-THE BOOK OF THE ETERNAL ROSE

fifteen.

Before Cass could utter a word, before she could begin to explain to Signor Sesti that there had been a horrible mistake and she was absolutely not ready to be fitted for her wedding dress, the tailor disappeared into the back room and the shop door squeaked open again.

Madalena entered, dressed in a pale lavender gown with silver sleeves and an indigo underskirt. The collar of her cloak was dyed dark purple to match. Mink fur, it looked like. Maybe fox. Mada adjusted her layered skirts and kicked off a pair of impossibly tall chopines as she glided across the front of the shop.

Her lady's maid, Eva, scooped up the shoes and set them just inside the door to the shop. "Signorina Madalena," the girl said. "I'll walk down to the market to get the items your father requested. I'll return in thirty minutes?"

"That's fine." Madalena dismissed the girl with a wave of her fingers.

Cass had never been so relieved to see her friend. "Mada," she exclaimed. "There's been a mistake-surely you're the one getting fitted for your wedding dress? An alteration, perhaps?"

Madalena's heart-shaped mouth widened into a grin. "My dress has been finished for weeks." She freed a tendril of her hair that had caught itself beneath the scooping neckline of her gown. "No, your aunt sent her dotty old handmaid to my palazzo with a message that I was to meet you here to share this special moment." She giggled.

Cass worried she might throw up.

Signor Sesti returned from the back room with a measuring ribbon and the two main fabrics Agnese had selected. Mada reached out to touch the bronze satin, fingering the metallic strands woven within the dyed fibers.

"I love this one, don't you?" Mada chirped.

Cass couldn't answer. She couldn't breathe; she had a desperate urge to undo her stays, as she had done with Falco on the bridge.

Feeling as though she were in a dream, she allowed the tailor to lead her over to a small fitting room in the corner of the shop, while Mada trailed behind them. Even when Siena helped remove her skirts and bodice, Cass still felt as though she were being squeezed from all sides.

The tailor motioned for Cass to step up onto a raised platform in front of the mirror. For the first time, she felt almost naked in her long chemise. It didn't usually bother her, but her body felt different now; her skin burned with secrets. Falco. The studio. His mouth on hers. Signor Sesti began draping and pinning fabric around her.

"Why didn't you tell me you had set a date for your wedding?" Mada asked. Cass could tell she was struggling not to seem hurt.

"I haven't set a date for my wedding," Cass insisted. "You know it will take months for this dress to be made." She immediately felt the sharp stick of a pin in her left hip.

"Signorina. You will need to stand still," the tailor said, humming under his breath.

"I don't even know when Luca's returning to Venice," Cass went on. The words comforted her immediately. Of course-just because she was being fitted for her dress didn't mean she would be married any sooner. Did it?

Siena cleared her throat. She'd been so quiet since Madalena arrived that Cass had almost forgotten she was there. "I believe I saw Signor da Peraga at the market yesterday," she said. "Did his letter not say he was returning to Venice?"

"You must be mistaken, Siena," Cass said. "Luca would have come directly to the villa if he were back in town."

Madalena ignored Siena and went to stand beside Cass. She watched the tailor as he worked, wrapping circles of the glimmering bronze fabric around Cass's slender frame. "Agnese must have arranged a date for you, or she wouldn't have scheduled a fitting." Mada pursed her lips as the tailor wrapped a ribbon around Cass's waist and marked it with a piece of chalk. "You really ought to think about putting on a little weight before you get married. I'm sure Luca would prefer you a bit more filled out."

Cass frowned. She hadn't been eating that much lately. Who could think of food? She had too much on her mind: the murder, the missing body. Kissing a stranger.

Mada pulled a jeweled hair clip from the back of her head, and her shiny brown braids tumbled around her face. "I have to say-I don't see why you couldn't wait until after my wedding to begin planning your own." This time, the hurt in her voice was evident.

"Madalena, I swear. I am as surprised as you are about all of this. I don't know what Aunt Agnese was thinking." But she did know. Agnese might not have caught Cass on the Rialto, but she knew that her niece was misbehaving. What better way to force Cass back into line than threaten to move up the wedding?

Cass shook her head and the tailor muttered under his breath. "Sorry," she said while he fashioned a high collar around her neck made of starched lace. Then to Mada: "If it were up to me, I would have waited a year or more to even think about any planning. I wish I could postpone the wedding indefinitely. I just don't feel ready. Sometimes I wish..."

