. “Shall we fetch him down? He cannot come in, lest he free you, but you may speak with him through the door. I see no harm in it.”

Enzo stared at her. “I left him in my bed. If he is not there, then he has gone to the duel without me.”

Giovanna furrowed her brow.

“He is my second,” Enzo hastened to explain.

Giovanna’s brows took flight.

“If he awakens without me,” Enzo hurried on, “he will assume I’ve gone to meet Nascimbene. He will go to Isola dell’Anfiteatro. And when he doesn’t find me there, he will duel Nascimbene himself.”

Giovanna pressed her lips into a thin line even as her brow knit in concern.

“He will die.” Enzo’s voice broke on the last word. He pressed on. “He is a brave man, but his skill with a blade is not up to the task. Giovanna,please—”

Giovanna turned and strode to the door she’d left ajar. She exchanged a few words through the gap with someone, her voice too low for Enzo to discern their meaning. Bootheels clicked off down the hall and faded into nothing. Giovanna returned.

“Where—?” Enzo began.

“Carlotta will fetch your Fiore,” said Giovanna.

Enzo wished he could share in her faith.

~