“I said leave it!” I roared, and whirled to face her for the first time. Giulia Farnese had dutifully put on black in mourning for Juan, and her skirts pooled around her like the petals of a black rose as she knelt on the floor gathering and folding my dark livery. She always had a way of finding some tactful excuse to kneel or sit when we spoke together; any way she could fit herself to my height so I would not have to crane my neck at her. Her flesh glowed white against the black velvet; her hair gleamed gold in its netted mass, and her eyes were full of tears as she looked at me. Because she was the greatest whore in Rome (hadn’t I said that myself once, when I was being cruel?), and the best whores know men to the tips of their fingers. Even better than that, Giulia knew me. My face could hide to all the world that I had murdered a pope’s son, but it could no longer hide to Giulia Farnese how much I loved her.

“Oh, Leonello,” she said softly.

I had dropped my armload of books. I bent to retrieve them, turning away so she would not see the prickle of tears in my own eyes. My heart boiled.

Love. None of the philosophers had it right; what a vile and bitter brew it could be. The ache that had so often swamped me when I sat outside Giulia’s chamber after she’d retired with her papal lover, hearing her laughter through the door, and her muffled cries of passion. The jealous bile that filled me when I saw the casual kiss Rodrigo Borgia liked to drop on the nape of her neck in greeting, so I had to hold my hand back from stabbing the Holy Father through the heart out of sheer all-consuming envy. The fury that had swamped me when Juan Borgia and those French soldiers and that thug of an Angel dared lay their hands on her; the raw, clawing determination to sacrifice every last finger and limb I had to keep her from harm. The lust, oh God, when she dropped her gown and stood naked for Maestro Botticelli, and I knew myself no better than those cardinals who ogled her, even though I wanted to beat them all bloody for the humiliation I saw rising red in her cheeks.