Heart of Glass

27





“Chaos,” Father grumbles. His eyes dart over to see if I’m listening—clearly he has something on his mind. “Nothing but chaos.”

We’re dining, just the two of us, as Lysander and Emilia are visiting friends. The food turns to mush in my mouth, and I struggle to swallow. I cannot stop thinking about how badly I performed today. But I must humor my father.

“What do you mean?”

He pours himself a glass of wine and drinks it down greedily, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. Then he shrugs. “People are talking.”

“People are always talking in Venice,” I say.

He watches my face carefully. “Yes, but this is different. There are men who …” He allows his words to hang in the air.

“Men who what?” My nerves are suddenly alert. “Is this about the Grand Council? What have they been saying?”

Father twists a napkin round and round between his knuckles. He hangs his head to one side, as though unsure about what to share with a simple woman.

“There’s a faction,” he says eventually. “I think I see their side of things.”

“What side of things?” Venice doesn’t need more intrigue, not at a time like this.

“They think that the Doge is handling the city’s affairs badly, that he is too compromised by everything that is happening in his family—one son dead and another a murderer.”

I flinch at his words. “How can you talk about Roberto like that—your future son-in-law?” I ask.

“Do you blame me?” he replies. “All of Venice says the same thing.”

“What else do they say?” Father pushes his chair away from the table, as though preparing to leave. “Tell me!” I say, my voice dark with warning. “You’ve started, so you may as well finish.”

Father throws his napkin down on the table. “The Doge’s position is becoming untenable,” he says, staring me brazenly in the face. “There are plans.…”

“What plans?” He shakes his head, but I repeat myself, my voice louder. “What plans?”

He glances uneasily at the doors, beyond which servants will be waiting—and overhearing. “All right, all right. Be quiet, and I’ll tell you. Massimo, the Admiral of the Fleet—he thinks he could take command.”

“Depose the Doge?” I ask.

Father leans back in his chair. “You sound surprised, Laura. Don’t you think it would be best if Venice was rid of such a family of monsters?” He waits for me to protest, but I manage to control myself. I won’t leap to Roberto’s defense in front of Father. Strong emotions make weak tacticians. I’m learning that. If I’m to protect Roberto, I need to compose myself. Stiffly, I get to my feet and begin to walk out of the dining room.

“Don’t worry, daughter,” my father calls after me. “It will all be for the best. You’ll see. Then we can start piecing our lives back together again.”

I leave the room and pause by the veranda doors. I glimpse the jasmine in the courtyard beyond, its small white flowers glowing in the moonlight. Their scent carries to me on the air and draws me out. I go to sit on the bench beneath the olive tree and lean against the gnarled wood, my head tipped back, my eyes half closed as I watch a bat dart through the shadows.

How did it come to this? How can the city I love have become such a prison? Not just for Roberto, but for myself also.

I hear the scuff of leather on stone, and when I glance over, Emilia is standing in the doorway, her dress shining in the candlelight. A shawl droops from one hand, its silken tassels whispering across the flagstones as she comes to sit beside me.

“Lysander’s gone to bed,” she says, reaching to tuck a lock of hair behind my ear. “You look tired, too. What are you doing out here?”

I shrug. Any explanation suddenly feels exhausting. More lies on top of too many others.

Emilia wraps her arms around her waist, hugging herself. She follows my glance up to the fat orb of the moon.

“It shines on us, wherever we are,” she says with a smile. She looks back at me. “Lysander and I are thinking of going home soon. Perhaps you … perhaps you’d come with us?”

I’m suddenly wide awake. “Leave Venice?” I ask.

Emilia grins. “That’s not such a very extraordinary idea, is it? You’re a young woman who has had a heavy weight on her shoulders these past days. A trip away could work wonders for you. Or perhaps something more permanent.” Her hand grasps mine and her skin is warm.

“Without Roberto? How could I?” I ask, too sharply. I immediately regret my tone and squeeze her hand. “You know I couldn’t leave him.”

“He could join you!” she says. “When all this is over, the two of you will be free to travel wherever you please. Away from all this intrigue and gossip!”

Emilia has a point. Listening to Father this evening, I felt heavy with fatigue. How much longer do I have to defend my fiancé against the rumor mills of this city?

I get to my feet, and Emilia rises beside me. “Thank you,” I say, “but …”

“Just think about it,” says Emilia.

I promise that I will and we walk back indoors.

Bidding her good night, I take the stairs to my room.

I kneel beside the window. I haven’t prayed properly since my days in the convent, and I wonder if anyone will be listening now.

But I ask anyway. I pray that Roberto will walk away a free man. That we will then be free together. That we can leave this place and all its worries.

I stand and lean out of the window, looking in the direction of the Doge’s palace.

The Segreta can keep their secrets, if only I can get my beloved back.