Belated happy new year!

Something wicked this way comes – the witches in Macbeth. The evil is Macbeth himself. 

The salon spun around them like a starry carousel.

Maybe it was the sparkling liquor Bianca had snuck for them from a servant, maybe it was the memory of flying around the ballroom in the girls' round dance. Laelia laughed, catching her breath after chasing the Medici daughter up the giant flight of stairs to the balcony running around the ballroom. It was a miracle they hadn't gotten tangled up in their ballgowns and tumbled down the stairs.

Giacinto had reappeared out of nowhere, gaze a bit too sharp among the dazed revellers, eyes glazed over with starlight, spinning dances and the pearls crushed in their wines. There was a smear of rusting blood around his knuckles. Marco Morosini, he had said. Lorenzo and Antonio's father, the duke's brother and the man who wanted all of them dead.

Laelia hadn't believed him at first – Signore Morosini had said he would return to Venice, his wife was about to give birth.

People lie, Giacinto had hissed and the pity in his eyes had half crushed, half enraged her.

He had dragged her across the room, barking for the Medici daughter she had seen him with earlier. Stay with Bianca. Don't leave the room. Stay out of his sight. Call the guards. He'd left without another word.

We can still have fun, Bianca had muttered, sticking out her tongue at Giacinto's back.

Laelia hadn't even known who Bianca was, except that for some reason, Giacinto had only danced with her. And that for some other, obscure reason, that bothered her. That she didn't know why he had danced with only her. Not that he danced with only her. 

I like your hairpin, she had said, trying to break the awkward silence.

Bianca had grinned. Thanks, it's poisoned.

There was no love at first sight, humans didn't work like that, her mother said love was a complicated mechanism to find mates and a pack, just an animals inability to tolerate loneliness, but Bianca challenged that hypothesis. The girl challenged everything. Giacinto, her mother, the old man that had looked at Laelia at bit too long.

She could see why Giacinto liked her.

"Why didn't I meet you before? Your mother had invited me to show me more poisons. Shouldn't you have been there?" Laelia asked.

Bianca pulled back from where she had leant over the balcony – people watching, she called it – blowing a golden curl out of her face. Apart from the blonde hair, she looked like her mother, with the same big brown eyes and curved lips, but less ... deadly. "I was hunting."

"Alone?"

"I had the hunters with me." Bianca said, as if that was as simple as two plus two.

"My father wouldn't even let me leave the house without a chaperone."

Bianca rolled her eyes. "That's because your father is a boring donkey." She noticed her mistake, cheeks turning pink. "Apologies. Your mother's words, not mine."

"You know my mother?"

Bianca furrowed her eyebrows. "I'd hope so. She's my godmother."

"I –" Laelia stopped, fingers tightening around her crystal glass. The sparkling wine sloshed dangerously. Was everyone keeping secrets from her?

Her own mother – she had always thought her mother was her ally in everything. She'd taught her the art of poison. She couldn't even cook, and yet she threatened to sautée Antonio's heart for Laelia if he showed his face again.

"You – you really didn't know?" Bianca frowned.

Laelia shook her head. The golden bubbles in her glass still floated merrily to the top, uncaring about the slow knot tightening in her stomach. No one told her anything.

Bianca grumbled. "Adults are stupid." She nudged Laelia with her elbow. "I'll tell you everything!"

"Everything?"

"Everything. And more, probably. Signore Marinos says I don't know how to shut up." Her grin  suggested she took it as more of a compliment than an insult.

"That's not very nice."

"I don't think he wants to be very nice."

Laelia stared down at the dancers below them. Lorenzo stood out like a beacon in pure white, keeping his father occupied. She'd caught his eye once or twice, noticing the tenseness hiding in the corner of his smile. "Aren't you two ... something?"

"Well, papa wanted us married."

Laelia looked up sharply. "But he doesn't have a title."

"Neither do the Medici. We're just very rich commoners running a city." Bianca's grin was devilish.

"But –"

"My brothers aren't too interested in the business. One loves art, the other tournaments. But Signore Marinos ... I swear, he can smell money from ten miles away. My father wanted to keep him in the family."

"Then you are –"

"Nothing. Giacinto said he's rich, has cats to feed and no family to bother him into marriage."

Laelia's face fell. "He doesn't have family?" But... sure, she couldn't recall anyone specific right now, but there had to be someone, right? She had probably just forgotten, silly Lia. Her mother always said she had her head in the clouds.

"Well, he probably didn't fall from the sky." Bianca grinned again, poking Laelia's cheek. "Don't pout. You're too pretty to pout." Then her expression turned thoughtful. "Though... sometimes it does feel like he just ... appeared. It's like he didn't exist until three years ago."

"But why does he work for you?"

"You know... it doesn't feel like he does. It's like a cat. You think they're your pet, but in reality, you're just their hairless waiter."

Laelia giggled. She could vividly picture Giacinto sitting on a cupboard, knocking glasses off the edge. Alessandro would bark up at him. They really were like cat and dog.

"I think he's using us. We're just too stupid to figure it out."

The giggle got stuck in Laelia's throat. It felt true, deep down. Giacinto looked so careless, but sometimes, for just a second, she thought she could see something else, shifting underneath that grin. "Maybe he just wants to work for the biggest bank. He likes numbers. You have lots of numbers."

"And you just want to flatter me so I'll tell you more."

Laelia jumped, hastily waving her hands, almost knocking her glass of the balcony, scrambling to stop more wine from spilling. "No, no, I didn't mean –"

Bianca laughed at her panicked expression. "I'm just teasing. I did say I'd tell you everything you want to know."

A deep breath rushed out of Laelia. She glared at the blonde. "That was mean."

"I have been told I have a strong personality for a woman. You know what? Let's play a game. I have like three thousand questions about you and your mother. You ask me a question, then I ask you a question, then you ask me a question –"

"You're just tyring to make me feel better about not knowing anything."

"Well, is it working?"

Laelia hid a smile. Was that what a real friend was like? "Maybe."

"I'll throw in a chocolate swan."