Cass hesitated. She decided that Signor Sesti, as a tailor for both nobles and wealthy courtesans, was no stranger to gossip. Chances were that nothing she could say would make the old man's stoic face so much as twitch.

"What?" Mada prompted her.

"I wish I were a man," Cass burst out. "Or a courtesan, even. At least then I'd have some control over my own life."

"A courtesan?" Mada's voice sharpened to a screech. "You must be joking. They're no better than common whores. Today I passed the Rialto Bridge only to see some courtesan's stays dangling from a mooring post. I can only imagine how they got there."

Cass turned bright red. She had assumed her stays had ended up in the canal, not looped around a post for the whole world to see.

Mada took her embarrassment for surprise. "Yes, that's right. There's a little more to being a courtesan than control. Honestly, Cass, you should feel lucky that you won't have to wait an eternity to start your married life like me." She sighed dramatically.

"But what about love?" Cass blurted out, her mind returning to the kiss she had shared with Falco. A warmth bloomed inside her and spread throughout her limbs. How could a feeling so powerful be wrong?

Madalena again misinterpreted her. "I'm sure Luca loves you," she said. "And if not, he'll grow to, over time." She raised an eyebrow. "Or are you worried about the love that happens on the wedding night?"

Cass reddened again. She hadn't even let her mind go there, what it would be like to lie with Luca, skin to skin. They had only even kissed once, and that was because he had demanded it and Cass had been curious to know what it felt like. They'd been sitting on a bench in Agnese's garden. It had happened about three years ago, just before Luca left to study abroad. Back then, Agnese had more energy and used to tend the plants herself. The whole place had been ablaze with marigolds and roses.

"I'm going to kiss you now," Luca had announced, pressing her firmly back against a wooden trellis. She didn't even have time to close her eyes. She just watched as his pale skin came closer and closer. As he touched his cool lips to hers, all Cass could think about was the splinter digging into her shoulder blade; all she could see were the rose blossoms, blurring like red fire against the backdrop of the setting sun.

"You two will figure it out," Mada continued breezily. "I can hardly wait for my night with Marco." She winked at Cass. "I may not wait."

Cass couldn't help but laugh at that. She felt a rush of affection for her friend.

Signor Sesti stepped back. "What do you think?" he asked.

Cass looked up at her reflection in the mirror. The tailor had wrapped her in yards of brilliant bronze satin. He held up a smaller bolt of velvet brocade that was embossed with green flower patterns. "We'll use this for the bodice and sleeves. Do you like it?"

"It's beautiful," Cass admitted. The girl in the reflection looked like a stranger. The design really was gorgeous. The tailor had a fine eye for which colors complemented each other, and the green and bronze mixture worked well with her auburn hair.

A young boy appeared, dressed in plain leggings and a sleeveless leather doublet. He looked down at the ground as he mumbled something about problems with the latest shipment. The tailor excused himself and followed the boy through the door leading to the back of the shop.

"You really do look lovely," Madalena said, walking a slow circle around Cass as she spoke. "This dress will be almost as gorgeous as the last collection that Father brought home." She emphasized the almost very slightly.

Cass suppressed a smile. Madalena had always been competitive. Maybe that was why she and Cass got along so well. Cass didn't have much interest in competing, especially not about who had the shinier hair or the finer dresses. In those areas, Mada would always win. "I'm sure your wedding will be the event of the entire season," she said. "At least it's not being planned by a half-blind old lady whose favorite word is frivolous."

"I don't think you're being fair." Madalena pretended to chastise Cass. "I'm sure your aunt's favorite words are proper and decorum. Frivolous is at best a distant third."

The two girls giggled, and Mada launched into a story about her latest wedding preparations. "You wouldn't believe the gifts that are pouring in from Father's business associates: silver platters, a Brunelleschi painting, even an antique Roman bust of Nero that was discovered while digging a well. I don't know where we'll put everything." Madalena tossed some of her sleek fishbone braids back over her shoulders. "And the wedding feast! Boiled head of veal stuffed with capers and truffles, roast porcupine seasoned with cinnamon and cloves, and a whole arrangement of pies and pastries for dessert. And did I tell you a friend of my father's has imported wine and cheeses from France?" Madalena gushed. "My reception will be the talk of the city."

"Your father's friend," Cass said, striving to sound casual. "Do you mean Joseph Dubois?" Despite the story that Dubois had given to her aunt, she thought it highly odd that a servant from his estate had disappeared just a few days after his favorite courtesan had turned up dead.

