“How is it done?” I couldn’t help wondering. “If no cardinal has ever resigned his red hat before, then what is the proper procedure? Poor Burchard must have had fits.”

“He did. It was decided I would give a brief speech before the College of Cardinals, announcing my unfitness for a religious vocation, after which the Holy Father will release me from my vows.”

“And then?”

“I meet with the French King’s chamberlain immediately afterward.” Cesare tied the laces of his shirt at the cuff. “He is to make me Duc de Valentinois. He may offer me a French marriage as well, but an alliance with Naples will be more useful once I launch my campaign against Romagna. I’ll take a Neapolitan bride.”

“Sancha of Aragon, perhaps?” There had been rumors that Cesare’s cardinalate would simply be traded to pouting little Joffre, an even exchange of red hat for Neapolitan wife.

“Sancha of Aragon is a bastard-born slattern with the French pox,” Cesare said casually. “I will have a legitimate princess of Naples.”

You want Naples itself, I thought. Romagna first, then Naples—and after that, the world. But I would not be there to help him get it.

“With Your Eminence’s permission,” I said, “I will be leaving your service.”

His hands stilled a moment on his shirt ties. “Interesting.”

“Not very. I would merely rather go to Carbognano than Naples.”

Cesare tilted his head at his servants, his bustling squires, even Michelotto. “Leave us.”

They filed out mutely. Any other servants would have whispered, but Cesare Borgia required perfect silence and perfect obedience from his menials. And they were all far too terrified of their master not to give him exactly what he wanted.

“Leave my service,” he said as the doors closed and left us in the stifling richness, “and you leave by way of the river. Face down.”

“I have done good work for you, Your Eminence.” I saw that the laces of his other cuff still dangled, and crossed the room to do them up for him. He allowed me to make the knots at his wrist. “Not to mention the fact that you rather like me. I would request that you allow me to retire, rather than drown me.”

“Why should I do that? You’d be nothing but a loose thread, Leonello, and I dislike loose threads. They need to be tidily cut off.”

“Who knows how to keep his mouth shut better than a dwarf?” I brought him his cardinal’s robes over the fold of my arm as he gestured for them. “You have nothing to fear from me, I assure you.”

It was the wrong thing to say. His face darkened as though the sun had come down over it. “I fear nothing.”

“Certainly not me,” I agreed swiftly, and took a slow breath as I played the only card I had. “But you do owe me, Your Eminence.”

“Owe you?” He laughed. “For what?”