Passion Blue (28 page)

“That wasn’t our agreement.” The tremor in Ormanno’s voice belied his defiant words. “You’ve no right to change the terms.”

“And yet I am changing them. You are free to leave
this moment if you don’t like it.”

“Haven’t I served you well over the years?” Ormanno’s body was rigid, his fists clenched. “I don’t deserve this.”

“You have been useful, as I knew you would be when I took you in. But you are a thief, Ormanno. You were a thief when I found you, and you are a thief today. You know well what you deserve.”

“Sir, this isn’t right.” Didoni had stepped forward to stand at Ormanno’s side. “You hired him to do a job and he did it, and now he’s owed his money. Fair’s fair. I’m sure you wouldn’t want word getting out about this night.”

The air around Matteo seemed to change. He did not appear to move, but suddenly he was standing only inches from Didoni.

“Do you think to extort me, you verminous cur?” His voice was soft. “I am chairman of the
Fraglia
. I am a wealthy and respected citizen of Padua, and I eat supper once a month with the chief of the city watch. I need only speak, and you will vanish, and all your
words
with you. Do we understand each other?”

Didoni snarled and reached for his knife. But Matteo was quicker. He caught Didoni’s arm and twisted it. Didoni cried out. The knife clattered to the floor. Matteo kicked it into the shadows.

“Remove this creature from my house,” he told Ormanno. “As for you, you may stay or go, I care not which.”

They glared at each other. In Ormanno’s face Giulia saw rage and defeat, and in Matteo’s, contempt and power. And she understood that Ormanno was a liar and a cheat, but Matteo…Matteo was
monstrous.

“What will you do with her?” Ormanno looked past his master to where Giulia stood by the table. She turned her face away before he could catch her eyes.

“She will be perfectly safe and comfortable. Now get out.”

They obeyed. Matteo watched them go. Then he returned to the table and gripped Giulia by the arm.

“Come, girl. I know just the place for you.”

Matteo brought Giulia up a narrow flight of stairs and pushed her into the room at the top. She caught the door as he began to pull it closed.

“How could you betray her so? Your own daughter?”

She had no real thought that he would answer, but to her surprise he paused, looking at her over the flame of the candle he had brought from downstairs.

“You think it betrayal? What of the training I gave her, female though she was? The place I secured for her? The fame those things bought her? And the one thing I asked in return, she would not give.”

“But you have everything now. Her book. All her
recipes.”

“I’ll see she gets her book back, once I have what I want. I’ve no interest in her book, apart from Passion blue.”

He began to close the door again.

“How long will you keep me here?”

This time he did not reply. She heard the sound of the lock, his footsteps on the stairs. Then silence.

There was no light at all. From the hot, still air and the smells, she guessed she was in the attic, but in the muffling dark, with no idea of what surrounded her, she felt as if she had been severed from the world. She sank down on the floor, the heavy skirts of the red dress pooling around her. She was trembling. Her heart thumped hard and fast inside her chest. She could feel every bruise and hurt the night had given her.

She curled her fingers around the talisman, concealed beneath the fabric of her chemise. “Anasurymboriel,” she whispered. “If you ever helped me, please help me now.”

The words felt like ash in her mouth. Why should Anasurymboriel help her? Its task was done. It was not the spirit’s fault she’d been too blind to see its true gift to her. Nothing that had happened between herself and Ormanno, from the first time she visited him in the refectory to this moment, had anything to do with the talisman at all. She knew it now for certain.

She clasped her hands beneath her chin. She hadn’t prayed since she put the talisman on, but now, suddenly, she craved the comfort of prayer, craved it more than she feared the judgment of a God Whose
will she had attempted to defy.

“God,” she whispered, “please forgive me for turning from You for so long. Forgive me for trying to escape Your will. Forgive me for the mistakes I’ve made. I never meant to betray my Maestra. I never meant for any of this to happen. But it did happen, and I know it is my fault. Please punish me as I deserve, but if You can, please give me some way to make things right.”

