Page 87 of A Dangerous Bargain

I touch his face again, my fingers unsteady. Was he struggling that much? Was I such a selfish sibling that I couldn’t see it?

“That’s not true. Don’t listen to him.” Leonardo’s voice rings like a sword being pulled from a scabbard. “It wasn’t your fault, Virgil.”

Piero’s mouth pulls. “After your brother gave up his soul, a demon refused to possess him. It’s happened before, but there was always a flaw with the host. Nothing was obviously wrong with your brother, but I suppose there must be a hidden defect in your family.” He notes my clenched jaw with a satisfied smirk. “Your brother became a shell, an empty vessel who could remember nothing of his past, or even what he’d done the day before. What use did we have a for a boy like that? We almost killed him. But then we thought it would be useful to have an… ally of sorts. After Soderini chose to spread his slander instead of keeping his mouth shut, we thought it best to replace him with someone more sympathetic to our family.”

Leonardo’s arm wraps around my shoulder. He pulls me to his side, his entire body quivering. “Niccolo’s not an ally. An ally can disagree with you, fight back. An ally is a person. You’re using a boy who lost his soul. Who believes he is whoever you tell him he is. Who can do your dirty work and never complain. Why be a banker when you can be a king?” His fury picks up speed, a boulder crashing down a hill. I feel his warmth pouring into me. “Why be a king when you can be God?”

Lorenzo flinches, his eyes flaring wide and darting to his father. Piero’s expression clouds over, his friendliness dropping like a mask. I hear a set of heavy footsteps approaching from the corridor.

“Can I interest you in a bargain?” The patriarch’s voice is as soft as smoke and twice as deadly.

I slide closer to Leonardo, hands fisted and shoulders raised. “I think we’ve made enough bargains.”

“I’m afraid it’s not a request. We need a new painter for the angelic bargains.” His chin dips to me. “And a new angel, since a workshop has so tragically lost one.”

A shadow slinks into the room. A guard, a body in his arms. He drops it at Piero’s feet. I flinch at the horrible thud. The corpse’s head lolls toward me, eyes vacant.

Bartolomeo Rucellai.

“I’m afraid my daughter-in-law didn’t pick a painter who could stomach the task.”

A foul taste swells up my throat. The wedding portrait commission was an audition. A way for the Medici to admire a promising crop of younger artists without anyone knowing what dark prize awaited the winner. Is Bartolomeo’s death our fault too? There’s a jagged feeling in my chest. A knife of panic and guilt that plunges deeper and deeper.

“I’ll give you three days. And if you can’t do it, like he couldn’t…” Piero nods toward Bartolomeo. His smile curves like a cutlass. “We’ll kill you both.”

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

I pace across the painting studio, a staticky, crackling restlessness racing through me. “We’ll find a way out of this.”

I won’t let anyone hurt you.

The unspoken promise fills my veins with iron. It’s not one I can keep.

Leonardo doesn’t act like he’s heard me. He sits on the edge of the pallet, his head in his hands, hair cascading to his knees. His back is to the canvas and paints on the worktable. Someone must’ve stocked it when we were out.

Leonardo’s things are here as well. His extra clothes. A patched winter cloak. Most chilling is the stack of leather folders rising from the floor to the table. Leonardo opened the first one and then recoiled as if it were a striking serpent. They’re all the sketches and machine blueprints from his bedchamber, organized and catalogued in a way he would never have done himself. A violence and violation of his very being. He hasn’t looked at them since.

Nothing of mine was moved here. I might as well already be gone.

“How?” His question is a tiny, broken thing. It cracks something in me. He’s all sunshine, my light. I don’t know how to be the person who fixes things for him, even though I want to be.

“We can make a bargain.” I settle on the bed beside him. The mattress dimples under our weight, pulling us together thigh to thigh. I pull out Lupa’s vial and uncork it so he can see the gold blood for himself. “Lupa gave this to me before she left. She’s not sure how it’ll work, but it’s worth a try.”

Leonardo’s eyes widen.

Then he pushes it away gently. “No.”

“No?” I repeat, certain I’ve misheard. “It could be a way out. We might as well try it.”

Niccolo’s soul has been stolen. We’ll be dead in three days. What else do we have left to lose?

He sighs at my furrowed brow. “Let’s think through this. If we escape, what happens next?”

It feels like Verrocchio is peering over my shoulder, evaluating my work and finding it wanting. “We’d get far away from Florence. I’d tell my family to follow. We could open up your workshop.”

Leonardo’s mouth pulls ruefully, as if I’ve answered wrong. “What about your brother? Would he come with us too?”

I pull in a sharp breath, as if I’ve stepped on broken glass.