Free Cross My Heart by Sasha Gould Page B

round at the other women, but any clue they might give is hidden behind their masks.
    I whisper, “Yes.” What else can I do?
    Allegreza stares into my eyes. I set my jaw, determined not to lower my eyes. Finally, she nods. “Very well, then. We must assess the value of your contribution. Wait here.”
    She leads the women off between a pair of arches, into a side chamber. They process like nuns on their way to holy prayers. I glimpse a big wooden table and three lighted candelabras. Then they close the door and I am alone.
    What have I done? Marrying Vincenzo remains a disgusting prospect, but by being here, I feel that I might be getting tangled in an even more terrible web.
    I wonder what the hour is. I walk over to one of the thin windows to see if the air is lightening, or if there are dawn streaks of pink and orange in the sky. Beatrice once wrote that sometimes our father prowls through the palazzo atnight, pacing up and down and muttering to himself. I wonder if he’s creeping about on the other side of the lagoon, looking into my room and discovering I am gone.
    The door opens and the women pour back into the room. Allegreza stands before me, her white owl mask back in place.
    “Laura, men have always governed women—whether at home, when a husband gives orders to his wife, or through the complex machinations of the Grand Council. Men say they rule by the grace of God, but the source of their power is hypocrisy, vice and corruption. The Segreta is a tonic to this poison. By meeting here, we determine the fortunes of Venice. Men may be princes, priests, even the Doge, but the strings that control them are in our hands.”
    A rush of excitement flows through me. I think I may have turned the key to the door of my freedom.
    “If his enemies knew the secret you have given us,” continues Allegreza, “the Doge would be in great danger. News of his sickness would spread like a plague of its own. His opponents would use it to challenge him, to topple him from power.” Her voice lowers. “Do you see, Laura? A secret can cut deeper than any blade.”
    “But I don’t want anyone to hurt the Doge,” I say. “He seems a kind man.”
    A woman with a mask like a scaly python laughs. “Men seem many things.”
    “In return for what you have given us,” Allegreza interrupts, “we will stop your marriage to Vincenzo.”
    I clasp my hands to my breast. Relief bubbles inside me. “Thank you,” I breathe.
    Allegreza holds her hand out to me and I take it. Sheslides her other hand beneath the folds of her robe and draws out something long and thin. For a moment I think she’s holding a folded-up fan. But when the firelight lends it a metallic gleam, I feel a chill on my skin and everything inside me tightens.
    A knife.
    “No!” I mutter.
    I see everything clearly. They have my secret now, and no more use for me. I try to yank my hand free, but Allegreza’s grip is strong.
    “Don’t be afraid,” she says. “This will only hurt a little.”
    She positions the tip of the knife in the center of my palm. I feel a sharp sting at first, but nothing more. A bead of blood forms and trickles across my skin.
    “Welcome to the Segreta,” Allegreza says.
    The wound is nothing, an inconsequential stigma, but she reaches once more beneath her robe and this time takes out a lace-edged handkerchief with which she gently binds my hand. The woman wearing the fox mask steps forward, a shimmering mass of pearls and creamy feathers in her hands. It’s a swan mask. Sparkling beads of jet edge its eyes, and an elegant ocher beak follows a smooth line to where it joins the ghostly forehead.
    Allegreza takes it. I raise my chin and she slowly lowers it over my face. She puts a hand on my shoulder, turning me round, then knots the satin ribbons together to hold the mask in place. It has the aromatic smell of another woman’s perfume, and I know at once I’m not the first to wear it.
    “The meeting is concluded,” says