Laelia pretended to think about it, then grinned. "Deal."

"Hah!" Bianca laughed, clapping her hands. "Let's waylay one of the servants!" She startled Laelia when she linked their arms and wandered the balcony above the salon, like a hawk circling above its prey. A very excited, babbling hawk.

"You know they're your servants. You can just ask –"

"But that's boring." Bianca gasped. "Did that inspector infect you?"

"Alessandro is sick?" Laelia frowned. "I did give him a potion for the concussion, but that should be fine by now –"

"With his boringness." Bianca sighed. "At least he's handsome."

Laelia's felt her cheeks heat up. "He's not boring. He just – doesn't talk very much."

"He looked angry when I saw him."

"That was his friendly face!"

Bianca snorted. "Ouch."

"Or maybe he was just a bit annoyed you were with Giacinto. He's always annoyed when it comes to Giacinto."

Bianca narrowed her eyes at a servant appearing behind a corner, or rather, the pyramid of chocolate swans he was balancing on a tray. Even the tray was black steel. Black like the swan feather mask around his eyes, black like his uniform, black like the ballgown and veil Bianca wore. With a pang, Laelia realized the girl's father had been dead for less than a month, and still Bianca was so cheerful with her.

"Target spotted," Bianca announced, disentangled her arm from Laelia's and speed-walked towards the man. From the slight pause in his step, Laelia was quite certain the poor servant knew exactly what was coming for him. Not ten seconds later, Bianca reappeared with the tray and a toothy grin.

"You said one chocolate swan."

The pyramid of chocolate art wobbled dangerously in Bianca's hands. "Oh no, I am but a silly woman, incapable of counting! Oh, woe! How could this happen?"

Laelia hid her giggle behind her gloved hand. They were still as soft as when Gio had first given them to her, the pearls stitched on the back glittering in the light of the chandelier. She tugged them off, carefully tucking them in the sash around her waist. She hoped Giacinto was alright, whatever he and Alessandro were doing now. They were missing out on excellent dessert though. She took one of the offered swans, returning Bianca's grin. Maybe they could save some for them.

Or maybe not. The chocolate was so soft it melted right on her tongue, with a hint of strawberries, sweet and warm like the memory of summer. Bianca offered another.

"I'll die," Laelia groaned. "I'll turn to sugar."

"A hero's death."

This time, Laelia thought the chocolate swan tasted like friendship.

It wasn't like she had grown up in a tower like Rapunzel, locked away from all life. But her mother had seen little point in attending balls and soirees and tea parties. You're already engaged. You don't need them anymore. Don't waste time.

Her father would argue for her, let her have fun, she's young, but her mother just called him a power hungry fool, trying to sell his daughter. She is power, her mother had hissed. They will come to her.

She did still attend some, just enough to be elegantly elusive rather than an odd recluse, her mother said, and she did talk and joke with the other noblewomen, but ... it wasn't real.

Fools. Pretty fools, her mother called them. Sheep in jewellery, married off to the highest bidder. You're no sheep. You'll be the wolf.

Bianca's hand settled on her arm, squeezing. "One more swan? Miracle cure for sadness."

Laelia looked down at the sigil ring on Bianca's finger, the Medici's coat of arms carved into the proud gold. "Can you tell me about our mothers?"

Bianca chewed her lip for a second, then her eyes lit up. "I can even show you!"

"Show me?"

"Yes! It's a long story. It'll cheer you up. There's so much poison!" Bianca set down the tray, grabbing Laelia's hand. "Let's go!"

Laelia pulled her back. "But Gio said –"

"We won't leave the palace! We can call for guards if something happens!" Bianca danced on the spot, tugging Laelia's hand.

Laelia frowned, the knot in her stomach tightening. "He had a reason to tell us to stay here. We shouldn't –"

"How many decisions in your life have you made for yourself?"

"I – I decided to come with them, from Venice."

"And apart from that?"

"I chose my dress today. Well. Sandro helped with the colors and Zo –"

"None. Men made all decisions for you. You have a choice, they don't own you!" The sharp glint that entered Bianca's eyes suddenly made her look much more like the Lady Medici.

Laelia hesitated. "But..." It was true. When did she ever get to choose? She should get to choose.

"We can investigate! We'll be helping them! You said you felt bad, that you wanted to do something. This is something."

Earlier, Laelia had confessed her frustration when Bianca asked why she looked so torn about Giacinto telling her to stay behind with Bianca. The men always did everything. She did nothing. She was useless. If anything, she was slowing them down. She couldn't run as fast as them, she couldn't fight, she couldn't solve riddles like Alessandro.

"You defeated the Reaper twice! Besides, he's chasing the two anyways. And you said he used a lot of poisons, but you said Gio said he usually never uses poisons, so he can't be that good at it! But the poisons he used with the agents, the slow killing one, without antidote? Puffer fish, that's near impossible to get right. He's not working alone!"

Laelia froze. She had been thinking about it. She hadn't wanted to tell Alessandro, she didn't want to sound silly. But hearing it like that...

"Maybe we can find some hints in my mother's library! She keeps track of other poisoners, the good ones at least. We can figure out where he got it from!"

Fiddling her hands, Laelia could feel the knot in her stomach pull so tight it was about to snap. She had the choice. "Let's go."

Bianca's face lit up, fingers tightening around Laelia's. "Let's go! I know a secret corridor, we can get out of here without taking the stairs. Lorenzo's father won't see us!" And off she raced, pulling Laelia with her, skirts flying and heart racing in her throat.

She had made a choice.

__________________________________

The Medici Palace was a labyrinth, marble corridors seeming to stretch endlessly only to suddenly twist and turn and split into three, the empty eyes of gold framed oil paintings seeming to flicker after the girls in the candlelight. 

Bianca marched ahead, babbling about how Gio had started to work for them. "So, my brothers and father were at the church square in Siena, watching the horse race. My brother Giuliano actually competed! He's really good! You should go some day! And there was a betting booth, and suddenly this man appears, all black, in the middle of summer, and just announced they were being tricked. And then he starts rambling about numbers and I think only my father really got it and then he disappeared! But my father couldn't stop thinking about it, because even he hadn't noticed the numbers were off, so he had our spies look for him, but they all swore they hadn't even seen him and yet they had notes stuck to their backs! Like schoolboys," Bianca giggled.