Mada made a face like she'd just smelled something rancid. "Joseph Dubois? No. His parties are better known for their ladies than for their food, if you know what I mean. I was actually in attendance at his masquerade ball last night. You know that man had the audacity to hang a painting of himself right next to his portrait of the Doge? I daresay his was a bit larger too," she added. "Still, it was a good time. You should have come."

"Well, you know how my aunt feels about parties," Cass said, averting her eyes so that Mada wouldn't be able to read the lie there.

"Frivolous!" Mada declared, and Cass couldn't help bursting into laughter. Even Siena chimed in.

"I was referring to Father's friend Cristian," Mada said when she had recomposed herself. "You met him at my palazzo, remember?" Mada squeezed in next to Cass so that she could see her own reflection. She adjusted the strand of lilac pearls hanging tight around her throat and then pinched one of her dark braids between the thumb and forefinger of her gloved hand. "Do you think I should lighten my hair for the ceremony?"

Cass shook her head. "I think your hair is perfect just as it is. Besides, all the girls have taken to lightening their hair. You'll stand out more if you keep it dark."

Mada smiled at herself in the mirror, evidently pleased at the idea of standing out. Turning to face Cass, Mada ran her hands over the pinned fabric. She adjusted the draping neckline so that the top half of Cass's breasts peeked out. "Luca is going to faint when he sees you in this dress. Poor thing will spend the entire ceremony and reception counting the minutes until Siena strips you out of it for him."

Cass flinched as the bell above the shop door jangled, announcing the arrival of another patron. Balmy street air rushed into the fitting area as a masculine voice called out, "Bongiorno. Anyone here?" It was Marco, Mada's fiance.

"We're in here," Madalena called. "You can come in. She's decent."

Cass touched a hand to her face. Her skin felt warm. Suddenly, the pinned fabric felt heavy and confining. She didn't want anyone else to see her like this.

Too late.

Marco slipped into the fitting room and whistled long and low as he let the door close behind him. "Signorina Cassandra, you look stunning," he said, shaking his wavy brown hair back from his face. "I swear if I weren't already betrothed, I might ask for your hand right this second."

Madalena gave him a dark look, and he pretended to see her for the first time. "Only joking, my goddess," he said, moving to stand behind her. He swept her dark braids to one side and pressed his lips to her exposed neck.

Signor Sesti coughed as he returned from the back room, and Marco pulled his mouth away from Mada's skin.

"Mi dispiace, Signore." Marco straightened the golden medallion that hung around his neck. He gestured to his wife-to-be. "But can you blame me?"

"Marco." Madalena swatted at him, pretending to be angry. But it was as though his presence had made a flame come to life inside of her; she was glowing, radiating happiness and desire.

For the first time, Cass understood what it was like to burn in such a manner. But all of her burning was for Falco, the boy she'd never be allowed to marry, not for Luca, her fiance. Cass closed her eyes momentarily, remembering the surge of emotion that had coursed through her when Falco had first touched his lips to hers. She remembered the way her body had trembled, the way she felt as if she were emerging from a cold, dark tunnel into the light of day for the first time. Luca would never make her feel that way. Ever.

Why did life have to be so unfair?

Madalena and Marco left the shop to meet Cristian, who was joining them for the evening meal. Signor Sesti unpinned and unwound the fabric from Cass's body, jotting down some rough notes on a piece of parchment as he worked. Siena sat quietly on the bench at the back of the fitting area, watching the tailor as he transformed Cass from a princess back into a normal girl. Cass tried to engage her several times in conversation, but Siena just sat, nodding mutely.

"Are you all right, Siena?" Cass asked, her own spirits rising as the yards of glamorous fabric disappeared. "You're even quieter than usual."

"I was just wondering if I will be accompanying you to Signor da Peraga's estate, or if I will remain with your aunt." Siena began to help Cass get dressed once the tailor had finished removing his pins.

No wonder the girl looked as though she'd swallowed a frog. She was afraid she'd be left behind to molder at Agnese's estate.

"Of course you'll come with me," Cass said. "I'm sure Luca would be delighted to have you as part of the staff." Cass watched in the mirror as her lady's maid expertly threaded and tightened the laces of her bodice. "And we both know I'd be lost without you."

"But perhaps Signor da Peraga has a different lady's maid in mind for you?" Siena's pale reflection blushed scarlet. She nibbled at the edge of a fingernail.

