Page 105 of Lorenzo

“Forget it,” says Emily. Her eyes move with appreciation over the doublet, the cape, and the codpiece I wear.

“The longer I look at you in that costume, the more I realize it fits you. You are the epitome of the conceited dandy …”

“With that, my lady, I challenge you to a joust!”

I take Emily in my arms and kiss her in what I imagine to be a rough, medieval style.

She laughs and we move through the grounds for the next hour, pretending it’s our own estate.

Then we go back to the booth, change into our real-world clothes, and prepare to go back to the hotel.

But the enticing scent of woodsmoke and roasting meat tantalizes us.

“Let’s top off the afternoon with a Renaissance dinner,” Emily suggests, pointing at the rows of food vendors.

“I’ve only read about the types of food people ate back in those days. I’d like to see what it’s like.”

“Me too” I say, leading her through the booths of folks selling candles, leather pouches, and hand-forged rings all laid out on black velvet.

We purchase our food and see a man in a jester’s hat juggling three torches near the jousting field.

“Let’s watch,” I say, guiding Emily toward him.

We settle into the soft grass and watch the juggler, biting into our legs of mutton with our bare teeth. Emily dabs my face when meat juice drips down my chin. And I do the same for her.

We rise and toss our empty plates in the trash.

Then Em stops to watch a glassblower shape something orange and molten at the end of a long iron rod.

That’s when my phone buzzes.

It’s Dante.

His voice is more serious than I’ve ever heard it.

“Emily’s brother,” he says. “He’s been taken.”

CHAPTER 46

EMILY

“Lorenzo, what’s going on?” asks Emily.

She has no idea what Dante said, but one look at my face must tell her something is terribly wrong.

“It’s Teddy, isn’t it? What happened?”

She looks at me, eyes wild. Face ashen.

“Is he … dead?”

Her voice doesn’t sound human as she asks the question.

She collapses to her knees, sobbing so violently it seems she can barely breathe.

“No, no,” I say, dropping to my knees and pulling her into my arms.

“He’s alive.” I press my lips to her hair. Then I hold her tighter as she continues to cry.