Bianca took a deep breath, like a swimmer about to dive to the bottom of a lake. "But papa really wanted him, so he found out where he lived and sent a messenger every day. Mama said he was just playing with papa, he always planned on working for us, which is why I think he has some other reason. I mean, there's lots of banks in Florence! But he kept saying no. Papa was going a bit crazy. My brothers said he was crazy." Bianca laughed.

Laelia wondered how she still had breath to laugh after that ramble. That had to be more words than Alessandro had spoken this entire year. "That ... does sound like Gio."

But why did he want to work for the Medici... he was smart and rich enough to stick with his own bank. So there had to be some other reason... what could the Medici offer that he couldn't take for himself? It wasn't the noble name, the Medici were common folk. And he had declined Bianca's hand in marriage.

Maybe he was a bastard? Laelia squinted at Bianca. They both had legs. And two arms. A head. But apart from that they couldn't have been more different.

And his skin was far too dark. The first time Laelia's chaperone had seen him, she had gasped and scolded Laelia for befriending a blackamoor. Even when Laelia had quickly corrected that he was from Rome and his family from Crete, she had tugged Laelia away, mumbling about thieves and heathens.

"I think he found it amusing. He made my father court him like a fickle lady!" Bianca stopped, turning back to grin at Laelia. "We're here."

Laelia had been so absorbed in her thoughts about what Giacinto was hiding,she hadn't realized they had reached a patio, walled in from all four sides by the palace. No, not a patio. A lake. The entirety of the patio was water, a silver mirror in the moonlight. A giant pavilion towered in the middle, its walls strangely bumpy. Laelia jumped. The walls were moving. 

An assassin. They shouldn't have left, they had to run –

Bianca squeezed her hand. "It's just the roses," she whispered.

Laelia's heart still drummed against her throat. "The roses?"

Bianca hummed, pulling Laelia out onto the small bridge arching across the pond to the pavilion. A cool breeze ghosted around them, suddenly filling Laelia's nose with the heavy, sweet scent of a thousand roses. They were covering the entire pavilion and what she had thought was a wrought iron railing on the bridge was in reality dozens of rose stems, twisted and twirled into the shape of a handrail. Their heads bobbed in the breeze, as if greeting them.

"They're all red, that's why it's called the red pavilion."

"It's so pretty," Laelia whispered in awe. A petal floated down, sending ripples across the liquid silver of the pond.

"When my father was first introduced to my mother, she didn't expect him to be ... nice, I guess, he is ... was ten years older. Their families had decided the engagement. She didn't talk to him at all during the banquet, so he wrote on snippets of parchment and passed them to her all the time. Mama said she was half annoyed, half moved. She didn't answer though. She told me she was scared she'd soon have to go with him. She didn't want to leave home."

Something nervous fluttered in Laelia's chest. She'd have to leave her family soon, too. She was supposed to marry Antonio next year. She didn't even know the man he had become. But at least she would get to stay in Venice. Bianca's mother had left home miles and miles behind her.

Bianca hopped off the bridge, holding the door to the pavilion open for Laelia. "He bribed a servant to tell him what her favourite flowers were. Roses. Then he built her the pavilion, so she wouldn't feel sad when she'd leave her family for Florence."

Laelia stepped inside, marvelling at the room opening up around them. The hem of their dresses whispered over the black marble floor, golden veins twisting like frozen snakes. It was a library. Not the scientific, dark library of the Lady Medici's laboratory, filled with bones and poison soaked pages, but just ... a normal library. The shelves were round, reaching up to the vaulted ceiling like a dozen columns. Big, floor-length windows looked over the pond, the moonlight drowning in the pond reflected onto the pavilion's ceiling in lazy ripples. 

"He must have really loved her," she whispered.

"He did." Bianca swallowed, wiping at her eyes. "But she didn't come here after he... you know."

"But she knows he loved her. I think ... if my father died, I'd have to ask my mother whether it was her."

Bianca sighed, plopping down in a big, velvet armchair, black dress fanning our around her. She tugged the black veil off her head, tossing it behind her. "She really hates him, huh? Mama told me, but I thought she was exaggerating. She's a bit dramatic."

"I wouldn't have noticed," Laelia tried a grin. "Well, I mean, I like her, I –"

Bianca laughed, waving her hand. "Don't. Say what you want. Friends don't need politeness." She wrinkled her lips as if tasting her own poisons.

"Friends..."

"Friends." Bianca's eyes widened. "Silly me! Almost forgot why we came here!" She jumped up again, dragging Laelia through the rows of book-columns, stopping at the far wall in front of a painting. It was huge, stretching almost up to the ceiling. Laelia squinted, trying to make out the shapes in the black and white of the moonlight. When a flame sparked to life in the oil basin next to the painting, she forgot how to breathe.

The frame was heavy gold, carved into the twisting shapes of spiders and snakes hiding and slithering around thick leaves. They seemed alive in the flickering light, the legs of the spiders so thin, the eyes of the snakes so shiny, Laelia wondered if they had maybe been alive, sealed in gold for eternity.

Her gaze followed the light reflected on the oil paint across the canvas. She was looking at herself.

No. Not herself. Her mother.

Two women, arms linked, gazed over their heads into eternal nothingness. They were pale as marble, hair black as the night, eyes dark, glinting steel. But they were smiling.

Laelia recognized her mother immediately, the thin lips and sharp cheekbones Laelia had always envied. She looked regal, in a dress blue as the night at the witching hour, speckled with diamonds shaped into constellations across her corset. A diadem Laelia recognized from her mother's bedroom glinted like a slice of the moon in her dark hair. Laelia had never seen her wear it.

