My next hurdle is Veronica. She’s at the far end of the room, locked in what sounds more like an argument than a conversation with Martino. My shopping-list Italian is expanding by the day – enough to pick up on Martino complaining that Silvia doesn’t understand his vision for the school, but not enough to follow the whole thread.
I cough lightly to catch her attention, then ham it up so it sounds like I might actually be ill.
‘Evie!’ Her smile is a little too bright. ‘You’re not well?’
I mumble something about a headache, then grab my bag and follow Leo’s directions across the ground floor: archway on the left, past the carved stone thing in the middle of the courtyard, which I’m hoping is a wellhead. From there, another corridor opens up, and lowered voices carry along the tiles. One of them is Leo’s. The other I recognize just as quickly.
Jacopo.
They’re in a shadowy little vestibule at the end of the passage.
‘What’s going on?’
‘He wants to come,’ Leo says.
‘He doesn’t want me to come,’ Jacopo counters.
At this rate my fake headache’s going to be real. ‘Come where exactly?’
Jacopo’s grin is pure mischief as he swings open the door behind him. Cool night air rushes in, carrying the faint lap of water. And there it is – a real live gondola floating outside. OK, so notalivealive – but still. Wow.
Jacopo puffs up with pride. ‘It’s my dad’s. I can row it for you. Give you the full romantic experience. You won’t even know I’m there.’
Yeah, right. ‘Why don’t you swap with Leo instead?’
‘So Leo rows and you and I …?’
‘No!’ I press my fingers to my temples. ‘I mean, take Leo’s costume and go and enjoy the party.’
Jacopo scowls. ‘This is my thanks for bringing you together?’
Leo and I exchange a look.
‘Nadia’s upstairs,’ I try. ‘She’s wearing a dress that makes a statement about recycling.’
Jacopo brightens instantly. ‘Bon!This I want to see.’
He snatches Leo’s robe and mask and disappears in a swirl of velvet.
Leo watches him go. ‘What’s that all about?’
I smile. ‘Just a hunch.’
Getting into the gondola is not a graceful process. Not in this dress. I can’t even see my feet, let alone work out where to put them. I’m in danger of becoming an actual kelpie, sinking to the watery depths, but if these skirts get waterlogged, I’ll need a crane to haul me out.
Somehow, we manage. I tuck myself into the red velvet loveseat at the back, close to where Leo takes the oar. A little brass lantern glows at the prow, making the gold trim glint.
It’s the wee hours of the morning now. Shuttered windows, empty streets and black water. I don’t know if we’re silent because everything else is, or if there’s just too much to say. Until he appeared beside me at the ball, I hadn’t seen Leo since I froze him out and stomped off with Jacopo to get my dress.
I’ve had hours to replay my reaction to his confession. None of it looks great from my side. And there’s nothing to hide behind now.
No masks. No personas. Just me. Just him. It’s terrifying … but I don’t want it to stop, because this isthe first time we’ve really been ourselves, more than we have been with anyone else. Ever.
A wide stone bridge arches low ahead and Leo adjusts his grip on the oar, steering us towards it at an angle that makes no sense at all.
The curved metal at the front of the gondola flashes in the dark as the bow swings. The boat rocks, wood creaking as we start to slide under the bridge. I squeeze my eyes shut.
There’s a dull thud beside me, close enough to make me flinch.
