Two years prior

Isabella felt the freedom in her veins as her horse glided like the wind though the Florentine countryside. The longer she spent from the Medici estate the quicker she forgot to be afraid. The fresh air gave her confidence as the fields and vineyards sped past her. Once the city of Florence had been gulped by the night, Isabella let her dark cowl fall to her shoulders. Her brown curls trailed behind her almost as carefree as she was.

Isabella knew that upon the morning her grandfather would order the Medici guards to hunt her down and bring her back to the estate. As a precaution, Isabella had brought a dagger at her side. She did not wish for a simple confrontation turn to injury, but if did come to that she was prepared. The Medici guard were simple boys who did not understand her strength. A year locked away had given Isabella time to build her power for there was nothing else to do once the books ran dry.

In the distance, a voice rang. It was so far that Isabella scarcely heard it. Nonetheless, she did.

"Isabella de Medici!"

The girl felt her heart skip a beat from fear. She pulled the reins and galloped into the forest that lined the wood. Isabella pulled the cowl up once again. She could not risk the guard spotting her pale skin in the woods.

Lanterns emerged from around the bend. This gave the young Medici haste. Her dark horse guided her through the woods. The mare seemed to understand exactly what urgency and precision was required to navigate the terrain. Fallen trees were nothing to the mare. The light behind Isabella faded to darkness as she reached the center of the woods. The black between the trees were the deepest she had ever witnessed. The moonlight struggled to reach the forest floor. Still, Isabella galloped. The cool air numbed her nose and ears, brought water to her eyes. The fear of becoming lost was lesser than the fear of returning to the Medicis'. Just as she felt the freedom return, she cautioned a glance behind her to ensure celebration.

A moment too soon.

The branch hung low. Isabella had been able to avoid the rest but unfortunately there were no eyes in the back of her head. She met it face on and scarcely felt the pain from from collision. Her body went limp and fell from her horse. The mare dragged her body a way through the leaves and needles before her foot loosened from the stirrup.

The unconscious Medici laid on the forest floor for a moment. She woke to the wet leaves and sound of her doom in the distance. There was no possibility that she could outrun the Medici guard on foot. Isabella was now sentenced to being captured by the guard or trampled by their horses.

She softly begged for the later.

All hope drained from her body. The least she could do was curl into a ball and await death. Just as she began to mumble her last prayers of repentance, a figure loomed over her. "Isabella! Get up!"

She moaned. "No..." The figure, male, sighed and wrenched her arm. Isabella yelped in pain. He lifted her up and took her to the side.

There was a tree whose bottom's earth had worn out around it. The roots offered shelter for the two from the Medici guard. The woods span around Isabella. She had yet to resume her focus on a fixed point. The stranger covered Isabella with his cloak and shrouded her in darkness. He pulled her close to her chest. Out of the chaos she could hear a very steady heartbeat- one that had forgotten how to panic. It was soothing.

"Isabella de Medici!" the familiar guard yelled. How had they managed to track her this far? Maybe they weren't idiots like she had thought. The hooves made the ground shake and Isabella's breathing became curt and rapid.

The stranger placed a hand over her mouth to quiet her. Through the cloak Isabella saw the light from the lanterns. They passed. "I see a horse up ahead!" one of them yelled. They had seen Isabella's horse who had abandoned her. She quietly wished it luck, for she had received it for her twelfth name day. If the guard captured it and took it back to the estate, it would not fare well.

Isabella could picture it now, the guard bringing in another horse. Her parent's hopes would rise with the sight of the familiar animal and run down the stairs. Her mother would begin to cry from joy but her father would know better to have a premature celebration. He would inquire where Isabella was and one of the guards would shake their heads. Her mother collapses from grief- fearing the worst. Her father would take her in his arms and remind her that their daughter is strong and smart. Her grandfather would return his study, without a word, relieved that the black sheep of the family was dead, kidnapped, or lost. The thought did not bode well with Isabella. So much that she hadn't realized that the men had passed and the roar faded into the distance.

There was a beat. Neither Isabella nor the stranger moved in the slightest. The cloak uncovered her. Isabella looked up to the stranger to recognize them, but she couldn't focus. Their cowl obscured their face.

"Who...?" Isabella struggled. The man reached for the cowl and her heart raced. Was it a mercenary that her grandfather sent? A rapist? A kidnapper, ready to hold her ransom against her fam-

The forest went quiet for a moment as Isabella recognized the stranger.

"Albizzi?"

***

A storm raged outside. Isabella stared out into the darkness of Florence with her mother. They held hands. Isabella gently squeezed her mother's hand three times. I. Love. You. It had become their quiet way of expressing devotion when Grandfather had banned it.

Isabella could feel her mother's worry. Her father had left in the afternoon and had yet to return. Isabella worried herself. Her love for her father was a complicated thing built on understanding. Isabella partially resented her father for letting her grandfather treat her terribly, but knew that there were limitations to her father's power over her grandfather. No doubt he was somewhere contemplating how he should move the family forward. Should he follow through on the punishment that destined to end on Isabella's twentieth name day, or grant her clemency? Should he wait until Grandmother died as well?

