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A s if my head was mounted on a spring, it snapped toward Cal. “Lady Pulissena? The unofficial leader of the Acquasasso revolt?”

“Here? Now? How?” Elder sounded equally gobsmacked.

Cal looked first guilty, then exasperated.

“Her timing stinks like the canals of Venice at low tide. At the beginning of summer, she scripted a letter of a pleading nature, begging she be allowed to return to Verona to live out her days in the city she loves. I investigated her circumstances. She lives with her husband’s niece and is barely tolerated.

Of course, she was ever a sharp-tongued woman, and among the gossips, it was believed that her husband obeyed as she directed the insurrection.

” He waggled his head indicating he didn’t quite believe that.

“A female as military strategist? It seems doubtful.”

“From the stories my parents tell about her, if she had been in charge, the Acquasassos would now rule Verona.”

“Formidable woman,” Elder agreed, “but hampered by her husband and stepson.”

Cal inclined his head. “That also I remember. In my youth, whenever we met, Lady Pulissena frightened me into princely behavior. And we met often, for at one time, she and Nonna Ursula were close, good friends.”

“Ah. That explains Nonna Ursula’s particular bitterness toward her.” I studied him; he looked almost sheepish. “You granted her petition to return.”

“I did. Her petition for her and a few members of her household. The other Acquasassos can remain in the fetid air of the swamp and there rot.”

That answered my question; I had wondered if Cal failed to remember the miseries of the last revolt. “It seems unlikely insurrection could be roused by the presence of one old woman.”

“More than that, I’ve long wanted to speak to Lady Pulissena about my father’s assassination. Who among them gave the directive?”

“That’s my boy!” Elder said with satisfaction.

Ah. It wasn’t merely kindness that moved Cal to compassion. “What if it was her?”

“Let me first make the inquiry.” He came around the desk and offered his hand. “Come with me to greet Lady Pulissena.”

“Let me greet her and bring her to you,” I urged him. “I give her honor, and by requiring her to join you, give you consequence.”

He thought, and nodded. “Be vigilant.”

“As you direct, my prince.” I was tired of being vigilant everywhere I went, but when the other choice was death, I could be reasonable.

Elder drifted along as I walked briskly to the outer doors of the palace and onto the great steps.

Skinny, bent, and warped in every joint, Lady Pulissena required two men in Acquasasso livery and a wooden step to get her out of the sedan chair, and more than once, she staggered and grunted in pain.

She’d once been a woman of average height, but everything had shrunk from her stooped shoulders to her tiny feet.

“The years have not been kind to her.” Elder sounded shocked as her two men had to almost carry her up the steps to me.

I offered my hand—she barely came to my shoulder. “Lady Pulissena, I’m Lady Rosaline Montague. The podestà sent me to greet you.”

She peered up at me, black eyes wide and lashless; then in a voice like crushed gravel, she said, “You’re the girl my nieces are laughing about.”

She was too old and tiny to push down the stairs, so I said, “Yes, Lady Pulissena.”

“I told them you caught yourself a prince. That shut them up.” Pleased with herself, she smacked her wrinkled lips.

Now I was glad I hadn’t pushed her down the steps. Discipline had its own reward, I reminded myself.

“I suppose he’s enamored of you, too,” she said.

“In his way.” I said frankly, “He says I have nice tette. ”

“That’ll do for a start. He was a good boy. Respectful of me even when he sent my whole family into exile. You’ll have a decent-enough marriage.”

“Yes, Lady Pulissena.”

“I suppose that’s not enough for you, though, daughter of Romeo and Juliet. You want love and passion and all that romantic nonsense.”

“My parents are very happy.”

“Still?” She managed to sound scandalized. “ Merda, how long has it been?”

“Almost twenty-one years.”

“That’s hardly fair that one couple should have so much pleasure in each other, when most women have to settle for a stupid old man with ambitions above his station and a worthless stepson from his first marriage who dragged me down and left me alone in exile.”

“Well. That was plain enough,” Elder observed. “Never a blissful union, but much disintegrated by Bastiano’s rebellion, I suspected.”

I offered her my arm. “Your men can wait out here.” Because I wasn’t inviting unvetted strangers into the palace. “I’ll escort you to Prince Escalus, podestà of Verona.”

“I know what his title is.” She was testy, but she took my arm and we slowly, very slowly, made our way into the palazzo. As we walked, she asked, “Are the rumors true? That Ursula is dead?”

“She was attacked, but not killed.” That was something else about which Cal could inquire.

“Stop!” she commanded. We did, and Lady Pulissena put her hand over her heart as her chest hurt.

Callously Elder said, “Don’t let her die. Not yet! She’s got information we need.”

“Cal!” I shouted down the corridor. “We need you!”

“No!” Lady Pulissena snapped. “No, I’m fine. I simply thought . . .”

Cal appeared in the great walk and hurried toward us.

She watched him approach. “That’s Callie? Prince Escalus? He comes when you call. You’ve trained him well.”

I could snap as well as she could. “I haven’t trained him at all.”

“Yet he comes.” Her gaze slid between him and me. “All the gossip is true. You didn’t want this match. You want the rich boy from Venice.”

“The handsome, intelligent man from Venice.” I may not have been as soft-spoken as I should have been, for I took it ill she thought me so avaricious.

Cal seemed not to notice, but Elder did. “Defensive, are we?”

“Lady Pulissena, welcome home.” Cal gave her his arm. “Come, we’ll find you a seat.”

“I want to see Ursula.”

Cal cast me a surprised glance.

I shook my head, denying knowledge of this.

“I heard she was dead.” As if to loosen it, Lady Pulissena tugged at the velvet over her chest. “I thought I’d missed my chance to . . . pass some time with her.”

“Each hour finds her much convalesced,” I assured her. “You can wait until you’ve had a chance to recover from your journey.”

“Whoever struck her in the first place might strike again.” Lady Pulissena’s querulous voice grew sharp with fear.

Cal was patient. “Nonna Ursula is guarded every moment.”

“She’s old. She could die. I’m old. I could die. We’ve got no time left.” She was crumpling, yet on a mission. “Take me to her.”

“She always did know what she wanted,” Elder told me.

Lady Pulissena had Cal’s arm, and I gave her mine, and slowly we walked with her toward Nonna Ursula’s room. I looked over her bent gray head at Cal, and we exchanged dubious glances, both halfway sure we were about to witness an old-lady brawl—and it wasn’t going to be pretty.