Page 70 of A Dangerous Bargain

The guard accompanies us, and I silently thank Giovannia for having the good sense to dress me in black so the guard doesn’t notice the ungodly amount of sweat I’m wiping off my palms. He knocks on a closed door and goes inside. The scent of frankincense floods the corridor, and then the guard pops outside again and nods for us to go inside next.

I gasp when the door opens.

It’s the Medici private chapel, and every inch of it is exquisite. Gilded carved ceilings, gold dripping from every surface. A fresco of pilgrims spans all four walls, the scale and color of it so overwhelming, I feel like I’ve stepped inside a book of the Bible. The figures are still, unmagicked, but their realness is so breathtaking, it moves me. “Is this a Gozzoli piece?”

I reach up to touch the wall. Only then do I notice the robed and hooded figure sitting before the altar.

They’re sliding the beads of a rosary between their fingers. The clicking rhythm matches the pounding in my temples.

Leonardo sweeps into a low bow. “Here he is, signora. The man I told you about.”

The figure turns, revealing eyes wide with fear. “You know the truth about the demons?”

I suck in a breath and nearly stagger against the fresco.

I’ve only seen her once, on the steps of the cathedral that morning, but I recognize her anyway.

It’s Lorenzo de’ Medici’s new wife.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

The church bells chime the hour. Lorenzo’s wife ducks her head and counts out another bead, another prayer. When she closes her eyes, I see tears clinging to her lashes.

I glance at Leonardo, but he’s not looking at me. He’s watching her, with a patient, gentle expression I’ve only seen him use on me when I’m at my worst. He slowly settles on the pew beside the girl. Clarice, I remember. Clarice Orsini from Rome.

“I know that the angels are demons,” I admit. “But that’s all.”

Clarice nods and squeezes her eyes shut even more tightly. “My husband tried to tell me that magic is what makes his family so powerful, that it’ll make me powerful too, but I know it’s wrong. He’s been betrayed by evil just like his father.”

“Tell Virgil what you told me,” Leonardo urges gently. Only now do I see that he’s covered up his bargain mark with a leather bracelet. I brush my long sleeves, making sure they haven’t risen far enough to reveal mine.

Two tears roll down Clarice’s cheeks. “How do I know I can trust him?”

I sit next to her. “You can’t. Trust is earned, and I don’t have time to earn yours.” Leonardo lets out a dismayed squawk, but Clarice’s eyes flick to mine. “I can tell you magic has hurt me. My brother has forgotten who I am because of it. If you can’t trust me, fine, but you can trust that I agree with you that the magic can’t be trusted.”

Clarice’s fingers pause their rapid counting. She searches my face for a long moment, then nods. “Piero de’ Medici has been corrupted by demons. He moves things without touching them. When he speaks, I feel sick and have no choice but to obey.”

“Do you remember when we were in his office?” Leonardo says. “And Piero demanded that Soderini tell him the truth? I wanted to… confess things to you.”

I remember it too, his warm breath on my palm, how a feeling like a rising storm almost made me admit that his freckles were the only thing I wanted I paint. The desire seemed to come from somewhere outside of me. It’s not something I would’ve said to him at that time no matter how true it was.

My mind starts racing, picking up the pieces one by one. The unnatural creature that attacked Lupa. My brother’s missing soul.

’Tis all magic. Magic unbounded by art and bargains or anything I’ve ever heard of before.

Sod it all to hell, the prior killed by Piero was right. The Medici are getting far more from the demons than they let on. Their household never had its own angel because they didn’t need one.

They found a way to wield magic on their own.

I swallow, a sick feeling coursing through me. “Do you know how Piero got his power?”

Clarice scoffs. “Isn’t it obvious? The devil has turned his heart away from God.” The rosary clicks faster, louder. No longer counting prayers but racing heartbeats.

Leonardo and I exchange an appalled look over her bowed shoulders. “You mean that… figuratively, right?” I say.

Leonardo’s voice drops lower. “Can you take us to the room you mentioned before?”

She shakes her head, knuckles white on the rosary. “The chapel is the only place where I feel safe.”