"Isabella!" Grandmother's voice cut through Isabella's thoughts. "Sit down at the table!"

Her mother squeezed her hand one last time before letting go. She sat down in the chair next to her grandmother. God, how she hated that spot. It was in front of her brother and next to the most horrendous woman in the world. She had yet to fathom how her uncle and father managed to remain sane throughout their childhood. The only redeeming factor was that it was next to her mother.

"Piero, are you quite alright?" Isabella chanced a glance at her brother. Tears freely fell from his face. Of course he would still be crying. He worshiped the ground that Grandfather walked on. Isabella caught his eye and looked down at her plate.

"I'm fine Grandmother."

Isabella held back a laugh.

"Then stop making a spectacle of yourself with those tears! Your grandfather would want you to show strength!"

At least he didn't get hit harder if he began to cry. Isabella thought. Over the years she had learned to hold them back.

The door opened and Lorenzo walked in. Isabella was surprised to see that her uncle was not drunk.  In his emotional states he usually went to his chambers with a bottle of wine. He gently placed his hands on Piero's shoulders as a sign of comfort. Isabella's head was still down, as it had always been. Lorenzo took a risk and went around the table. He leaned over and gently placed a kiss on Isabella's hairline.

Isabella's throat swelled.

"You think her punishment is over now that your father is dead?" Grandmother questioned. "After how she has scorned us?"

Lorenzo placed a hand on Isabella's shoulder. "Surely she has suffered enough? It's been three years!"

"Not while I'm alive," Grandmother slapped her son's hand. Isabella flinched. Isabella felt the look of pity that he cast her.

"Where is my son?" Grandmother asked.

"He went out this morning," Isabella's mother spoke. She still stood by the window.

"He had a meeting this morning. Marco Bello's gone out to look for him," there was a touch of spite in Lorenzo's voice, from the earlier conversation.

Grandmother took a breath. "Missing dinner. His father's not been in the grave one day and he's already neglecting his family."

Isabella resisted the urge to speak against Grandmother. So, my father missing dinner is neglect of the family while the abuse I've endured for the past three years is not? She knew that if she did, a cold, hard hand would meet her cheek.

***

Grandmother had gone to sleep, which meant Isabella now had free reign of the house. An added perk being she could now speak freely to her family. Her Grandmother was a heavy sleeper, unlike Grandfather, so she could maintain conversations.

She sat next to her mother on a bench facing the window. The two peered outside, waiting for Cosimo. "Do you think Father will treat me the same as Grandfather?" Isabella asked. She knew the answer was no, but a sinking feeling in her stomach told her to ask.

Isabella saw that her mother was taken aback in the reflection of the window. "I... Isabella, of course not! He loves you. Your Father would never do such things." Her mother took her hand. "You know how opposed he was to your grandfather."

Isabella took a breath. "But I've done so much to this family. I've-"

"None of those things are your fault. You thought you being right and you were. Your grandfather forced you into some of those positions."

"What about the others? The vow I made?"

Her mother turned back to the window. "That's between you and the Lord. Nobody can oppose that."

Isabella felt uncomfortable. "You still don't like the fact that made that vow?"

"I wish I could understand it," her mother said, almost a whisper.

Isabella and her mother sat in silence. Isabella contemplated for a moment to let her mother know why she took the vow of Perpetual Virginity. The truth could lead her to her death. The two people who knew already were too many. Marco Bello and Ormanno dell Albizzi. Isabella knew that Marco Bello would take the truth to his grave, but Isabella hadn't spoken to her ex-fiancé for years. She wasn't dead yet- a sign he had kept his promise.

A familiar figure on horseback trotted down the road toward the estate. Isabella was faster than her mother to reach the door. Letting her father in would give her a breath of fresh air. The obelisk of a door creaked open and Isabella held it for her father. As he guided his horse past, he stopped for a moment to kiss her brow. She grinned at her father's back before she shut the door.

Her parents were quick to meet- well, her mother ran to her father. She could hear her mother interrogating her father. "Cosimo, where have you been? We've been worried sick!"

Their bedroom door slammed shut and Isabella was left in the entryway. Isabella scaled the steps of the house to go upstairs to her room. It was late and she had a new book that her brother had given her waiting. Her bare feet made no noise on the stone floor, a trick she had learned after her three years of captivity. Shoes create noise, noise creates a disturbance, a disturbance creates anger in certain family members.

Her door was already open. She carefully walked in to find Marco Bello sitting on her windowsill. Before Isabella could say a word, Marco held out an apple. "You barely ate at dinner."

He was correct and Isabella took the fruit from his hand. "You weren't even here. You were looking for my father."

"I don't have to be here to know that your grandmother scared your appetite from you," Marco turned to face her. His hair was wet from the rain and stuck to his forehead. "Are you okay?"

