Isabella wrung out another towel for Lucrezia. Her mother left to rest some time ago. Now it was just Isabella, an unconscious Lucrezia, and her brother. Piero sat on the opposite side of the bed holding his wife's hand. Isabella didn't acknowledge the prayers he was muttering under his breath.

In any other situation she would be holding her rosary, but she had left it behind at the church. The rosary had been a gift from the pope. He had visited the Medici household when Isabella was ten. Each family member had received a small gift for their contribution from the church. Mother a hairclip, Father a book, Piero a figurine of a knight, and Isabella a rosary. She didn't quite understand the meaning behind the gift then, but she would later learn that Pope had seen spiritual potential in Isabella.

Ever since her vow, she kept the rosary on her person at all times. A small reminder of her promise to the Lord and the church. The wooden beads had been rubbed smooth by Isabella's constant fidgeting.

Its absence did not go unnoticed as much as Isabella would have liked. Her mother chastised her for possibly losing it and had Isabella search the entire estate. Twice. The search ended with Isabella crying in her mother's arms in her room. Contessina eventually caved at the sight and promised Isabella a new one.

Since her father wasn't letting Isabella leaving the house, this time for her own safety, so she couldn't go back to the church and look for it. Isabella held little resentment toward her father for holding her inside. She was allowed to leave as long as she was with one of the men, but on her own it was forbidden.

"Piero..." Lucrezia murmured weakly. Isabella's brother leaned forward. She could see a mix of hope and sadness in his eyes. The sentence didn't continue. It was the mumbling of a sick woman.

The door opened. Piero and Isabella looked up. Their father stood in the doorway- his face expressionless. "How is she?"

"Not better nor worse," Isabella replied.

Their father nodded. "Isabella I need to speak to you."

She handed the towel to Piero, who cast her a look of confusion. What would their father request of her? She hadn't been bad; she hadn't left the estate- so what was it? Isabella stood and followed her father.

Instead of taking her to his office he instead brought her to Lorenzo's bedroom. God, she hoped her uncle was dressed.

Two men exited her uncle's room and Cosimo quickened his pace. "Those men? Who were they?"

"It doesn't concern you."

Both Isabella and her uncle knew immediately that he should not have said that. Cosimo stood in front of Isabella, almost as if he was protecting her. "Any strangers in my home at this moment concerns me."

A moment of silence passed between the three. Lorenzo's expression changed from stony to mournful. "I'm looking for her."

"Rosa?"

"I can't get her out of my mind, Cosimo. I loved her."

Isabella recalled seeing her uncle and the young woman. Any bystander could easily tell they were in love. She'd seen kisses exchanged between the two and heard much more. It was almost impossible for anything to go unnoticed under her watch. Isabella had probably noticed the couple before her grandfather.

She liked Rosa. Rosa was empathetic of her situation. She would hear Rosa begging her uncle to at least pay more attention to Isabella- and he did. Rosa would sit with Isabella in the estate garden and make flower crowns with her while reciting Bible verses. Lorenzo might have visited them, kissing Isabella on the forehead and Rosa on the lips.

At night, Isabella prayed for the couple's happiness. After a while, the prayers felt empty- like they couldn't do their job anymore. A total sense of dread had overcome Isabella. Her stomach had begun hurting worse than usual and each month she bled more and more. She didn't want to acknowledge them- but thoughts led her to believing it was related to her uncle's love.

"I don't care what anyone says, she wouldn't just disappear."

Isabella stared at the floor and remained quiet. It was not her place to say a word.

"It has been months Lorenzo."

"So you're telling me to just give up?" he inquired with an edge to his voice. "Like you did with that girl that you loved all those years ago?"

Her brows furrowed in confusion. She had never heard of any woman in her father's life before her mother. Isabella had always presumed that her parents had always been exclusive to each other. Never had she considered their lives before marriage.

"I would never presume to tell you what to do," Cosimo said.

Lorenzo cut the subject off. "What is it you want, brother?"

"If I am to act against Albizzi, I need allies."

"What kind of allies?"

"The kind one finds in Rome."

Isabella couldn't stop her gasp. "That's why you want me! You want uncle and I to persuade the Pope!"

"He does... favor you above others," Cosimo said. Isabella knew he didn't want to speak directly about her vow. "I want you two to prevail on him to sue for peace."

"I don't see why Albizzi would listen to the Pope," Lorenzo spoke bitterly.

"Albizzi is a holy man," Isabella said. She treaded carefully. "He will listen to whatever the Pope commands of him."

"And if he doesn't?" her uncle asked.

Her father thought for a moment. "The Pope has certain... spiritual tools at his disposal. "

Isabella's heart skipped a beat. Her father was implying that they were to convince the Pope to sue for peace with the threat of refusing Albizzi the Holy Communion. She knew it was dangerous, but perhaps she could find a way to speak to the Pope privately. "When shall we leave?"

"Before the sun sets," her father stood. Lorenzo and Isabella exchanged glances. "Your horses have already been prepared."