Her prayer brought no comfort, only a deeper awareness of her own hypocrisy—willing to sin as long as she believed she was getting what she wanted, repenting only after things went wrong.

She leaned her head against the door. It would have been a relief to cry. But no tears would come.

She woke to light, curled in an awkward huddle on the floor.

She sat up, her body aching, and pushed back her disheveled hair, feeling the soreness of her scalp where Didoni had yanked her braid. As she’d thought, she was in the attic; she could see barrels, sacks, furniture, and other items covered by dustcloths and tarpaulins. The light came through small grated windows set at floor level. She crawled over to one and peered out. It looked down into the courtyard; she could see the men at their carpentry and the boys at the washtub.

She thought of Santa Marta, where they would already have discovered her absence and the theft of the book. She remembered what Ormanno had said last night—that they would find her novice gown in
the orchard and assume she was the thief. Soon, or possibly right now, Humilità would believe that Giulia had betrayed her.

Which I did. Though not in the way she will believe
.

She couldn’t bear to think of that, so she got to her feet and began to explore. All she accomplished was to fill the air with dust and worsen her thirst. There were no exits other than the door she had come in by. The door itself was thick and solid in its frame; when she tried to shake it, it didn’t budge. Some of the window grates were loose, but even if they had not been impossibly high, they were too small for her to wriggle through.

No escape, then. She’d have to hope there would be a chance later on, when Matteo took her out of the attic.
If
he took her out.

What will he do with me
? She was here because he thought she knew something—but she didn’t know anything. What if he didn’t believe her? How long would he keep her? And if he did believe her…or if he didn’t believe her and managed to unlock the cipher…either way, she knew too much. Could he afford to let her go—even with Ormanno, even if she swore to leave Padua forever?

Her heart was pounding again. She felt sick. She sat down by one of the windows and closed her eyes and breathed deeply, trying to calm herself.

A little while later, she heard the rattle of the lock. The door opened partway. Someone set down a tray and pushed it into the room with their foot. She caught a glimpse of red underskirt.

“Lorenza.” It came out as a croak. “Please help me.”

There was no response. The door closed again. The lock turned.

She crawled to the tray. There was a cup of watered wine, a hunk of bread, some cheese, and a pear. Ravenous, she ate and drank everything. Then she went back to the window overlooking the courtyard. Ormanno must be down there in the workshop, as if nothing had happened. She felt a surge of loathing—for him, but also for herself. He was false, false to his fingertips. Why had she never seen through his pretense?

Because I wanted so much for him to be what I thought he was. Because I saw sorcery where it didn’t exist. Because I didn’t know my heart’s desire, and didn’t see the magic where it really was
.

She wished she had something to wear other than the red dress he had given her. She hated its feel against her skin.

Lorenza returned as the light began to fade. Giulia started speaking as soon as the door began to open.

“Lorenza, please let me out. Please, you could come back tonight when everyone’s asleep. No one would know.”

The tray slid inside. The door started to close.

“Lorenza, please! For my Maestra—for Violetta’s sake! Don’t let him keep me here!”

The door stilled. Giulia held her breath.

“I’m sorry, child,” Lorenza whispered.

The door closed quietly. Giulia heard the lock.

Giulia ate and drank—not because she was hungry, but because she knew she needed to keep up her strength. She used the pottery bowl she’d designated
as a chamber pot. Then she curled up on an improvised bed of dustcloths and waited as night descended and darkness filled the attic. She tried to tell herself that it was a good sign that Lorenza had answered her. She tried very hard to believe that over the days to come (how many days? How many pitch black nights?) she would be able to persuade the old woman to set her free.

Since there was nothing else to do, she closed her eyes and slept.

A noise jolted her awake. It was still night. She heard a shuffling, then a scraping.

The lock! Lorenza came back!

Giulia sat up, her heart racing. The door opened, admitting a soft wash of candlelight. But the person who entered was not Lorenza.

“Giulia!” Ormanno strode over to her and knelt, setting down the candle and the keys he carried. He had on the same clothing he had worn the other night. A bundle was bound to his back. “Are you well? Did he do anything to you?”

