Balbulus was always saying, but what was she to do? Without words she would die, she’d simply die, even faster than her mother had done.
The seal of the letter was a unicorn’s head. Whose seal was that?
Violante broke it and instinctively glanced at the door when she realized who had written to her. Brianna followed her glance. She had lived in this castle long enough to know that the walls and doors had ears, but fortunately, written words made no sound. Nonetheless, Violante felt as if she could hear the Bluejay’s voice as she read
— and she understood exactly what he was telling her, even if he had hidden his real words behind the written ones with great skill.
The written words spoke of the children and how the Bluejay was giving himself up in exchange for their freedom. They promised her father that the White Book would be cured if the Piper let the children go. But the hidden words said something else, something that only she could read between the lines. They said that at last the Bluejay was ready to strike the bargain she had offered him beside Cosimo’s coffin.
He would help her to kill her father.
We can do it easily together.
Could they really? She lowered the letter. What had she been thinking when she made that promise?
She sensed Brianna’s eyes on her, and abruptly turned her back to the girl. Think, Violante! She pictured what would happen, step by step, image by image, as if leafing through one of Balbulus’s books.
Her father would come to Ombra as soon as the Bluejay had given himself up. That much was certain. After all, he still hoped that the man who had bound the White Book for him could cure its ills. And as he trusted no one else with the Book, he would have to bring itto the Bluejay himself. Of course, her father would come with the intention of killing the Jay. He was desperate, half-crazed with what the rotting pages were doing to him, and even on the journey he would be thinking how to put his enemy to death in the most painful possible way. But first he must hand the book over to that enemy. And as soon as the Bluejay had the White Book in his hands it would all depend on her. How much time does it take to write three words? She must gain him that time. Just three words, a few seconds when he was unobserved, a pen and some ink, and then not the Bluejay but her father would die — and Ombra would be hers.
Violante felt her breath coming fast, her own blood roaring in her ears. Yes, it could work. But it was a dangerous plan, and far more dangerous for the Bluejay than for her. Nonsense, it will work, said her reason, her cool reason, but her heart was beating so fast that she felt dizzy. Once he’s in the castle, her reason kept asking, how are you going to protect him? What about the Piper and the Milksop?
"Your Highness?"
Brianna’s voice sounded different. As if something in her had broken. Good! I hope she sleeps badly, thought Violante. I hope her beauty fades while she’s on her knees scrubbing floors. But when she turned and looked at Brianna, all she wanted was to hold her close and laugh with her again, the way they used to laugh.
"There’s something else I’m to tell you." Brianna didn’t lower her eyes when she looked at Violante. She was still as proud as ever. "These herbs will taste very bitter.
They will help only if you use them properly. In the worst case, they can even be deadly. It’s all up to you.
As if she had to have that explained to her! But Brianna was still looking at her.
Protect him, said her eyes. If you don’t, then all is lost!
Violante stood up straight as a ramrod. "I understand you very well!" she said brusquely. "I am sure that the children will be very much better in three days’ time.
Their troubles will be over, and I’ll use the herbs with all the necessary care. Take that message back. And now go. Tullio will escort you back to the gates."
Brianna sank into another curtsy. Thank you. I know they’ll be in the best of hands with you." She rose hesitantly. "I know you have plenty of maids," she added quietly,
"but if you ever want my company again, please send for me! I miss you." She uttered the last words so softly that Violante could hardly hear them.
I miss you, too. The words were on the tip of Violante’s tongue, but she didn’t let them pass her lips. Be quiet, heart, you stupid, forgetful thing.
‘Thank you," she said. "But I don’t feel like hearing songs at present."
"No. Of course not." I3rianna turned as pale as when Violante had hit her, after she had been with Cosimo and then lied to Violante about it, "But who’s reading to you?
Who’s playing with Jacopo?"
"I’m reading to myself." Violante was proud of the cold rejection in her voice, although her heart felt so differently. "As for Jacopo, I don’t see much of him. He goes around wearing a tin nose that he had the smith make him, he sits on the Piper’s knee, and he tells everyone he’d never have been stupid enough to let Sootbird entice him into the marketplace."
Brianna put her hand to her throat. She really did wear a coin there. "Do you sometimes see him, too?"
"See who?"
"Cosimo. I see him every night in my dreams. And in the day I sometimes feel as if he were standing behind me."
Stupid creature. In love with a dead man. What did she still love about him? His beauty was food for worms now, and what else was there in Cosimo for anyone to love? No, Violante had buried her love with him. It had gone away like the silly happiness you feel after ajug of wine.
"Would you like to go down to the vault?" Violante couldn’t believe that her mouth had uttered those words.
Brianna was looking at her incredulously.
"Tullio will take you down. But don’t expect too much— you’ll find no one but the dead there. Tell me, Brianna," she added (ugly Violante, cruel Violante), "were you disappointed when the Bluejay brought your father and not Cosimo back from the dead?"
Brianna bent her head. Violante had never been able to find out whether she loved her father or not. "I would very much like to go down to the vault," she said quietly.
"If you’ll allow me.
Violante nodded to Tullio, and he took Brianna’s hand.
"Three more days and everything will be all right," said Violante, when Brianna was at the door. "Injustice is not immortal. It can’t be!"
Brianna nodded, as abstractedly as if she hadn’t been listening. "Send for me," she said again.
Then she was gone, and Violante was already missing her as the door closed. So? she thought. is there any feeling you understand better? Losing people and missing them—that’s what your life consists of.
She folded up the Bluejay’s letter and went over to the tapestry that had hung in her bedchamber since she first slept there at the age of seven. It showed a unicorn hunt, woven in a time when unicorns had been creatures of fantasy and were not carried dead through Ombra after a hunt. But even the unicorns of fantasy had had to die.
Innocence doesn’t live long in any world. Ever since Violante had met the Bluejay the unicorn had reminded her of him. She had seen the same innocence in his face.
How are you going to protect him, Violante? How?
Wasn’t it the same in all stories? Women didn’t protect the unicorns. They brought them to their death.
The guards at her door looked tired, but they hastily straightened their backs when she came out. Child-soldiers. They both had small siblings down in the dungeon.