The girl beside her was clearly the Lady Medici, though much younger than now, her features softer, lips not yet stained in the bloody red Laelia had come to associate with her. She was smaller than Laelia's mother. Her dress was as extravagant as always though, giant skirts trailing behind her in the grey of a winter storm, darkening at her torso, silver threads shooting through the fabric like lightning. She wore no crown like Laelia's mother, but silver lightning rods had been woven around her head, spiking up like horns.

Laelia could make out heavy curtains and a giant column behind them. It wasn't an Italian castle. "That's ... that's a court portrait."

"Hmm," Bianca hummed, staring up at the two women. "They lived together for many years."

"Back in ... Romania?" Laelia's mother was from Wallachia. The patterns in the curtain ...

"Yes. Mama says its their last portrait together, a few weeks before your mother had to go to Venice to marry your father."

"But your mother is Italian. How is she in Romania?"

"They met when they were just little girls. Your mother was sent to Italy for her education, since she was supposed to marry an Italian nobleman."

That much wasn't unusual. Many eastern women were married to Italian nobles. Her mother was an illegitimate child, but still the daughter of a ruler. The Contarini were one of Venice's most powerful families. It was a good match. Except for the part where they hated each other.

"She was sent to my grandmother's sister to study Italian custums. Mama, too. So they grew up together. When your mother went back to Romania, they visited as often as they could, and wrote letters when they couldn't."

Laelia nodded. Her mother hadn't told her much, she rarely talked of her time before Venice, but she knew her mother and the Lady Medici were like sisters. Laelia had even been given the Lady Medici's name as her middle name. Lucrezia. And she knew Bianca was Bianca Anastasiya, after her mother.

But why did they never visit now?

Bianca pointed at the bottom of the frame, a small inscription chiselled onto an oak leaf. "Vaduva Neagra si Cobra Regala."

"That's Romanian! The Black Widow and the King Cobra."

Bianca nodded. "That's what your mother's family called them, because of their ... affinity for poison."

"... who was who?"

"Your mother is the black widow. Mama is the king cobra."

Laelia suddenly remembered the Lady Medici's collar today, fanning out around her head like the hood of a black cobra. There was still some link between them, even all these years later...

"The servants said men would disappear around them. I think half the reason your mother had to marry so soon was becasue the whole castle was spooked by them."

And her mother hated Laelia's father for it. The black widow and the king cobra ... it was almost a self-fulfilling prophecy. One would crown a king. One would kill him.

Maybe she had sensed Laelia's troubled mind, because Bianca led them away from the portrait. "Have you ever been to Wallachia?"

Laelia shook her head, sinking back into one of the armchairs. Maybe she could hide here forever. "Mama's half brother Vlad is ruler now. She went to his coronation. I was too young to travel all the way. But she brought me local herbs!"

Bianca jumped onto the opposite chair, kicking off her silken slippers. She leant forward, an excited glint in her eyes. "Mama went too! I know they kept writing letters, but I didn't know they still met! Your father never liked mama around your mother, he said two of them around him would be a death wish."

Laelia didn't know what to do with that. She didn't know what to think at all. Her father fought with her mother, shouts echoing up and down the hallways of the entire palazzo, but he wouldn't forbid her from seeing her best friend. ... Would he? Her heart sank. She didn't know her own family.

He was, when not around her mother, a surprisingly soft man. He knew how to wield power, but he was also helpless around Laelia's puppy eyes. She could charm him into getting her anything. And contrary to Lorenzo's father, he'd not really minded Zo. He braids your hair prettily, he had just said and went back to the documents piled on his desk. Or maybe he was just worried she'd put poison in his amaretto if he talked badly about Zo.

It was a reasonable fear. When she was six, she had wanted to poison Lorenzo's father for making him cry. Her mother had been proud and promptly suggested arsenic. Her father had almost lost his mind.

"Nonono, you're not allowed to get sad again! And I have no more chocolate swans to bribe you with!" Bianca looked at her with wide eyes. "Poison. Poison is fun. What's your favourite poison?"

"Belladonna. Mother says I'm her Belladonna."

"Sneaky. She could just be calling you a pretty woman, or a deadly poison. I like it! Mine is lead. It'll make it seem like the person just ... slowly went insane. Who asks questions if a maniac drops dead?" Bianca grinned. "Mama said you made darts?"

"Needles." Laelia fiddled with the hem of her sleeves. "I don't know how to fight like Gio and Sandro and Zo. But I know embroidery, so I can handle a needle." She tugged one loose, letting it clatter onto the small table between them. It glinted in the candlelight.

Bianca leant forward to inspect the needle, eyes wide with wonder. "That's so smart! But why are they thick at one end?"

"So I can grip them better. It was your mother's idea. Like this, I can throw them, or use them as darts in my crossbow."

"You ... are the most awesomest lady I know. Are you absolutely sure you have to marry that Morosini boy? I have two brothers. You can be my sister in law!"

Feeling her cheeks turn red, Laelia quickly glanced away. "That's not a real word." But she couldn't hide her grin.

"Very most awesomest." Bianca jumped up, dragging a treasure chest from behind their armchairs. "Come on! I promised we would check for possible poisoners helping the Reaper."

Laelia tried to peek at the shadowed contents of the chest. She could make out stacks of letters, bound together with silk thread. A cloud of dust tickled her nose when Bianca rummaged through them. "The red ones are letters from my papa. The blue ones are your mother's," she explained at Laelia's curious glance.

"Hah! Knew it." She held up a heavy-looking book, the leather cover glinting and shifting strangely. Snake-skin. "Mama keeps a register of ... useful people. Or people to keep track of. Any poisoner who can blend puffer-fish toxins that precisely has to be in there." She cracked it open, the parchment whispering when she flipped through the worn pages.

Memories squeezed Laelia's heart. It smelled like Antonio. Old parchment and crisp ink.

Bianca paused. "That ... that's not right." She shoved the book at Laelia.

The pages were thick parchment, yellowed by age, filled with rows and rows of tiny names and notes in sharp strokes of ink, like little soldiers standing at attention. There was a small splatter of ink at the bottom of the page. "What's wrong?" It was just an old notebook.

"The pages are cut out!" Bianca thrust her index at the middle of the book, where the pages parted.