"I've been better," Isabella took a bite from her apple.

"Is it your father?" Marco asked. God, he knew her well.

There was moment of silence. "He asked me if I killed my grandfather- or at least thought about it." Isabella swallowed.

It was a sin to lie, but it was also a sin to wish death on another human being. She had never lied to her father, and he would know if she did. "I... I... I would be lying if I said no," Isabella felt the guilt rise up in her chest. She stared at her bare feet and struggled to not let tears swell in her eyes. "You have to understand, I-"

"You don't have to explain yourself," Cosimo cut her off. "You are human. It would be a miracle if you didn't." Isabella looked up at her father's mournful face. His jaw tightened, "...considering how he treated you."

"Then.." Isabella's brow furrowed. "What do you want to know?" Cosimo took Isabella's petite hand in his. His hands were soft, from never working in fields but instead in a bank. Isabella's were rough and calloused- strange for a girl of her standing.

"Where were you the day your grandfather died?"

"Here. At the estate. Just as I have been for the last year and a half. Marco can confirm it."

Cosimo nodded. "Have you been in contact with anyone from outside the estate? People who would know of how..." he couldn't complete the sentence.

Isabella's heart skipped a beat. She had to lie. She could not reaffirm Cosimo's hatred for them- even if they did kill Grandfather.

"No."

Cosimo studied her for a moment. "Good," he said. "I also have one other thing." He reached in a desk drawer and procured something wrapped in cloth. He sat back in front of Isabella and gently placed it in her hands.

Isabella gently uncovered the item. Sitting on her lap, stark against the white lenin, was a brooch. The Medici seal, five white pearls and blue stone stood against a dark red background inlaid in gold. Not an exact reproduction, but obviously her father had it created to suit her, not the entire family. Isabella gently picked it up to inspect it. "Careful," Cosimo wrapped his hands around her's. "The pin itself is sharp enough to do real damage and pain." He grinned. "Which is precisely what I got it for. I know you don't like having things just for their beauty."

"Oh, Father," Isabella could feel tears begin to drip down her cheeks. This was a symbol. A symbol of her re-admittance back into the family. A symbol of acceptance. A symbol of apology from her father for how she had been treated. "I love it. Thank you."

Cosimo cradled his daughter's face in his hands. "I promise you, you will never, ever be captive in your own home again. And you will never live in fear of anyone." He placed a kiss on her brow.

Even though he told her otherwise, Isabella's stomach sank as she remembered that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree- time can only tell if a tree will grow in its place.

Marco inspected the brooch. "Your father chose well."

Isabella swallowed a bite of her apple. "He did."

"And you are allowed to come and go as you please?"

"Yes."

Marco nodded. "He is doing well- making up for you grandfather," he said. "Are your wounds healing?"

Isabella began to undo her dress and let it fall to her hips to expose her torso. Up the side of her stomach from her navel to her breast was the last physical memory of her grandfather- but not the worst. The burn was hot to the touch and pain radiated throughout her body. Marco was the only person in the house who actually knew the extent of her injuries from her grandfather. Most of the household assumed that it was slaps or punches- anything visible. Marco knew the truth.

He bent down next to her chair and gently brushed his fingers against the burn. His cold, wet hands felt soothing at first, but the pressure cause Isabella to yelp and see the room spin. Even after four days the burn felt just as raw as when it occurred.

Marco let out a familiar heavy sigh. "I will be back with ointment and wine." He stood and Isabella listened to his footsteps recede down the hallway.

Isabella pulled a blanket around herself and let her dress drop to the floor. Nudity was no issue in the Medici household. At least every person had seen each other naked. Isabella used to go to the Roman baths with Lucrezia and her mother all of the time. Too many times had Isabella walked into her uncle's room to find him asleep, naked, and hungover. Since Peiro and Isabella were siblings it was almost required that they grew up taking baths together and actually sharing a room. Even the house was decorated with nudity- painted on the walls and in sculpture.Even since Marco had began tending to her wounds, Isabella's bare skin was nothing new to him. If anything, if made him stressed and angry seeing all of her scars and bruises.

Isabella curled up on her bed and bit her lip as she struggled not to cry out due to pain. The blankets were gentler than her dress, but the pain was still present.

Marco reentered the holding a jar in one hand and glass in the other. He handed the wine to Isabella first. Isabella knew the routine: drink wine, dull her senses, and pray to God that she could bear the agony. Isabella tasted the extremely dry wine (probably from her uncle's stash) slip down her throat. She felt groggy. Marco gently pressed the cool ointment into her wound, hyper aware of the pain he was causing. Isabella bit her pillow to try to stifle her screams. She mostly succeeded.

"I'm so sorry," Marco said. He covered the jar and pulled the covers over Isabella. He bent down and put a kiss on her cheek while water dripped down from his hair. "Take solace in the fact that this will never happen to you again."