“Spare me your sentimentality,” I said. “My skills lie elsewhere. I am a killer of men, and now I do the work I am so good at.”

“Spare me your brooding dramatics,” Giulia shot back, and gestured to my knives. “There is much more to you than this!”

“Cesare Borgia knew what I was the moment he laid eyes on me.”

“Cesare Borgia is empty inside.” Giulia held my eyes in hers. “You are not.”

“I tortured Juan Borgia and I enjoyed every instant of it.” I spat the words at her, venomous and soft so the guards would not hear. “I staked Lord Sforza’s hand to the letters of impotence until he signed them, and I enjoyed that too. Cesare Borgia told me to kill Perotto, and I never hesitated. I saw Michelotto sink a knife into your Pantisilea, a silly bawd of a girl who never did anyone any harm, and I didn’t lift a finger to stop him.” I swirled a hand about my face. “Do you see me now? Or will you bleat more idiotic questions at me?”

“Just one. Did you kill Carmelina too?”

The silence stretched.

“I didn’t think so,” said Giulia. “Tell me why.”

I wound my hands through my belt.

“You didn’t kill her because you like her. You always have. So when you got your orders, you saved her instead.” I heard hope in Giulia’s voice. “That makes me very glad, Leonello. For her sake, and for yours.”

“Don’t be sentimental.” I began walking again, walking fast, but Giulia kept pace with me as we crossed the center of the Ponte Sant’Angelo. The guards tramped ahead, oblivious. “I didn’t kill her, but she might as well be dead. I walled her up in that convent, and I assure you she would rather be dead.”

“But you spared her life! Would Michelotto have done that? Or Cesare—”

An explosion rocked the city behind us. My hand dropped to my dagger, even though I knew what it was, and Giulia spun.

“The flames must have reached the gunpowder on the pyre.” I let go of my dagger hilt, but my heart was still racing, and not just from the explosion. “They always salt the brushwood with gunpowder, just to give the crowd a bang. Though most people will still hang about for a few hours, making bets on how long it will take the good friar’s arms and legs to roast and fall off.”

“You never used to be callous.”

“And I believe we have established that you do not know me as well as you think.”

“But you know me.” She hesitated. “Leonello—am I in danger?”

“From me?” My stomach twisted despite myself. “Didn’t I say I dislike killing women?”

“And you said Michelotto doesn’t mind.” She shuddered. “Will he come for me, or for Laura?”