Laelia squinted. How... Bianca was right. Someone had cut out several pages with surgeon-like precision, so close to the binding that it was barely noticeable. "But – who would do that?"

"That's the pages about the poisoners. All of them." Bianca looked at her in confusion. "If it were just one page, that would narrow it down, but like this, it could be anyone!"

Laelia had a dark feeling that was exactly what the intention had been. But ... who would know about this book other than the Lady and Bianca? Bianca had been as shocked as Laelia. But why would the Lady destroy her own book? What – who was she hiding?

It couldn't be her ... right? But she was one of the best poisoners Laelia knew. She sighed, rubbing her temples. Why couldn't she be as smart as Alessandro? He would know what to do, what to ask –

The room exploded.

For the first second, when Laelia whipped around, breath suddenly stuck in her throat, it was beautiful. The giant window shattered, glass shards spraying down, and for a second, when their edges caught the silver light, it looked like a million tiny crescent moons rained down before them.

But then the men came.

Like creatures of the night they appeared suddenly, pouring in from through the jagged edges of the broken window, in perfect rows, the tiny moons ground to dust under heavy boots. Laelia grabbed Bianca's hand and ran.

"That's not the way out!" Bianca cried, yanking at Laelia's arm, but Laelia pulled harder, dragging the girl behind her. She could hear the thundering steps behind them. They wouldn't get out in time anyways.

But they could get a wall at their back. At least they wouldn't be surrounded.

They came to a slipping halt before their mothers' portrait, Laelia pushing Bianca behind her. The men arrived a second later, daggers drawn. Laelia's heart jumped, missing a beat when Bianca's nails dug into her arm. She could almost feel the portrait's disappointed stare stabbing at her back. Her mother would never have been this stupid.

No. Her mother wouldn't have been that helpless.

She should have listened to Gio.

Why weren't the men moving?

Like a circle of wolves they stood around them, but no one moved.

"They're too organized," Bianca whispered.

She was right, Laelia realized. They knew each other. This wasn't a random bunch of assassins paid to work together for one night. Mercenaries.

How had they gotten in? The guards had been doubled after Piero's death and doubled again just for this party.

They had help from the inside.

Laelia slipped her finger under the hem of her sleeve, the cool metal of her needles against her fingertips sending a spark of hope through her. She had fought the Reaper before.

But that had been one man, not a dozen, caught off guard, not prepared and watching their every move.

"What do you want?" Bianca pushed out from behind Laelia, jutting out her chin. Laelia could see her pulse stutter against her throat. The girl wasn't even wearing her silken slippers, the tips of her toes peaking out from her giant skirts.

The men didn't reply.

"If you wanted us dead, you would've done that by now. So what do you want?" Bianca grit her teeth. Now she really reminded Laelia of her mother.

A man with a mean scar twisting his cheek and a thin beard stepped towards them. Laelia jumped, quickly trying to hide the panic boiling in her chest. She had a feeling these men could smell fear like dogs. He didn't come any closer, drawing a crossbow from his back, nocking an arrow and aiming it straight at her throat.

He wouldn't miss from that distance.

"The men. Where are they?" He asked. Even his voice sounded mean. Ugly and mean.

"I don't know."

"That's unfortunate."

"Certainly."

The man's lips twisted into a sneer. "Where are they? Now. "

Before Laelia could answer, Bianca jumped in. "She really doesn't know! We're just two girls. Who would tell us anything. We just came here to read poetry." She batted her lashes.

"Shut up." The man turned back to Laelia. "Where are they? Last chance. I won't miss."

"She can't talk with her throat pierced, you buffoon," Bianca snapped.

A ripple moved through the men, hands tightening on the hilts of their daggers, eyes narrowing, zeroing in on them. Laelia's heart was trying to jump out her chest and flee. But she couldn't be scared. She had to hold them off, maybe someone would notice they were missing, the guards would come –

"She can if it's yours," the leader moved the crossbow, pointing it at Bianca. He caught Laelia's gasp, a victorious glint entering his eyes. "Now, Signorina, please."

"I really don't know," Laelia whispered, thoughts racing. She could hit him with her dart. But not before he would pull the trigger. She couldn't risk Bianca.

"Now that," the man faked a smile, "is truly unfortunate."

This time, Laelia didn't have a witty reply.

He nodded at his men. Two broke formation, Laelia pushed Bianca away, but they were stronger, shoving her aside when she threw herself at them, yanking Bianca away between them.

"No!" Laelia screamed. "Don't hurt her! She doesn't know!"

Two large hands seized her, lifting her off the ground, heavy fingers digging into her waist, her feeting kicking empty air. Laelia knocked her head back, almost crying out when the back of her skull cracked against something dull. The man shouted. But he let go.

She twisted, pain stabbing up her ankle when she scrambled away, slipping on the smooth marble. She fell. Weight crashed over her. Bianca was screaming her name. Hands pushed into her hair, yanking so hard tears stung at the corners of her eyes. Laelia went limp.

Playing dead worked for many animals, after all. They obviously wanted her alive. Maybe she could shock them enough to gain a few seconds.

The needle was cold between her fingertips.

Fast, she'd have to be fast.

The weight disappeared, fingers searching her throat for a pulse.

Laelia twisted around, threw her arm up, the needle glinting like a fang. There was a sudden resistance when it hit his skin, then suddenly giving way under the razor-sharp point. A single drop of blood dripped down. Laelia wanted to vomit.

Nothing happened.

The slap whipped her head around, cheek cracking against the marble. The man cursed, yanking her to her feet.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Laelia whispered.

He paused. Something about her expression must have startled him.

"Your heartrate will go up." Laelia forced the panic down. She couldn't see Bianca. "Three... two..."

The man blanched. Their leader shouted something, the men suddenly drawing back, widening their circle around her as if she had caught fire.

"One." When Laelia's whisper had faded into the shadows, the man crumpled at her feet. She turned to face the others, fingers tightening around another needle.

She could see the men hesitating. They could overpower her, but some would go down with her.

But their leader had an iron fist around them. "It's the Reaper or the girl."

