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Not when my heart is in shreds.

It’s not fair to me, and it’s not fair to him.

So, I do the next best thing. I press a finger to his lips and tell him my truth. “I can’t.” I stop. Shake my head. “Or rather, I won’t. Not like this. Not tonight. I need to get my head sorted out.”

He grasps hold of my finger, traces a hand over my cheek. “I’m not going anywhere,” he says. “I’ll be here if, and when, you decide that you’re ready.”

I nod, and, not trusting myself to hold true to my word, I take a step back.

“For now”—he slings an arm around my shoulders—“what do you say we get you to bed?”

I look at him in alarm.

“Alone. I’ll take the daybed.”

I nod, relaxing again.

“Because tomorrow, Shiv, while Florence is burning, we’ve got ourselves a Moon to go find.”

59

I stand on the other side of the door, waiting until I hear soft, even snores sounding from Killian’s bed. Then I slip into the boy’s clothes I wore earlier, grab a few additional items along with a torch, and steal into the night.

Though I have no idea what time it might be, I’m guessing it’s close to predawn. Early enough that the streets are quiet, which means there’s little chance of getting caught.

Or at least that’s what I hope, since, according to Killian, there are patrols of night police who are all too eager to enforce Savonarola’s new curfew.

And while I guess I could’ve, maybe even should’ve, waited for Killian to wake up and join me, when I think of what almost happened between us, how close I came to kissing him, Killian feels more like a guilty distraction.

I mean, yes, sometimes I’m impulsive. But I’m not the type who hops from one boyfriend to the next. And until I settle things with Braxton, I can’t be thinking of Killian like that.

Also, I’ve got a job to do, and getting sidetracked by a bunch of relationship drama will only put me at risk.

The streets are dark, but I navigate easily enough. When I see the cathedral, I dart quickly toward it, skirting around the pile of treasures that are set to burn later today, wishing I could save them all, especially the paintings and books, but that’s not what I’m here for.

Once I’m inside the cathedral, I head for the stairs and begin climbing all 463 of them. With my flickering torch my only source of light, I try not to think about the all-too-real threat of falling to my death or being claimed by claustrophobia.

When I’ve finally made it to the top, I gaze out at the view beyond. But since it’s too dark to see much of anything, I find a place to sit and settle in.

I have a theory. And after meeting Leonardo, I’m more convinced than ever that he paints with intention, that every drop of color is placed for a reason. Like the collection of words that comprise a book, every stroke of Leonardo’s brush is part of the story he’s chosen to tell.

And, in this case, those three dots he placed on that crystal sphere in theSalvator Mundiaren’t just random splotches he included to mimic the sort of occlusions that naturally occur.

No, Leonardo was pointing at something. Telling us something.

And if my theory is right, it should direct me straight to the Moon.

When the first rays of sun steal past this ancient horizon, my heart fills with gratitude for the chance to experience such a wonder, while trying not to think about the cost of such a Trip—of every Trip.

Still, the nagging questions continue to spin through my head.

What is Arthur really planning to do once the Antikythera Mechanism is restored?

And should I really be so complicit in helping him get there?

When the sun edges higher, painting the city in a warm and glittering shade of Florentine gold, I close my eyes and summon the image of theSalvator Mundiin my mind’s eye, centering my focus on those three white dots. And when I see them so clearly it’s as though the painting manifested before me, I open my eyes and gaze once more at the view, delighted to find it’s right there, plain as day, just as I’d hoped.

The white dot on the far left of Leonardo’s painting stands in for the Basilica di San Lorenzo.