Torrent by Lisa T. Bergren Page A

but did he have companions close behind?
    But he never drew his sword. He simply charged by our line of horses and yelled, “ Consiglia loro di cessare l’inseguimento, Marcello!” as he did. Tell them to cease their pursuit!
    Marcello looked after him, wheeling his horse around so that he was between me and the newcomer, as did Luca with Lia and Dad with Mom. But then he yelled, “Hold!” and lifted his fist in a sign that echoed the command.
    The twins immediately peeled off to either side of us and brought their mounts to a stop. Everyone else maintained his position.
    The man on the massive gelding pulled up on his reins, then slowly turned and looked at us all. He removed his own oiled hood and urged his skittish horse forward. He was a bit hard to make out through the pounding rain, but after a few steps Marcello laughed, then urged his horse toward the man. They met and clasped arms, speaking and turning to look our way.
    Then I recognized him. Greco. It was Lord Rodolfo Greco.
    Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome.
    Dangerous as all get-out and just as confusing.
    The man who had tracked me down. Brought me to Firenze, before the grandi. Slapped me before them. Then fed me. Bound me and put me in a cage. And then helped Marcello free me.
    “Gabi, is that—?” Lia began.
    “Yeah. It’s him,” I said, licking my lips. I wished I had a canteen of water. Of the nice metallic, Girl Scout variety. Not the repurposed animal skin that made me never want to drink again. I sighed. Dying of thirst while drowning in a sea of rain.
    Rodolfo and Marcello turned to face me. “We’ll rest here for a moment. Take shelter under those trees,” Marcello said. We moved toward them, but finding relief from the rain under them was kind of fruitless. The old oaks were massive, so the limbs gave us some partial breaks, but they weren’t the same as in the summer, when fully leafed.
    “Lady Gabriella,” Rodolfo said, nodding toward me. “Lady Evangelia,” he added to my sister.
    “Lord Greco,” she said. Appropriately. But I couldn’t seem to say anything. Dry throat, I thought. But in truth I wasn’t yet ready to speak to the man.
    When Marcello dropped to the mat of dead leaves and grass at his feet and then turned to me, I braced myself. It made sense, if we were breaking. He wanted me off the horse and closer to him. He studied me, concern in his eyes. “You are well?” he asked quietly.
    “Well as I can be,” I returned in kind. “Marcello, I know he helped you free me…but he is also the same man who captured me and dragged me into Firenze behind his horse.”
    The muscles in Marcello’s cheek tensed. “What? Surely he did not—”
    “He did.”
    Marcello stared into my eyes and then pulled me around to the other side of my mare, where we could speak more privately. “You never spoke of it.”
    “You never asked!” I sighed. “Marcello, there was hardly time for us. We were in constant battle, from the time you freed me to the time I left.”
    “And yet you said nothing as we made these plans to bring you here.”
    “It hardly seemed appropriate. You had greater things to be concerned about. And I…I didn’t think it would be him . Here.”
    “What is greater than your welfare? Do you…can you not trust him, Gabriella? Based on my testimony?”
    I closed my eyes. “I do not know, Marcello. You said yourself that he had to pretend a certain amount in order that the grandi would not know he was a Sienese sympathizer.” I thought of the Rossis, of them all hanging from a rope, their necks at odd angles, feet dangling, and I shuddered. If Rodolfo was our friend, he was taking a grave risk indeed.
    “We need to hear him out. And in the end, he did help us rescue you. Without him we would’ve never made it out of Firenze.”
    I nodded. “You’re right, of course. It’s only foolish, idle memories getting in my way.”
    “Not foolish,” he said, lifting my chin. “It was terrible, what you