"No, thank you," Giovanna said, standing to rebuke the procurator's son eye-to-eye as much as to stretch her cramped legs. "We're quite capable without—"

"Ignore her," Dilara interrupted, jumping to attention and nearly knocking her out of the way. "We need all the help you will offer. What's the plan?"

Matteo grinned, even as Giovanna rolled her eyes and turned away.

She wanted to think that her reaction was because she considered him insufferable, but that was a lie. In reality, every moment she spent looking at his handsome face brought her closer to forgetting how much he'd hurt her. But that couldn't happen again. Because if she wavered and risked her heart once more, he'd likely trample it to a bloody pulp. That's certainly how it felt even as it continued to beat faster and faster in her chest in his presence.

A sharp whistle made her turn back, just in time to see a couple round the corner. Darkness was falling fast, but as they neared, their features became clearer. The young man with the chin-length, tousled hair and an equally carefree gait was definitely of noble birth by the looks of his clothes and the weapon at his side. The masked lady on his arm—dressed in fine silks under her wool cloak—had a similar air about her. When they stopped in front of Matteo and exchanged familiar greetings, her suspicions were seemingly confirmed.

"I present to you: my plan," Matteo said, motioning toward the newcomers. "Don Simone Falier has graciously allowed his bride-to-be to assist with a simple, but brilliant deception."

"Don Falier," Giovanna said with a courteous bow of her head.

"Call me Simone for we are both close confidants of this ruffian," he said, playfully slapping Matteo on the back. "And any friend of Matteo's is a friend of mine."

"We are not friends. We merely had an arrangement to provide mutual assistance to each other when no one else could. That is all," she snapped, wondering how much of their intimate relationship Matteo had shared with his bosom friend. From the sheepish grin on Simone's face, it was likely considerable.

"Oh? I must have been mistaken. Forgive me," Simone said, glancing at Matteo with a cocked brow as the other shrugged. Turning back to Giovanna, he continued. "So it is this arrangement that brings us here."

"Very well," Giovanna said with a resigned sigh. "Tell us what we are to do."

"You do nothing," Matteo spoke up again, stepping forward. "Clara here will bear the brunt of the work, but if it all goes well, it should be a seamless exchange of identities."

"How?" asked Dilara, drawing attention to herself for the first time since the couple's arrival.

Simone turned toward the girl almost obsessively clinging to his arm. "My dear?"

After removing her mouthless mask that made it impossible to speak, Clara smoothed out an errant lock that fell out of her crown of braids. Younger and smaller in stature than Giovanna, her eyes were ringed with signs of sleeplessness and her cheeks still bore pink blotches from crying.

"I am to seek refuge in the convent, having missed the last rowboat back to the main island before curfew," she said. "Once I am left alone with Ottavia, we will switch clothes and wait until an hour before sunrise. That is when Simone will demand that I be released to him, and Ottavia—in my guise—will leave with him unhindered. By the time the sun rises and the sisters discover the ruse of being left with the wrong girl, Ottavia will be safely on the Turks' ship."

"Good," Simone said with a smile, approvingly patting her hand.

Matteo's face displayed more worry as he puckered his lips in contemplation. "And if they ask why you were on Giudecca alone?" he asked, leaving nothing to chance.

Clara shook her head. "I would say I wasn't alone. I had accompanied Simone here, but he'd become so engrossed in a card game at the tavern that he'd forgotten about the time. As a lady who cared about her honor, I had no choice, but to turn to the sisters."

Giovanna also had a question. "How can you be sure that you will be roomed with Ottavia?"

Clara produced a weak smile, her delicate features finally relaxing. "She is the only other girl of noble birth my age there. Where else would they put a Delfini?"

A Delfini! Was this Tomaso Delfini's daughter? Giovanna tried to conceal her surprise by moderating her reaction at the revelation for this put the arrival of assistance into a whole new perspective. The willingness of one noble family to get involved in the personal affairs of another was less of a shock now that Clara's role had been brought to light. Naturally, the girl whose father's life currently hung on a thread would do anything to avenge the mastermind behind his attack. The fact that Nicco Grimani's downfall involved giving Ottavia her freedom was an added bonus.

"I pray that you are correct," Giovanna said before looking down the alley. At the far end, the lagoon's gently bobbing surface was just visible, reflecting the last rays of the setting sun. "Just a minute or two more and we shall see."

As Simone and Clara bid their private farewells to each other away from the group, Matteo huddled with the two girls behind the cart to watch for any movement within the convent. Apart from the lighting of candles behind the shutters to ward off the impending darkness, there was none.

"An hour before sunrise," Simone whispered after his beloved as she finally made her way across the alley to the convent's entrance. "Be ready, for we will not get another chance like this."

Glancing back, Clara nodded and put on her mask. At the door, her knocks went unheeded for an uncomfortable length of time, but once the nun behind the peep hole saw who was requesting safe harbor, she quickly allowed entry.

With a deep breath, Matteo turned and sat on the ground, leaning against the cart's wheel. "And now we wait."

Dilara on Giovanna's left and Simone on Matteo's right soon fell into a deep slumber, each resting their heads on their pulled up knees. Giovanna envied their ability to find respite even under such trying conditions. She couldn't imagine sleeping like this, but going anywhere with a proper bed right now only to return in a few hours risked the attention of the roaming patrols.

Instead, they huddled under their cloaks as the temperature dropped and the fog rolled in.

"As you know, I went to the prison this morning," Matteo said, breaking the eerie silence.

Giovanna stared into the distance, not allowing her eyes to focus on anything in particular. Of course she knew. Other than Ottavia's rescue, it was the only thing on her mind all day. Yet even now, she refused to acknowledge the statement. Before she did and until Matteo elaborated, Stefano was not a concern to her. He was either still locked away behind heavy steel bars or he had departed the living. Until she knew which was true, both could equally be real. And that meant, she didn't need to specifically feel guilty for either.

"Your husband is dead."

Before that moment, Giovanna didn't think words could physically hurt. But those four were like a gut punch, knocking the air out of her lungs. She doubled over and inhaled deep, trying to refill the lost breath, yet it was no use. As soon as the cool air flowed inside her body, she had the immediate urge to expel it. Her resulting gasps became quicker and shallower, taking less and less of the precious commodity to her lungs.

"Slow down!" Matteo demanded, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. "Take a long breath. Like this," he urged, calmly demonstrating the slow process. "Now, breathe out, like so."

Giovanna watched his example and did her best to follow it, silently struggling against her own body's urge to fight for each breath. It took several minutes, but she was finally able to get it under control.

"Thank you," she whispered, looking into his eyes as he still held her close. "I don't know why that happened."

He drew his arm away. "Grief can be inexplicable. And I am sorry for your loss," he said firmly.

She wanted say that while inexplicable, her reaction definitely wasn't caused by grief. Guilt? Probably. Relief? Certainly. Grief? Not a chance. But admitting it not just mentally to herself, but also out-loud to Matteo would solidify her status as a truly horrible person. And Giovanna wasn't strong enough right now to carry that burden. Not before she could do something extraordinary to erase the stain on her conscience. And only with the passing of this night would she get that chance.

But as she closed her eyes for a moment's respite, an ominous, guttural growl sounded out from nearby. Loud—and odd—enough to wake both Simone and Dilara, it sent a chill down Giovanna's spine. Slowly turning around, she stood and peeked over the cart. In the darkness, only the thick, white fog moved through the alley.

If anyone or anything was there, they wouldn't see it until it was too late.