They closed back in. He nodded at the man still restraining Bianca, and they dragged her over to him. He reached out, a wicked gleam catching on the curve blade of a small knife. A second before it grazed her cheek, a hunting knife appeared in her hand, plunging into the thigh of the man holding her. Her scream was louder than his when blood sprayed her hands. But they were stronger, and she no longer had surprise on her side. She kicked and clawed, until they slammed her head against one of the shelf-columns, once twice, until her eyes glazed over and blood trickled down her hairline.

Laelia couldn't to more than scream and beg – no one was getting anywhere near her, but she couldn't risk hitting Bianca in the chaos if she threw her needle.

Bianca crumpled at his feet. Something wet streamed down Laelia's face and she only realized she was crying when she checked for blood. This was her fault. She should've insisted they stay back at the salon.

"What do you want?" She whispered. "Please, what do you want?"

"I told you."

"I don't know where they are, I swear, I don't know!"

"My men saw the small one talking to you before he disappeared."

Laelia shook her head, desperate, glancing back and forth between his knife and Bianca. She wasn't moving. "He told me to stay away, I don't know, I don't –"

The man grinned. It wasn't like Gio's grin, a little sharp and a little mischievous, it was ugly and too broad. "Look at that. And you didn't listen."

Laelia hung her head. She couldn't even taste the salt in the tears dripping over her lips, a cold, heavy numbness spreading over her.

"Start thinking. This one can't run away anymore." He nudged Bianca with his boot.

But Laelia didn't even know where to start thinking.

The man nodded again, and the two men yanked Bianca back to her feet. The slap cracked through Laelia's sobs like a whip. Bianca gasped, jerking awake with a gasp. Laelia wanted to crumble with relief. She was alright. She was alright.

One of them held a knife at Bianca's throat. The leader looked back at Laelia. "You have a minute. She has ten fingers. Ten minutes total."

"I don't know." The panic snapped. Her eyes were glued to the hungry edge of his knife. Finger bones were weak. He could them off if he wanted to. Laelia would never be able to get there in time. "I don't know, please, I don't know." Her voice cracked.

"But I do." The voice was cold and still as a lake of ice. One wrong step and it would crack beneath her feet, plunging her into dark, deadly waters.

Every head turned, like puppets on invisible strings. A long shadow fell from the crashed window, for a second, Laelia thought she had passed out and was dreaming. Even the candles seemed to flicker nervously when the Lady Medici smiled at them. Behind her stood a wall of black. Medici guards.

Her legs suddenly buckled with relief, the room seeming to sway around them. Someone had found them.

Laelia remembered the chill chasing down her back when she had heard the Medici guards' motto – fide ultra mortem, with loyalty, beyond death. Her mind raced. There were just three of them, faces carved from stone, eyes sharp as polished metal, trained onto the mercenaries like hunting dogs about to tear into a pack of wolves. But three of them might be enough.

The leader of the mercenaries turned to face them. The Lady smiled at him and Laelia had the sudden impression she was imagining clawing his throat out with her bare hands. "I know," the Lady repeated.

Before Giacinto had left with Alessandro, Laelia had seen them talk to the Lady. But ... she wouldn't sell them out, would she? The panic rose again. They couldn't betray Gio and Sandro, the two of them would have no chance, the palace was still crawling with assassins, plus the mercenaries, and the Reaper was still out there too –

"Then I'm sure we can come to an agreement. Your daughter for the boys."

"Two men." The Lady stepped closer, the mercenaries parting for her. She stepped into their ring without a trace of fear, facing the leader. "Two girls. I am a banker after all."

The man narrowed his eyes. His men whispered. Then he shrugged. "Sure. They're useless to him."

Him. The Reaper?

"Mother, no," Bianca rasped, eyes wide.

The Lady Medici raised her hand, resting it against the man's cheek, thumb brushing his cheek like a lover's caress. "Very well. You have a deal."

The man shifted, half cautious, half preening. Men. Bianca shook her head wildly, struggling against the men holding her back. "Mother, no, what are you doing!"

This couldn't be happening. Why weren't the guards fighting them, why was she offering Gio and Sandro's lives, she couldn't do this!

Laelia heard the suspicion in Alessandro's voice when he talked about the Lady. Could Giacinto have been wrong? Had she already betrayed them?

The Reaper normally doesn't use poison... Bianca's voice echoed in her head. He couldn't have created the complicated mixtures he had killed with. But the Lady Medici could have. Laelia thought she could feel her blood freezing in her veins.

"Let them go." The Lady Medici nodded at the men. They hesitated, but their leader jerked his chin and they stepped back immediately.

Laelia rushed to Bianca, squeezing the breath out of both of them in a desperate hug.

"Now talk, woman," the leader spat.

The Lady nodded, brushing her thumb across his cheekbone. "You need to go to..." she lowered her voice. The man leant closer. Into her touch. "...hell." She plunged her thumb into his eye.

The man screamed like Laelia had never heard a living being scream. 

The Lady moved her thumb, blood and liquids running down his cheek, her fingers, and pressed down, forcing the man to his knees.

His men surged forwards, freed from their shocked paralysis, but the guards met them like a wave of darkness, black coats billowing behind them. Bianca was screaming, Laelia hiding her face against her chest, trying to shield to girl from the horror around them.

A hundred mercenaries would not have been enough to stop the three guards. The three guards and the Lady Medici. Laelia and Bianca were trapped in the eye of the storm, around them chaos raged. The guards cut down anyone who looked at them, tearing through the men like demons. 

Bianca's screams had turned into sobs shaking her entire body. Laelia clutched her tighter, crying silently.

The leader was dying at their feet. Laelia wasn't sure whether he was still screaming or whether the screech was still echoing through her skull. The Lady tore a man's throat out with her bare hands, a set of clawed rings suddenly tipping her fingers, veins of blood streaking down the steel turning it into macabre marble.

Laelia gasped. She knew those claws. She had seen a matching set when sneaking into her mother's chambers. Who were these women?

And then it was silent.