Cass wondered what had put such thoughts in the girl's head. "Nonsense. You'll be joining me at Luca's and that's final." Even as she said it, she felt a twinge of anxiety. Was she really going to marry Luca? And was she now responsible for Siena's future as well as her own?

Later that night, as Cass prepared to meet up with Falco, images assailed her: Falco crashing into her on the day of Liviana's funeral. How he had helped her steer the gondola the first night they had traversed the lagoon together. Tommaso's studio, Falco's eyes drinking in every inch of her body, his hands gentle as he arranged her on the divan. And the kiss. The kiss. Her lips pulsed at the memory.

Madalena was marrying Marco, the man of her dreams, while Cass was denied love, prohibited from finding and pursuing it. If she didn't marry Luca, not only would she disappoint her aunt, but she might very well end up homeless and impoverished. What would Matteo think? Cass hated it that her choices had all been stolen away from her by a boy she'd never even met.

Cass knelt before the gilded crucifix hanging in her prayer alcove. She folded her hands and prayed to St. Anthony of Padua. Her mother used to pray to him when she had lost things. Cass was feeling a little lost herself.

Slipper appeared from the darkness of the armoire and rubbed up against her. Cass managed to smile. She held the cat against her chest, feeling the vibration of his purring against her skin.

Falco's words whispered in her ear. Stop worrying about the rest of the world. Do what feels right. Let go.

Cass stood up and blotted her face, which was wet, on her sleeve. She looked at the clock on her bedroom wall. It was time to meet Falco at Il Mar e la Spada. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror, wanting to look absolutely radiant for their meeting, wanting to feel Falco's lips on hers one last time.

Her future might have already been decided, but she was still in control of her present.

"To strangle a person by hand requires both superior strength and great determination. The thick cartilage of the throat must be completely constricted until suffocation occurs."

-THE BOOK OF THE ETERNAL ROSE

sixteen.

Cass moved quickly through the night, guided by the wavering light of her lantern and the certainty that she was doing the right thing. She couldn't believe how at ease she'd become with sneaking around in the dark. She slipped out of the villa, fleeing across the mossy lawn until she reached the path that ran along the shoreline. Sharp stones pressed through the soles of her flat shoes, making her wince. Cass sensed someone following her and whirled around just in time to watch the shadowy form of an emaciated black cat launch itself into a patch of high grass.

Cass held up her lantern as she approached the village. The tight cluster of buildings looked almost deserted, dark except for a faint glow coming from the taverna. Cass's heart propelled her forward. She knew that if she could lay eyes on Falco, everything wrong in her heart would fix itself. Falco didn't believe in fate, but Cass did. She felt as if the forces of the universe were guiding her safely through the night to the man who held all of the answers.

She took a deep breath and opened the door to the taverna, not knowing what she'd do if Falco wasn't there.

The place was warm and dark, reeking of sweat and sour ale. Despite the late hour, the taverna was crowded, and every man seemed to look up as the door swung shut behind her. A rumble of startled disbelief went through the crowd-the taverna was not a place for a woman, especially so late at night. Cass hoped the dim lamplight prevented her from being recognized by any of the villagers.

But then her heart leapt in her chest. He was here, just as he had promised he would be.

Falco sat with three other boys at a table on the far side of the bar. He hadn't yet looked up. Cass couldn't stop herself from breaking into a beaming smile. Just the curl of his dark brown hair against the worn collar of his shirt made her heart thud. Falco's roommate, Paolo, glanced at her with a knowing smirk. He leaned in to whisper something to Falco.

Falco looked up. His whole body seemed to relax when he saw Cass. Bounding off his chair, he weaved his way through the crowded taverna to where she stood just inside the door. "My lovely starling," he said. He cast a glance back at his friends. "Maybe we should talk outside."

Cass and Falco stepped out into the cool night. As the taverna door creaked shut, Falco immediately pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her. Cass rested her chin on his shoulder, breathing in the scent of paint and soap.

There were so many things she wanted to ask him: had he missed her, as she had missed him? Had he been thinking about her? Had he been thinking of their kiss? Her lips were just inches from the skin of his neck.

Instead, she moved back, just slightly, so she could look Falco in the eye, and said, "Did you discover anything today?"

"Nothing about de Gradi," Falco said. "I did find an artisan who believes he made the falcon mask, but he said the purchaser didn't leave a name or address. The man insisted on picking up the item himself since he lived just across the canal."

"Where is the shop?" she asked.