Page 52 of A Dangerous Bargain

“Piero de’ Medici wouldn’t keep a portrait of a troublemaker in the Palazzo della Signoria, much less care enough to move it.” He doesn’t gentle his voice. It comes out the way he’d say anything else, like it’s a fact, and it’s unreasonable for me to argue with his facts, because he knows about a million more of them than I do.

I suck in a big breath, my fingers shifting under his. I ought to pull away, but I can’t bring myself to. “Niccolo’s older than me. Big fox and little fox… they’re our childhood nicknames. I used to hate it, because what kid wants to constantly be reminded that he’s younger and smaller than his brother? But when he called me little fox, I didn’t mind.”

Why am I telling him this? There are reasons I chose not to, but I can’t remember them anymore.

I feel Leonardo’s heartbeat in the center of his palm, star-warm and steady. “You looked up to him. He was your world.” His other hand lifts to my cheekbone, brushing away a rogue tear. When did I start sodding crying? He tilts my chin up, so I have no choice but to look at him.

“What happened between you two?” His hand is soft against my icy cheek. “I promise, I’m not trying to pry. I just want to understand.” His throat hitches when I say nothing. “You don’t have to tell me if you—”

My heart roars, even as my body freezes. “No, I do.”

He’s touching me. He’s cradling my face.

And I finally feel brave enough to spill the shameful story I’ve shared only once before, in the darkness of the confessional.

“My brother said he was leaving for a job that would buy Casa delle Volpi twice over. I didn’t trust the sound of that, so I begged him to take me with him. He took off his ring and asked me to keep it safe instead. He had to leave alone because I’d only slow him down.” The snow was sugaring the street, his red cloak the brightest thing in the world, and for the first time in our lives, my brother told me he didn’t need me. My breath stutters even remembering it.

“My brother was nothing like our father, but all I could hear was his voice, telling me I would never be enough. I knocked the ring aside and told him to go because I couldn’t stand the sight of him.” I’ll never forget the answering hurt on his face, how he lifted his arms helplessly and asked if I’d at least hug him goodbye, just in case something happened.

I turned away instead.

And Niccolo left, but not in anger.

He left crying. His hot tears still couldn’t thaw the ice in my chest. I didn’t go after him or take the words back.

A week later, he was missing. Only then did fear slide into my anger, chisel out a nice little hollow to fill with curdling shame.

My brother was gone, and I hadn’t hugged him goodbye when he’d begged me to. I’d turned my back on him instead. I’d made him cry. After all he’d done for me. This was how I treated the person I loved most.

I’m crying now. Big, ugly sobs that shake my bones.

I’m suddenly stumbling forward, a wall of warmth under my cheek. Leonardo has pulled me into an embrace so tight, it almost holds me together. He mutters a soothing stream of softness against my temple. Tender words I don’t deserve. I’m the boy with the heart of ice, and he’s the sun itself. I’ll freeze him out too if he gets too close.

“You were upset, Virgil,” he says. “Everyone makes mistakes when they’re frightened.”

“You wouldn’t. All you ever wanted was a sibling with your rust-gold hair.”

He squeezes me once, but doesn’t deny it. His fingers trace patterns on my back. A circle. A star. A shape that feels like the very first letter of my name. The motion makes my blood slow, my hands unclench. I can’t remember the last time anyone held me.

“What are you going to do after you find him?” Leonardo says abruptly.

“What?”

His face is sfumato through a gritty haze. “Sometimes when things feel awful, I imagine what happens next. For me, I’d like to open my own workshop. I’ve decided leaving Verrocchio’s doesn’t have to be a bad thing.”

My stomach knots strangely. Verrocchio’s won’t be the same without you.

Which yes, obviously. There are two dozen apprentices; people cycle in and out of the place all the time. Leonardo was always going to leave someday. But… I can’t imagine myself there without him.

You won’t even be there a year from now. This is a good thing. The best thing. He’ll never have to see you die. The thought is a heart-stopping kick to the chest—sobering enough to chase away the rest of my tears.

“That’s great,” I finally choke out. “You’d get the recognition you deserve, the chance to honor your stepmother’s legacy. You’d finally have everything you want.”

He smiles, the expression seeming to hide something else. “Would I?”

Is this a test? “You just told me it’s what you want.”

“Virgil.” He looks down at me, his freckles dark little stars against his moon-pale skin. My eyes get lost tracking them, searching for constellations in the chaos. “Don’t be ridiculous. I could never open a workshop alone. You’d have to be there too.”