A wet thud, like a bag of flour toplling over, a last man falling. A hiss of steel when the guards sheathed their swords, stone faces turning back to the Lady as they fell back into a perfect row, heels clicking in wordless salute.

Despite silent tears that wouldn't stop streaming down her cheeks, Laelia felt a pang of envy. These soldiers followed a woman. They respected her.

"Filth," the Lady spat, stepping onto a still chest as she approached the girls. Laelia clutched Bianca tighter. The hem of the Lady's black mourning dress was soaked red. It looked like it belonged there. "How rude, they shattered my window."

Laelia didn't dare look her in the eyes. Her daughter almost died because of Laelia's stupidity.

"They hurt you." Her expression softened and she lifted a clawed hand to brush it through Laelia's hair. "My girls."

Laelia jumped when the Lady wrapped both of them in a hug. "Breathe," the Lady whispered, fingers still combing through Laelia's hair like a mother putting her daughter to bed, not like a woman who had clawed men to death mere minutes ago. "Just breathe." But her breath trembled against Laelia's cheek, too.

Bianca choked out a sob.

Laelia pulled away, wiping her tears, sniffling in frustration when they wouldn't stop. How pitiful. "I'm sorry. It was my fault."

"Silly girl, it's not your fault," the Lady murmured, reaching out to squeeze Laelia's hand, her other arm still around her daughter.

Bianca shook her head forcefully. "It's not Lia's fault! She stalled them! She saved me, she played dead, she even took down one of them!" She thrust a hand towards the still figure in the middle of the room. Laelia refused to face him.

The Lady's face brightened in familiar pride. Her mother looked at her like that, too. "The needle? Brilliant, darling, brilliant."

"It's my fault." Bianca slipped free from her mother's hug, squaring her shoulders. The blood on her face had dried to rust, her eyes were puffed and red, but she stood straight. "I – Signore Marinos told us – "

"Silly girls." The Lady waved her hands. "That's not your fault. Giacinto, that bastard ... Women don't listen to orders. We listen to reason. He should have explained." She sighed. "Water under the bridge. Let's get you back."

"Not quite so fast." This time, the new voice truly turned Laelia into stone.

It pulled her back to the cathedral, desperately shoving herbs and charcoal through the dying boys already cold lips, ignoring the blood smeared on his thighs, ignoring Marius' cries as he rocked De Vito's limp body back and forth in his arms, ignoring Alessandro's desperate attempt to crack the riddle in time.

The Reaper.

He looked like death. The first time Laelia had seen him, he had been in disguise, wearing common clothes. Now when he stepped over the bodies of the fallen mercenaries, not even looking down at them for a second, his long black cloak whispered over puddles of blood, the long hood hiding his face in shadows. She could only see the outline of a smile.

The guards drew their swords stepping between them and the assassin.

They dropped like puppets.

Laelia couldn't even scream before they hit the ground. Arrows stuck from their backs.

Laelia whipped around, her heart dropping when she saw more assassins pour into the room from every corner.

"Quid pro quo," Luca smiled at the Lady. "You killed mine, I killed yours."

"Do not talk Latin with me, peasant boy." The Lady pushed the girls behind herself. Pure rage twisted her face. "You. You took Piero."

"Ah. Yes. Nothing personal."

"You'll find it personal enough when I tear out your heart." Her hands were shaking.

Laelia couldn't comprehend what she must be feeling right now. Her husband's murderer was smiling at her.

"You are not on my list. You may live. Step aside."

"I'll step aside when they're dragging your dead body out of here," the Lady snarled at the assassin.

The Reaper sighed. "So emotional, so stupid. Just step aside. I'll have to keep the little poisoner. Can't fish without my bait. But you can keep your daughter. Save her."

Bait. What bait. Who was supposed to come for her – oh no.

"If you think I am leaving Laelia with you filth, you're dumber than I thought."

"You don't want to save your daughter?" The Reaper tilted his head. "She looks a bit like Piero. Do you want to loose him again?"

The Lady closed her eyes. "I'm staying."

"I admired you. You're a capable killer. But now you're just ... disappointing."

"Please," Laelia whispered, trying to keep the tremble out of her voice. "Leave. I can't let you do this."

Bianca tightened her grip on the hunting knife next to Laelia. "I hunt boars. They're just another sort of pig." She cast a scathing look around the assassins circling them.

"He won't kill me, he needs me, but you –" Laelia pressed her lips together so she wouldn't start crying again.

"Kill them." The Reaper waved his hand, melting back into the shadows.

"At least fight me yourself, you coward!" The Lady Medici screamed into the darkness, claws glinting as they tore into the first man. "Take Bianca, run!"

"Mama!" Bianca struggled against Laelia, she had to throw all her weight against the girl to push her towards the wall, needles flying from her free hand like tiny comets sparking in the dark. Bianca tore free, rushing back towards her mother.

Laelia scrambled, tripping over a writhing body. Her hands slipped in warm blood when she tried to push herself up. A pair of boots appeared before her. She stilled, slowly looking up. A knife came down at her.

Her last thought was that this was wrong, they weren't supposed to kill her, they needed her –

A dagger shot into his throat, burying itself to the hilt. The man sputtered. Fell.

Giacinto.

The Greek stared down at her with burning eyes, extending a hand. He hauled her to her feet with shocking strength. He didn't say a word.

Fear knotted her throat. He looked furious.

A strong arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her against a warm side. Alessandro smiled down at her. Laelia sobbed with relief.

Someone clapped.

All fighting froze. When Laelia finally found the Lady and Bianca, she wanted to cry again. The assassin held daggers to both their throats.

The Reapers stepped out of the shadows. "Hyakinthos."

"Luca." Giacinto rolled his shoulders. A panther about to pounce.

"You didn't really think I didn't know you two were all cozy in that confessional, did you?"

Laelia felt Alessandro stiffen at her side. Giacinto grit his teeth. "Does it matter?"

"No. But it'll make him feel so much worse." The Reaper pointed a dagger at Alessandro. "I'll greatly enjoy that."

Laelia gasped. It was the same dagger Giacinto held.