***

Two years prior

A week had passed since Isabella had arrived at the Albizzi estate. Her wounds had began to heal and her figure had began to fill out. Rinaldo had made it clear she was free to leave at any time, but encouraged her to stay until she recovered- both physically and mentally.

Isabella hadn't seen much of Ormanno. He was avoiding her, she knew it. The small conversations that they had were awkward and filled with silences. She knew he was fuming with anger about what Grandfather had done to her and he seemed to take precautions with his words- as if he was afraid a sentence would break her. However, when she was practicing with her sword, she'd seen his eyes slip down to her chest. It was a hot summer, so she went bare underneath a blouse and none of the Albizzi seemed to mind. Servants cast her looks of disbelief, Rinaldo was amused and impressed at her confidence, Alessandra was more concerned about her hurting herself than her modesty, and Ormanno just watched.

Isabella knew somewhere in his mind he was imagining that they were married. They would be if it wasn't for the vow. Isabella loved Ormanno, just not the way a husband and wife would. Her feelings for him were complicated. If she had to marry, she would marry Ormanno- but she couldn't now. Even though years had passed, Isabella was still in awe of how causal he was about the vow, how he didn't take it personally. One of the reasons had to be was that Ormanno was the first person Isabella consulted about the vow. Ormanno, being the romantic he is, climbed up one of the vines next to her window like a prince from a fairytail almost every night they were engaged.

On this particular early morning Isabella was practicing her balance. She may not have the brute force that most men do, but she could almost dance around them and take opportune stabs and swings.

The cool stone scraped her palms as she attempted to stand on her hands.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

"How do you manage to do that?"

The voice startled her and she tumbled.

Damnit.

Isabella brushed off her palms and cocked an eyebrow at Ormanno. "Practice."

"Could you teach me?"

She looked him up and down. Yes, Ormanno was a soldier, but he was trained in strength. He didn't quite have the build for flowing and dancing. "I could," Isabella said. "How well can you stretch?"

"Huh?"

As an example, Isabella quickly and skillfully lowered herself onto the ground in a complete split. She smirked and nodded to Ormanno.

Isabella didn't stifle her laugh as she watched Ormanno struggle with the stance. His grunts increased in pitch. He was only at the halfway point but his face was red with both pain and embarrassment. He must have felt strangely inferior to her.

"Not bad for a first try," Isabella commented. She hopped back into a standing position and held out a hand for Ormanno. "You should do some cat watching. They are good teachers."

Ormanno took her hand and she pulled him up. The old scars from her childhood bout of the plague rippled with her muscles. She never really cared about the scars on her body, for they would usually be covered. The scars up the side of her face and cheek caused her distress, but not for the fact that they obscured beauty- but because they were one more reason for her not be taken seriously.

"But actually," she said. "You don't need good flexibility to have balance. I just wanted to see if you could do that."

"Oh you..." he didn't finish the taunt, for Isabella grabbed his hands and twirled him around. She skillfully balanced on her toes while Ormanno stumbled. She stopped him abruptly and interlaced her fingers between his.

"Left foot."

"Sorry?'

"Stand on your left foot, lest I kick the right out from under you."

Confused, he obliged. As soon as he gained his balanced with Isabella's aid- she spun him around again.

"Left again."

Up went his left foot.

Another spin.

"Right foot."

His feet didn't receive the message and instead he lifted his left. Ormanno realized his mistake a moment too late. Isabella hooked his right ankle and pulled it out from under him. He collapsed and clung to Isabella, with his head situated between her breasts.

There was a small silence.

"Unless you plan to suckle my breasts like a babe I think you should move."

Ormanno's face flushed with embarrassment. He stood up straight. "Sorry," he stuttered.

Oh, you hopeless lover boy, Isabella thought. 

Isabella jumped away from him, with her fingers slightly interlaced between his. She was the lead. "Right foot," she said.

He lifted his right and managed to balance with minimal help from Isabella. "Don't let that foot touch the ground!" She spun Ormanno once again and watched as he pivoted on his foot. He was learning fast.

The dance continued until the pair was covered in sweat and couldn't focus on the floors or the walls. They collapsed laughing the nearby garden underneath an apple tree.

Ormanno rolled onto his side and offered Isabella a red apple. "For m'lady," he said, jesting.

"Thank you my good sir," Isabella took a bite out of the ripe fruit. "When will your father return from Florence?"

Ormanno's eyebrows furrowed. "I believe later tonight. He said he should be back before supper."

It was late in the morning.

Isabella closed her eyes and enjoyed the breeze against her freckles and scars. She opened them and found Ormanno staring at her with a silly grin on his face. "You're thinking about us married, aren't you?"

His face flushed but the grin remained. "Yes. Yes I am."

"Tell me about it."

