Page 112 of A Dangerous Bargain

The one he wouldn’t tell me about.

I gasp, iron thick in my mouth.

Lupa’s burning gaze flickers, almost guilty. “You remember the price, do you not?”

Leonardo shudders. He cradles me closer, sweeps the matted hair from my brow with a long, lingering touch. “Yes. The memory of the person I love for their life.”

I don’t understand for a moment.

And then I do.

A blow of anguish follows the knowing, cutting deeper than my mortal wound. “You’ll forget me.”

He kisses my brow fiercely, making a broken noise that I feel everywhere. “Yes, but you’ll live.”

I comforted myself imagining his future, a glorious long life without me.

Never for a single moment did I consider living without him.

I’m not ready for it. What if I let this final gift of his sail past me? What if I don’t make enough of it?

A cough punches through me—and something in my side crumples. I twist, gasping for air. The sounds and smells of the room fade. Charred linen, the soft low keen of my name over and over again, a wonderfully hot hand on my cold face. I want to catch those longer fingers in mine, press the heat closer, but I can’t move.

“I can’t feel his pulse!” The voice is frantic, near. But still so distant, it could be the wind whispering through the empty workshop. I reach toward it, a golden ribbon in the dark, but it slips through my fingers.

“Give him to me.”

A mouth bruises my throat, a rose-sharp kiss. I gasp at the pain of it. “If you find a human who doesn’t mind…” I feel a smile on my skin. “Don’t forget about the second vial.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

I wake up in silence.

Actually no, not quite. There are pigeons on the windowsill, their cooing noises coming in through the glass. And sunlight. I blink into the brightness, wondering if something went wrong and I’m dead after all.

A soft gasp brings me back to the present.

Leonardo da Vinci crouches on the floor, covered in blood, his eyes wide like he’s seen a ghost or a minotaur or one of those frightening baby Jesus paintings where the holy infant looks like a middle-aged man with spider hands.

“Sorry,” he whispers. “I didn’t see you there.”

My eyes burn. It’s the very first thing he said to me, all those years ago, when he was just a too-handsome, too-bright new apprentice, and I was a storm cloud of a boy who had no idea that the love of his life had just walked into the workshop to set his world ablaze.

He takes in the rest of me, breathing unsteadily. “Did you know you’re covered in blood?”

I drag a hand across my chest, feeling the edges of the rip in my shirt and the puckered new scar on my ribs beneath it. “Yes. I think I’ll be all right, though.”

He nods, the movement fast and jerky. “Good! That’s good. I, uh—”

“Didn’t need to deal with a stranger’s corpse on the strangest day of your life?” I say dryly.

The tiny divot I love appears between his brow, there and gone so fast, I barely catch it. I probably shouldn’t tease him. I have no idea how his memories have rearranged themselves, how his mind could rewrite the past day or years without me being in them. I don’t want to drive him mad.

At least not with this.

“Sorry.” He apologizes again. “My memory is a bit muddled.”

The corners of my mouth kick up. “I understand.”