Just what was going on?

"Inspector Steno, I should thank you. I would never have found De Vito's hints. But you were so kind to bring me the letters, weren't you?"

"What letters?" Laelia whispered. Alessandro didn't answer. When she looked up, his face was white as chalk.

"I just needed to trust in the little poisoner making the wrong choice to leave the salon. Let you catch one of my men... of course you'd rush right here to save the little damsel in distress ..."

Alessandro closed his eyes. He cursed in a language she didn't understand.

"Now, please, this has gotten far too messy. Hand me the letters. The Medici and your girl will live."

"Why would I believe you?" Alessandro growled.

"He always keeps his word," Giacinto whispered.

Alessandro's hand tightened on Laelia's waits. "Giacinto. No."

"Sorry, giant." The corners of Giacinto's eyes crinkled with a guilty smile. "I promised Antonio I'd bring her home." He pulled a stack of letters from his jacket.

The Reaper laughed so hard Laelia thought his thin figure might crumble into a pile of bones. Maybe he was a cursed skeleton.

"Hyakinthos. I'm hurt."

"You don't know how to be hurt. Let them go. I'll give you the letters."

The Reaper's smile disappeared in a spilt second, face turning cold. It was unsettling how fast he switched masks. "Boy, do not think you can fool me. You put on a great act, really. Very moving. But I know you. You're the best thief out there. You switched them. Inspector, if you please."

Giacinto threw up his hands in defeat. "Steno. Letters. Now."

Laelia whipped her head back to Alessandro. "Don't! You worked so hard for this! We can hold out a bit longer, the guards will find us –"

"No," he shook his head softly, drawing a heavy stack of letters from his waistcoat. "I'm not risking you."

The Reaper jerked his head. One of the assassins rushed over, snatching the letters from Alessandro's hand. For a second, Laelia thought he looked Alessandro in fear.

The assassin retreated, holding the parchment out to the Reaper like an offering.

When the Reaper's fingers closed around the papers, Laelia sagged in Alessandro's arms.

All of it, for nothing. De Vito had died for nothing. Guido, the poor boy back in Venice, slowly suffocating for nothing. Iacobo, her friend, the painter, the agent of the order, burned in a sea of flowers for nothing.

They had lost.

They had given everything, sacrificed everything, and they had still lost.

Laelia wanted to cry, but there were no more tears left. She wanted to go home. She wanted to wake up.

"Let them go," Giacinto grit.

The Reaper waved his hand, the assassins stepping back immediately. All but one, digging his knife harder into the Lady's throat. She sputtered, but her eyes still blazed with rage.

A second later a tiny knife stuck between his eyes. He blinked. Dropped like a puppet with cut strings. "Really. I have rules." The Reaper lowered his hand, glancing at the other assassins. "I keep my word. Are we all done? Lovely. This is getting tiring."

The Lady glared at him, but stayed put, hugging Bianca closely to her side. Laelia suspected if she wouldn't have to protect her daughter, she would fight the Reaper until there was nothign left of her.

"You're free to go." The Reaper turned away from the Medici, facing her and Alessandro. "You too, little poisoner. The boys have to stay." He sighed, as if all the talking bothered him greatly. "My apologies, I'm supposed to kill you, Inspector. And Hyakinthos, well... he's too dangerous to let go. And I thought I'd make him watch."

"You're sick," Alessandro spat, but slowly pulled his arm away from Laelia. He nudged her towards the Lady.

"So I have been told." The Reaper nodded. "Or maybe you're just weak."

Laelia reached back for Alessandro. "I'm not leaving you!"

He smoothly stepped out of her reach. Laelia's heart shattered.

Giacinto drew a second dagger. "Lia. Go."

"No!" Laelia turned back and forth between the two. "You have to – I won't – please!"

But then the Lady looked at her. "Laelia, let the men settle this." She glanced at the candleholder, back at her, back at the flames.

The Lady would never let men settle anything for her...

Laelia hid that tiny glimmer of hope deep, deep down. She raised her chin. When she passed the Reaper, his cool glance following her for a second, she forgot she believed in no god and prayed to everyone who would listen. He had to mistake her nervousness for fear. She just had to get to the Lady. Just one more step.

The Lady's hand was warm on her arm, squeezing reassuringly as she lead the girls away. Laelia's fear threatened to boil over with every step she took further away from Alessandro and Giacinto. What if she had misread the Lady's glance? What if she had been tricked? What if –

She hadn't seen where she got it from, but in the blink of an eye, a tiny glass jar appeared in the Lady's gloved hand. She turned back to where the men were half hidden behind the book-columns. "Run when you hear it hit the ground. Not a second earlier. They mustn't hear you." She weighed the jar in her hand. A light blue-green liquid sloshed inside.

Bianca searched for Laelia's eyes, nodding.

"I hope you burn." The Lady's smile didn't reach her eyes when she hurled the jar back at the assassins.

Glass burst against marble. Bianca yanked her out of the pavilion, cold air rushing to greet them as they raced for the bridge. 

Laelia craned her neck, almost tripping over her own feet, stumbling, hoping she would catch aglimpse of Gio and Sandro getting out. But the last thing she saw was Alessandroleaping, tackling Giacinto to the ground, shielding him with his own body as awave of blue fire roared over them.

Well, that escalated quickly. 

What do you think about the Lady and Laelia's mother? I was very excited about introducing their past.

I hope you still liked it, even if it got a bit brutal. And I hope you like Bianca! She (and her mother, of course) are real historical characters, so writing them was a challenge.

Next chapter has an unexpected kiss to make up for all the chaos in this one!

Thank you so much for your support, I hope you're all well and had some wonderful holidays!

PS: Yes, Laelia's uncle Vlad is Vlad Tepes, later known as Dracula. Most characters in this story actually are based on historic figures. (Antonio was a real Venetian chronicler.)

PPS: Thank you so much for your patience and waiting for The Mosaic to continue. I had some health issues with many doctor visits on top of a brutal university semester and couldn't write during that time. I can't thank you enough for all your patience and support, you guys are the best!