Luna listened to the smack of mallet against meat as the kitchen girls got to work preparing dishes for dinner. The noises of the household had become her lullaby since she’d been confined to her chamber. The first full day she’d railed against the injustice of her lot, but that had soon turned to resignation and then finally to clarity. She slept longer and felt her head clearer as a result.

Isotta Nogarola had not let her emotions eclipse her thinking mind and so Luna made a promise to herself that she would find a solution to her problem. With her own hard work and knowledge, she would defend herself against a future she didn’t want. She turned to practical reasoning; at least she wasn’t getting married to Signore Spinelli’s son. She must be thankful, for if it came to it, she would have to do as her father commanded. Therefore, she must make sure she would never be considered a worthy bride, then she’d live in this house forever. She’d picked up the Sacrobosco from where it had landed on the floor and smoothed its bent cover. Throwing it had been a rash moment and she was glad it hadn’t been damaged. Books were essential; they would offer her a solution.

Luna heard Maria’s voice from her step-mamma’s chamber. She was listing which shops they were to visit and Luna was relieved to be confined to her chamber and unable to join them on their expedition.

She kept the image of an unmarried Isotta Nogarola burning in her mind as she finished reading the Sacrobosco. She had nearly memorised all the important sections. She slipped it under her pillow when a servant brought food or when her step-mamma came to her room. It wouldn’t be wise to let Mamma Lucrezia discover the book of astronomy in her hands. Yet books were not dangerous; it was what the reader did with the learnings that could cause damage. She thought about the ideas within the small book written by Aristarchus. There was an example of how a written concept could be ignored or embraced; for one reader it was blasphemy, for another, inspiration. Luna sat up and looked out the window, her mind ticking. If she wanted to make an indelible impression of unsuitability as a wife, then writing an exploration of Aristarchus of Samos’s Sun-centred model was her answer. She’d need to retrieve the book from her father’s studiolo, which simply meant picking a time when she knew he wouldn’t be there. Just like Isotta Nogarola, she would write an astonishing treatise, something to shock the very core of Florence society. If she did a good enough job, her father might even be pleased with her homage to his own rise.