Cross My Heart by Sasha Gould

Allegreza.
    She walks me back outside, taking a different, shorter route than the way I arrived. A bluish fog rises from thewater, and I can see the first fingers of dawn touching the domes and towers of the city. She carefully arranges my cape around me, but her eyes flash fiercely behind her mask.
    “We will keep our promise,” she says, “but remember yours. You’re one of us now. Breathe one word of the Segreta to anyone—and your life will be forfeit.”
    “I won’t tell a soul,” I say.
    She squeezes my hand before melting back into the shadows.
    I stand alone on the giant chessboard, my hot breath caught inside the mask.
    You’re one of us . But who are the Segreta? Apart from Allegreza, I have no idea. I feel bile rise inside me as I imagine the plots and crimes they might be hatching right now, in this shrouded monastery. I’ve been a fool. I’ve undermined the most powerful man in Venice, and for what? They have taken my secret, weighed its value and, like a crooked merchant, deferred the return payment. I’ve nothing to show for my visit except an empty promise.
    I untangle the ribbons behind my head, pull the mask from my face and cast it on the ground. I gulp at the cold air. The mask stares from the checkered stone, glowing like a specter. No—I can’t leave it for the Segreta to find. I snatch it up, shoving it under my cloak.
    At the water’s edge, the gondolier is waiting.
    “Your aunt not any better?” he asks, studying my face as he helps me into the boat.
    I don’t answer. I pull my cape around me and we glide back across the shimmering lagoon.

I t is almost daylight when I reach home. I tiptoe up the stairs, holding my skirts around my thighs to stop them from swishing. My father’s room is still closed and the palazzo silent. In my room I untie the handkerchief from my hand and see that a small scab has already formed. I quickly pull the mask from my cape and slip it inside one of the chests of drawers. I gather a pile of silk shawls that were Beatrice’s and arrange them on top. I rub my eyes, exhausted.
    I throw off my cape and shoes and peel my dress over my head, thinking that I’ll pull my covers over me and not think about the Segreta until the morning. I’m just about to slip into bed when I see, with a start, that someone is sleeping there already.
    It’s Faustina. I put my hand on her shoulder and shake her gently. She sits up and looks at me for a moment like I’m a stranger. And then her face crumples in relief.
    “Thanks be to God!” she says, hugging me tightly and kissing my forehead. “Where have you been? Oh, I’m so cross with you.”
    “I’m all right,” I tell her.
    “Where on earth did you go, darling? I’ve been sick thinking about what might have happened to you. I almost woke your father.”
    “I’m glad you didn’t do that,” I say. “Please don’t tell him.”
    She looks at me with tired eyes. “You must get into bed. How late it is. Laura, you can’t simply disappear from the house. I was beside myself. Oh, the terrible prayers I’ve been offering to get you home safely.”
    “Your prayers have been answered,” I say, giving her a squeeze. “I’m perfectly fine.”
    Faustina smooths the crumpled sheets and I clamber in. When I was very young, she would pretend to daub my eyelids with enchanted honey just before I went to sleep. My eyes feel heavy, like they used to then. I want to sleep and find out that the monastery, Allegreza and the Segreta were all a dream, and that no mask lurks in the drawer.
    But a sudden quiver from Faustina makes me sit bolt upright. She covers her face with her knobbled hands and a sob rises up from somewhere deep within her. I reach up, pulling her to sit down beside me, and wrap my arms around her plump shoulders.
    “I’m sorry,” she gasps between sobs. “Not being able to find you made me think of your poor dear sister.”
    “I’m the one who needs to say sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten