Waterfall (39 page)

Blessedly, I slept the whole day and through the night, waking only a couple of times when I dared to move. In those instances, my eyes shot open, and I gasped for breath.

Lia was still mad at me, come morning. “You did it so you wouldn’t have to face them at the feast. Any of them,” Lia said. Her tone was half-jealous, half-accusatory.

I didn’t turn over to look at her. I couldn’t if I’d wanted to. My flesh was on fire. There was no use arguing. She was mad. Hurt, over something. “What happened?”

I could hear her rustle out from under her covers. “It was awful. Figuring out what to say…what not to say, when everyone’s looking at you.” She groaned. “We need to get out of here, Gabs. We risk being found out with every hour we’re here.”

“Did you stick to the rules?” I asked. I closed my eyes, steeling myself for what was to come. I had to move. To pee, if nothing else.

“As best I could,” she said. But she didn’t sound too sure. We’d agreed to say little about our parents, so we wouldn’t have to spin larger lies than necessary. To say little of home at all.

“There was one dude who’d been to Normandy.” She paused to sneeze. “He kept asking me about families I might know. Of course, I didn’t”

“How’d you get out of that?”

“I started talking about the night Castello Paratore fell, and the men took over from there.”

I smiled. Smart of her.

“They’re putting on all sorts of games today, in the courtyard. Jousting. Sword fights. The whole knight-gig, you know? Oh, and get this, an archery exhibition too, for which yours truly is to be the star attraction.”

“That’s great,” I said.

Her brow furrowed. “When are we going?” she said.

“One more day, Lia. I think tomorrow, I might be able to move.”

“Tomorrow the feast is over. And Marcello and Fortino are totally bringing you to watch the games today, even if you have to be carried in on your bed.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

I groaned. She was right, of course. On some level, I had hoped that pulling the stitches, and the subsequent recovery, would keep me out of the mix. “Why can’t they just use this excuse? Leave me here?” I shook my head, feeling the straw beneath my cheek crackle.

Did Marcello not see? The less we were together, the better.

“He’s not going to let you out of here without him,” Lia said.

I closed my eyes, thinking of the pain of saying good-bye to him, as well as the pain of lying to him any longer. There was just no good way out. No simple way out.

I shoved myself upward then, barely stifling my scream. It was animal-like, I admitted to myself. And Lia was immediately beside me.

“That bad?”

“That bad.”

She carefully pulled up the edge of the old white shirt I had slept in, and peered at my side. I couldn’t bear to look. She shuddered and quickly let the light silk fabric fall. “Better than yesterday, but not good. You are a walking infection waitin’ to happen. We gotta go home, Gabs. Fast.”

“Maybe tomorrow,” I said.

“If these people discover holes in our story, we might go from being the belles of the ball to the bombs. You should see ‘em, Gabs. Most of them look at me like I’m some sort of celebrity. But there are some that look at me suspiciously. Like they want to take me down. Like that Romana chick. She has some serious issues.”

“I can’t ride a horse today, Lia. It already feels like my side is about to rip loose. That’d do it for sure.”

“What if I found a wagon? Something you could lie down in?”

“Not today,” I said, ending the debate. I lifted my hand to my head. I was sweating-just from the effort of sitting. It was going to take everything in me to squat and go to the bathroom, and she wanted me to travel?

To her credit, she didn’t leave me then. Usually, when we got into arguments, she’d run away, go someplace to be alone. But then, I supposed she thought it worse outside our room’s walls than inside them.

Far more dangerous. Far more conflict.

As she thought he might, Marcello appeared after we finished lunch in the privacy of our quarters. He hovered in the doorway, shifting his eyes about the room as if ill at ease. “M’lady, how does the day find you?”

“As well as can be expected,” I said, looking away, embarrassed at the memory of my desperation the day before.

“I have brought the physician,” he said. I looked back, and he stood sideways to allow a small man to enter. “Dr. Macchione, these are the Ladies Betarrini.”

The man nodded, but said nothing, just strode over to me. He peered at me with narrowed eyes as if he couldn’t see properly. “May I examine your wound, m’lady?”

Slowly, I lifted my shirt to expose my side, praying there was no infection. My worst fear was that the man would want to put leeches on me, or maggots in the wound to eat away at dying flesh. They did that sometimes. Really. I’d heard all about it from Cook. Totally disgusting.

He lifted his head and looked at Lia. “You stitched her back together, m’lady?”

“I did,” Lia said.

“Where did you learn such prowess?”

I looked away from her, not wanting her to see the grin in my eyes. Because the nearest answer was elementary school projects with Grammy. She mumbled something about watching a doctor in our own land do the same, and after a moment’s hesitation, he nodded. He stood again, this time moving to the head of the bed to examine my eyes, tongue, and then the beds of my fingernails. Looking for what? Signs of fever, infection, dehydration? Oh, or that body humours thing? I was surprised when he didn’t ask for a urine sample. Apparently, they figured out a lot by the odor, appearanceeven taste-of a person’s urine.

“You are faring far better than I expected,” he said at last. “I will leave you a bottle of tonic, which should ease the pain a bit.” He bent and pulled a clay bottle from his bag. “Take a mouthful now.”

“What is it?”

The little doctor frowned and looked back at Marcello.

“Gabriella, this man is one of the finest physicians in all of Siena,” he said, looking as if I was embarrassing him. “He has long tended Romana’s own family.”