“Why are you here? How did you get in?”

“Lorenza lent me these.” He gestured to the keys. “She isn’t any happier about you being here than I am.”

So her plea had worked, after a fashion.

“Come, we must go. I want to be out of Padua before dawn.”

“Did Matteo change his mind about paying you? Or—” Giulia felt cold. “Did he break the cipher?”

“No. And he hasn’t paid me. He’ll never pay me, the cipher is just an excuse. Didoni has sworn to slit
my throat if he doesn’t get his share, so I’m cutting my losses and leaving, and I’m taking you with me.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Giulia, I know you’re angry—”

“Angry?
Angry
? After all the lies you told me? After you used me? After you betrayed my trust? How did it work, Ormanno? Was it you who made the plan, or was it your master?”

His eyes shifted away from hers. “It was his idea. He had me spying on your Maestra while I was working on her fresco. I told him about meeting you, and he remembered that when he learned she was bringing you with her. He said he had a job for me, told me what he wanted me to do. He offered me…a lot of money. You know I need money.”

“And you thought I’d be easy to seduce,” Giulia said bitterly.

“You can’t exactly blame me. You practically threw yourself at me, that day on the scaffold.”

Giulia felt her cheeks grow hot, for it was true. “How many
jobs
have you done for him?”

“A few.” He shrugged. “He’s found it useful to have a thief in his employ.”

“That’s why he took you in, isn’t it? Not for kindness or mercy. Because you were a thief.”

“I don’t
want
to be a thief, Giulia. I haven’t wanted it since I was twelve or thirteen and realized I truly had a talent.”

“Then why have you never stopped?”

“How could I stop? You’ve seen how he is. He has…evidence of the things I’ve done. He could have me
locked away. He could make me disappear. This job, the job with you—it was going to be the last. It was going to cancel my debt to him, so long as I left Padua and never came back. You were just a girl, a pretty girl. What did I care if I broke your heart?” He reached out and captured her hands. She tried to pull away, but he gripped her tight. “But I didn’t know you then. Now I do, and I want you to come with me. What does it matter if the way we started was false? We know everything about each other now. I know you love me. Don’t pretend you don’t.”

He leaned toward her as he spoke, looking into her eyes, for all the world as if he really meant what he was saying. And perhaps he did. Perhaps he really had come to care for her. But it no longer made a difference.

“I
did
love you,” she said. “I wanted the life I thought we could have together.” How strange it was to be speaking to him like this. In spite of everything, the familiarity of him, the feel of him, still called to her body. But he was already gone from her heart. “I know now you’d never have given it to me. You’d never have married me. You’d never have let me paint.”

“
Paint
? Is that what this is about—you painting in my workshop? I told you I’d think about it. And I would have married you. Of course I would have.”

“
Would have
, Ormanno? Why not
will
?”

“Giulia—”

“It isn’t just me, anyway. I’m not the only one you’ve betrayed. My Maestra has been hurt as well.”

“But that’s their business, my master’s and hers. Their old rivalry and struggle that we got caught between.
We’re done with it now. It doesn’t concern us.”

“That’s not true.” Giulia succeeded at last in pulling her hands free. “I want you to let me out of this attic. But I won’t leave Padua with you.”

“Giulia.” He sounded exasperated now. “Be reasonable. You haven’t many choices.”

“This isn’t something I’ve just decided, Ormanno. I was never going with you. That’s the only reason I came to the orchard last night—to tell you.”

“What, that you were going to stay at Santa Marta? After all you said about never becoming a nun? I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true.”

He shook his head. “But why?”

“Because,” she said, putting all her force, all her passion behind the words,
“I could paint.”

He stared at her, his icy eyes glinting in the candlelight. She could not tell what was happening behind the mask of his face. But then, she never had been able to.

He sighed at last and sat back. In the sound, in the way his body changed, she saw that he had accepted her refusal. A tender place inside her felt the sting of that, of how easily he had let her go. But it also told her that she had made the right decision.