"We would live on my family's estate with our children running around. Two boys and two girls. Two of them would be named after us and without a doubt you would name the others from epics or the Bible. Our eldest son would follow me to the Signoria to learn how to lead our Republic and become a soldier. I would come home to find you brushing our daughters' hair and singing lullabies in that beautiful voice of yours," he reached over and held her old engagement ring between his fingers. The simple gold band with a small pearl pressed into it, one that Ormanno had bought on the Ponte Vecchio and delivered to her in the middle of the night, still rested on her hand. Isabella couldn't bring herself to take the ring off. Ormanno took her hand and pulled Isabella closer to him. He leaned over and whispered into Isabella's ear, "And while the children are asleep we would work on making another."

"Ormanno!" She playfully pushed his shoulder.

"Am I wrong?"

"Of course not," Isabella propped herself on her elbows and gently caressed his lips with hers. Oh, how she missed this. How Ormanno brushed her curls behind her ear and her fingers caressed his stubbled chin. How safe she felt with him. How much she loved him.

Ormanno pulled away. "I don't understand," he whispered.

"Sorry?"

"I don't understand why you took the vow."

Isabella sat up to avoid his gaze. "I felt like it was the right thing to do. I wish with all of my heart that you and I are wed, but I felt like it wasn't what the Lord wanted me to do. Something told me that I was meant for more than to be a wife."

The last and unspoken reason, she withheld.

"So what do you do now?"

Isabella cast her gaze across the gardens. "I have no idea, but I am sure whatever happens is what the Lord wants."

Ormanno was silent for a moment. "You want to fight, don't you?"

"I wouldn't say no."

"Well," Ormanno held her hand up to look at her ring once more, "I can't say you are not prepared."

A silence passed between the two. Isabella curled up against Ormanno's chest and the two fell asleep.

***

Isabella pulled her cowl over her head. She had placed her hair in a braid, nothing annoyed her more than her hair flying into her face. Not to mention it would be rather embarrassing to approach God's representative with windswept hair.

She said goodbye to Piero, Lucrezia, and her mother upstairs. Lucrezia was still drifting in and out of sleep. Isabella was to fearful to admit to herself that it might have been the last time she saw her sister in law alive. Piero was still distraught, so she simply gave him a kiss on his head. Isabella had lit a candle next to the bed, a symbol of her ongoing prayer for the two.

Cosimo walked up to Lorenzo and Isabella just as the two mounted their horses. "Lorenzo," he held up a letter, "May you please deliver this to the Pope?"

Lorenzo opened the parchment and read it. Isabella felt like the letter had something to do about her, because as Lorenzo placed it in his saddlebag he glanced at her. "I will, brother."

Isabella dismounted and went to hug her father. She had no idea how long she and her uncle will be in Rome debating back and forth with the Pope. Behind her father she saw Marco leaning against a doorway- he respectively nodded. Cosimo kissed her cheek, "Be good," he whispered in her ear, "Listen to your uncle. Remember I love you."

"I love you too," she whispered back.

The two broke the embrace and Isabella climbed back onto the horse. Lorenzo nodded and the two galloped out of the estate. Darkness had already fallen on Florence and the pair's gallop echoed off of the stone walls. The wind whistling in Isabella's ears was reminiscent of her escape from the Medici estate two years before, with the lack of anxiety and fear.

Isabella's schiavona was strapped to her back, partially obscured by her cloak. Roads often fell under the jurisdiction of bandits and thieves, especially during the chaos of wartime. Anyone who attempted to attack the, seemingly petite, girl would be in for a rather powerful surprise. Isabella armed herself from experience also. She knew Lorenzo was actually the best at combat, even if he liked to boast that he was. Too many times Isabella had seen Lorenzo return to the estate bloodied from a drunken fight. Since sobriety was rare from Lorenzo when needed, Isabella felt it was best to only count on her abilities.

"State your business for leaving Florence,"

A guard blocked their way at the gate. It was relatively new installment- created to prevent distraught wives or mothers from running to the battlefield and from letting battle plans go to the Milanese. Even though this was the guard's singular duty, he didn't seem to care that much. He leaned against his sword with palatable disinterest. In the light of the torches, dark circles had made home under his eyes. Lorenzo and Isabella were just another obstacle to his sleep.

Nevertheless, Lorenzo passed down a small piece of parchment with Cosimo's handwriting. The guard read the words and his eyes seemed to grow larger with each word. He quickly gave the parchment back, "Of course, Messer Medici."

With a new urgency in his step, the guard hit the shins of his comrades to wake them. "Open the gate!" Several of the guards groaned in protest, but upon seeing the two Medici on horseback waiting, they moved to open the cast iron gate.

Once the gate was open, Isabella nodded politely to the men. Many of them were her own age and she saw one of them turn a deep red at being noticed by the Medici. She held back her chuckle and followed Lorenzo out of the city.

In the distance, the horizon was lit with the flames of war. Torches dotted the roads as soldiers went back and forth from their camps to the battlefields. Florentine vineyards were aflame at the hands of the Milanese in an effort to ruin the economy further.

Even if sueing for peace came with a cost for the Albizzi, Isabella could only hope that the result would end the insurmountable suffering.