Oh, great. I see what you’re saying. If the dude is good enough for ROMANA, then he’s certainly more than okay for me, right?

I barely kept myself from rolling my eyes as I reached for the bottle. I took a swig and nearly gagged at the foul, grasslike taste in my mouth, forcing myself to swallow. It burned all the way down my throat. The little doctor went back to his bag and rifled through twenty ton of parchment packets, pulling one out. He carefully unfolded the parchment and took a pinch of the powder. “This may hurt a bit, but it will guard against infection.”

“What is that?”

His small eyes narrowed in my direction, as if to say, Who are you to keep questioning me? No doubt Marcello had been true to his word and summoned only the best from Siena. But we were in the middle of 1332. I had a right to know what the man was putting on me, even if I had just swallowed some unknown tonic.

“Lady Gabriella has some prowess in the healing arts,” Marcello interceded.

The doctor sniffed. “It is my own blend of powders, a secret recipe,” he said.

I studied him. “All right,” I said, bracing myself for the pain.

But when he sprinkled it on my wound, I didn’t feel anything. My eyes widened. For the first time since I got injured, I didn’t feel anything at all. I was numb from the chest down. It was a little disconcerting. But mostly, it was a relief. I took a deep breath, my first in days.

Gradually, I figured out that it hadn’t been what he’d sprinkled on top of me; it had been the tonic.

“Please, Dr. Macchione. I am most curious. What was in that tonic?”

“I cannot tell,” he said with a wink. “One doesn’t become the finest physician in Siena if one shares all his secrets, right?” He placed his envelope back in his bag and then looked at me. “It is easing your pain?”

“You could say that.”

He smiled an eensy smile, just a half second of a tiny upturning of his thin lips. “I shall be within reach, m’lady. You only need summon me. I shall return this evening to administer more medicine to your wound.”

“Thank you,” I said, watching him scurry past Marcello and out the door.

Marcello looked back at me with a grin. “Fortino and I would be in your debt if you would allow us to bring you out to the games. The people-” He paused to look over his shoulder, as if he could see through the stones-“they shall not rest until they lay eyes upon you. There is much concern over the wounded she-wolf”

“Oh, m’lord, I do not know if I can bear it,” I said. Though seeing him here made me want to watch him out in the games. To see him wield a sword one more time. Do his man thing. So I could remember, when I got home. Maybe I could even get Lia to sketch him.

He took a step into the room, lifting a hand as if beseeching me. “We’ll carry you in. You’ll watch, like Cleopatra, lounging upon her settee.”

I lifted a brow. “That would be quite dramatic.”

“Evangelia has agreed to give a demonstration of her archery skills,” he said, looking to my sister.

“I hardly had a choice,” she said, raising her hands.

“Nay,” Marcello said with a smile. “Indeed, I believe it will be the most interesting part of the games. Everyone is dying to best her.”

I smiled then, too. “I must attend, then. But only if I may wager a small fortune before the event takes place.”

His smile grew wider-because I agreed to go? Or because of my dare? “You shall have a difficult time finding takers. Most want to place their hopes on Evangelias shoulders.”

“Except one,” she said, meeting his eyes.

“Pay Lord Foraboschi no mind,” he said. But I think we both noticed his smile disappear. “He has long been the champion when it comes to archery. He needs to learn how to gracefully abdicate his position when faced with a more skilled challenger.”

I flicked my eyes in Lids direction. She was nervous.

Lord Foraboschi. The creepy, tall guy who hung out with Romana and her entourage. The guy who shot our prisoners while they were tied up. I shuddered involuntarily. But Marcello had looked away, dismissing my concern. “Your days of fear are over. There are only friends among us. Loyal Sienese.”

I glanced at Lia again. She clearly didn’t agree with him.

“You will attend?” Marcello asked, his eyes on me. It was more of a command than a question. And I felt powerless to say anything but yes.

Light filled his eyes, and he dared to finally cross the room to my side. “I’ll send servants in an hour for you. There will be shade, and if you grow weary, simply lift this,” he said, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, “and I’ll have you returned to your room immediately.” Staring down at me, he rubbed the side of my cheek with the back of his hand.

I nodded, breaking our intense gaze, and then closed my eyes as if falling asleep again.

He started, as if shocked out of his reverie, and turned to go. “The gown?” he whispered to Lia.

“I shall attempt to get it on her,” she said. “But I make no promises, m’lord.”

He left then, without another word, and I opened my eyes to look at Lia. She was staring at me, chin in hand, shaking her head. She came over to my bed and sat on the edge. “It can’t happen,” she whispered, looking over my shoulder to the doorway and back. “You realize that, right?”

“Yes,” I said, more forlornly than I intended. But I was feeling free, unbound. Maybe it was the medicine. “You’ll need to help me remember. Help me memorize Marcello, the kind of man he is. Because I want to find someone like him in our time.”

Tears rolled down my cheeks, and I choked, unable to say another word. Maybe the medicine was whacking me out. It was like I had no control over my emotions.

She took my hand and squeezed it. “I’ll help you, Gabi. It’ll be okay. You’re only seventeen. You have your whole life ahead of you.” She reached out to stroke my face and tuck a tendril of hair behind my ear. “You’ll see. It’ll be okay.” She rose and pulled my gown from the trunk, shaking it out.

But all I could think of was her hand on my face and how it reminded me of Marcello’s touch.

And how I longed for him to touch me again.