Fiona Paul - Belladonna

“Are you ready?” Luca’s arms were still around her, one on the small of her back, one on her waist. Would she sink when the water got deep? She hadn’t gone swimming in years, but Luca couldn’t hold her up and swim the two of them across the water. Cass would have to make it on her own.

She nodded dumbly, and then realized it was probably too dark for Luca to see her. She swallowed hard. “Ready,” she whispered.

Luca grabbed her hand. Strange swirling things beneath the water grabbed at Cass’s ankles as she inched forward with Luca until the edge of the dock was right above their heads. She tightened her grip on his hand and clutched at the wooden mooring post with her other.

She struggled to peel her fingers from the rough, rotted wood. She wasn’t afraid. It was just that relinquishing her hold on the post felt like letting go of everything.

Siena.

Cass craned her neck to the east, back toward the Palazzo Ducale. What was happening? Was Siena still lying in a heap on the ornate marble floor? What if she hadn’t died? What if Cass and Luca had abandoned her to the Doge’s dungeons, to the foul, vermin-infested wells? No. It wasn’t possible. The sword had passed straight through her. Cass had seen the blade emerge from Siena’s chest. She had seen her eyes roll up to heaven, as if she were looking for God to take her.

“Come on, Cass.” Luca guided her toward the open water.

“I can’t,” she whispered.

Luca wrapped his fingers around hers and tugged. The hold broke, and her hand slipped free of the wood.

The current pulled her and Luca quickly apart. Cass reached out for him, but he wasn’t there. Her skirt had wrapped itself around her legs. She couldn’t kick. She couldn’t do anything. Her body started to sink. She tried to remember how to swim. She flailed out with her arms, and succeeded in moving forward, barely, as her dress spiraled her down.

Fighting to keep her head above the surface, she looked for Luca. All she saw was the reflection of moonlight on water and the hazy shorelines that mocked her—so close, so impossibly far.

Cass submerged briefly, then fought to the surface, blinking away murky fluid. And Luca was there, suddenly, a dark form in the water. Beyond him, to the southeast, was San Giorgio Maggiore.

She reached down and freed her legs from her skirt with a vicious rip. Immediately, she felt lighter. She kicked her feet, trying to propel herself through the water.

Luca fought the current to stay by her side. So strong despite his ordeal. He treaded water next to her, his long hair and beard making him look like a stranger in the night. “Are you all right?”

Cass didn’t speak. She couldn’t. The simple fabric of the servant’s outfit was growing heavier with each stroke. She needed to focus, to make it to land.

“I’m all right,” she gasped. “Keep going.”

Luca struggled to stay with her, but the water pulled him away again. Cass tried to follow him, concentrating on the blurry form she thought was San Giorgio Maggiore’s dome, but the stars were swirling in the sky, making her dizzy and disoriented. She felt as if she were going backward toward the Palazzo Ducale instead of forward to freedom.

The current tugged her back and forth. A rogue wave blew up from nowhere, slapping her in the face, pushing her under and causing her to swallow a mouthful of water.

Gagging, she expelled the foul liquid. Her lungs burned. Her throat swelled. She coughed violently for several seconds. Her vision went momentarily dark. Was she even heading in the right direction anymore? She didn’t know.

It took her a minute and several more strokes of treading water to find the dome of San Giorgio Maggiore again. She reached out and propelled her body forward again, kicking with all her might. The water was cool compared with the warm night air, and her teeth chattered loudly. Her legs sank lower. Each kick was harder than the one before. She was getting tired. So tired. So heavy. Her eyelids fluttered shut. She wasn’t going to make it.

“Luca,” she croaked, as if her mouth were full of sand.

No answer.

Her chin dipped below the water.

And then her foot hit solid ground.

She gasped with relief, collapsing to her knees as the shore materialized beneath her. Her torn skirt and bodice clung to her clammy skin as she crawled onto the land. Stumbling to her feet, she turned to find Luca beside her.

“I knew you’d make it.” He wrapped his arms around her, pushing her wet hair back from her face to kiss her on the cheek. “ Grazie a Dio , you’re all right.”

In front of them stood a long stone building, the monastery connected to San Giorgio Maggiore. Tiny square windows ran the length of the wall. All of them were dark.

“Come on,” she said. Luca’s touch seemed to strengthen her. She caught her breath and turned toward the center of the island, toward the trees. She felt as if she were caught in a dream, as if her body were functioning independent of her brain.

With her legs trembling beneath her, Cass crossed the sandy ground in front of the monastery, holding tight to Luca’s hand, until they reached the little patch of woods. Even in the dark, she found her way back to the tree where she had hung the supplies. It was exactly twenty paces from the shoreline, with thick waxy leaves that obscured the leather sack dangling from a low branch.

Wordlessly, she untied the bag and handed Luca the clothing Siena had taken from Bortolo’s quarters. The elderly butler was the only member of the household even close to Luca’s height. Cass pulled her own clothes from the pack. She was moving numbly, mechanically. She was too tired to speak. Too tired to think. Tears hovered on her eyelashes. There was a third set of clothing in the bag. Siena’s clothing.

Luca stepped away and turned around to give Cass privacy. She wrestled out of her waterlogged dress and slipped the fresh chemise over her head. She tugged the skirt over her hips. The dry fabric felt good against her skin. She slipped her arms through the sleeves of her bodice and stopped. The ties were in the back. She had no way to lace it without Siena’s help.

A sob escaped from her lips. Luca was at her side in an instant. “Cass. What is it?” he asked. “Are you hurt?”

“I need Siena,” Cass whispered, feeling incredibly stupid. “I—I can’t lace this bodice. I—”

“I’ll help you,” Luca said. With slow, fumbling fingers, Luca threaded the first lace through the highest hole. He dropped it and grabbed the lace on the other side.

Cass started to tell him it was faster if he threaded one lace through all of the holes first, and then did the same on the other side. But she stopped. There was something comforting about Luca’s painstakingly slow progress, about the methodical but innocent way his hands grazed her back repeatedly.

“Thank you,” Cass said, when he had made it all the way to the bottom and knotted the silk pieces in a clumsy bow. She blotted each cheek on the back of her hand.

She tried to swallow back all of the questions that rose inside of her. What would happen to her now? What would happen to them? How would they live? Where would they go?

“Come on.” Luca led her back to the tree. The ground beneath her bare feet—even Siena hadn’t thought to bring an extra pair of shoes—was littered with leaves and brambles. Luca lowered himself to the ground. He brushed away the vegetation, clearing a spot big enough for the both of them. He leaned back against the tree trunk. Cass realized he was wearing only breeches and a chemise, that the plain black doublet Siena had packed was hanging over his forearm. He handed the doublet to her. “You can use it as a blanket,” he said. “Or a pillow.”