Page 80 of Thus with a Kiss I Die
Papà sighed and separated them. “Come on. Kiss Rosie, and then we’ll feed the animals.”
“What animals, Papà?” Cesario asked.
“You animals,” Papà said.
My siblings lined up, youngest to oldest, and kissed me on the forehead. Emilia whispered, “Your black eye is awesome.”
Katherina laid her cheek against mine for a long moment. “You scared us so much!”
Lysander was next to the last in line, ahead of Papà; and with Papà watching, he didn’t kiss me, but he did cup my cheek. “Your black eyeisawesome,” he said, and lifted Efron from the bed and, hugging him, took him from my room.
Papà kissed me on the forehead and nodded in approval. “Your black eye is the badge of a warrior, as if we needed proof that our eldest daughter has a brave, loving, and true heart.” He took Adino and that tiny face screwed up as if to complain about his loss of warmth. “Thank you for coming to your mamma’s aid, Rosie, and helping us produce two more blessings. May God reward you for your valor.”
I smiled to see him with his son. “Papà, this animal would like to eat, too.”
“Your meal is here.” Papà moved toward the door and revealed Cal behind him.
CHAPTER44
Cal put the tray beside the bed. “Thanks to you, my own sister now calls me Cal.”
I tried not to grin, but he sounded so resigned, and I didn’t believe that for a minute. Always the man was in the right place at the right time, and always he steered himself there. “Earlier, you were here alone.”
“Even then, Emilia remained in the chamber with us and I trembled under her critical gaze.” He plumped the pillows and helped me sit up. He handed me a cold, damp, folded cloth. “Here. Put that on your eye.”
Ah, the palace ice. I had indeed achieved warrior status. I placed it on my bruised face, and both winced and sighed at the prospect of relief. “Nonna Ursula—has she spoken?”
“Not yet. But as you do, she drinks and eats and life comes back into her countenance.”
“That is the best news of all!”
“She’s guarded at all times, as is my sister and your sisters here in Casa Montague. Thank you for putting Dion on duty when you left.” He didn’t reproach me for leaving. He knew and understood duty and love, but he had expressly commanded I not go out, and the trip to Casa Montague had been a disaster almost unto death. Baal of the flame eyes crawling toward me would live on in my nightmares.
Yet I would have gone even if I’d foreseen the events, and he knew it. “Shouldn’t you be out patrolling the streets?”
“Verona is Verona once more. Loud, busy, angry about thedisciplinatirioters and the damage they caused, blaming me and my men for failing them. Except the people who for a price repair damage—they’re busy and pleasant.”
I enjoyed his wry humor, knowing he gladly shouldered his burden as both podestà and scapegoat of Verona. “Why do you do it?”
“For my people. For my place.” He placed a hand over his heart and gestured out my window: “For this city on the silver river.
“These red stones glowing in the sun.
“This arena, ancient monument among the ancients.
“This fortress built by Roman gods against the barbarians of the north.
“These men and women who live happily within these ancient walls.
“This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this home . . . this Verona.”
All right, I confess, it was poetry, yet I tingled at that magnificent summing up of the beauty that was my city-state.
Prosaically, he handed me a mug. “Here.”
I drank, then peered into it in disgust. It was the same broth and porridge he’d given me earlier. “That’s it?”
“Bread? Cheese?” he suggested.
