My technique is unique to Allais the Stregona had said.
That was the same region Ginevra had lived. Where her grandmother practiced. Would she, then, know of her grandmother? If she was to find the terms to this curse, then she wanted to find out what she could about the woman who had cast it.
"You must have known my grandmother, Francesca Scaraveggi."
The Stregona turned and looked around her with a piercing expression.
"I may have known her once, but I cannot say anymore. To say that you were associated with the Enchantress herself is a risk in itself."
A risk? Ginevra sucked in her breath. "But, why?"
"Because her power was considered a threat to the king himself," The Stregona replied matter of factly.
"Signora, wait. How do I find these conditions?"
The Stregona furrowed her white eyebrows. "If you can find Adelia Alberti…she was an apprentice under your grandmother. I believe she lives in Allorca, a town close by here."
"Thank you. I'll look for her."
"And one more thing, dear. Do not underestimate the Maldoni. They are cursed in more than one way. Beware who you give your trust to. Stay wary."
The next moment, the carriage was rumbling away, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake.
Ginevra looked down at her hands. She had seen with her own eyes how the black thread had faded into them, seeping into her. And yet, aside from the sudden warmth that she had felt spread through her body, she didn't feel any different.
The energy of the curse will need some time to fully transfer to me. It could be weeks, even months…in the meantime, I need to find those conditions.
***
Ginevra's musings were interrupted by a knock at her door. Anette came in holding a tray with a steaming mug of hot milk.
"Your Grace? I brought some milk with honey. It's still a little too hot to drink." Anette told her. As she was placing the mug on the low side table next to the bed, Ginevra clasped her wrist. Anette, surprised, looked up to see Ginevra still looking out the window. "T-thank you, Anette. I'm grateful, for you."
Anette hung her head. Her lower lips started trembling. She burst out, "I'm sorry My Lady! I betrayed you!"
Ginevra turned around to look at her, trying to understand what she meant. The two young women now held each other's arms. Anette looked at Ginevra with an earnest, desperate expression. "I intentionally guided you astray so you would enter the Duke's room your first night! I don't deserve your trust and kindness. You can dismiss me! I deserve it! I'm so sorry!" she said between sobs.
Ginevra rubbed her back in an attempt to comfort her.
"It was because Luca…Luca said it was what the Duke wanted! And when I'm around him, I can't think straight," she continued between sobs, blushing at the mention of the young man.
"Ah Luca," Ginevra looked up at the ceiling in a half eye-roll. "It doesn't matter who wanted it. I'm here now, aren't I? I survived His Grace," trying to comfort Anette, who had slumped to the floor and was sobbing into her arms. "But you were so alone and vulnerable and I still lied to you," she started wailing again with a renewed fervor.
Ginevra wrapped her hands around the girl's shoulders, and Anette startled by the gesture, looked up at Anette with shining eyes.
"If you promise to be honest with me, from now on, then, I forgive you."
Even though I cannot be honest with you. Please forgive me, Anette. But these are not my secrets to tell.
The girl clasped her hands together, shaking them fervently in front of her. "I promise, I promise!" Tears dangled on the ends of her eyelashes.
"Then, everything's forgotten and we can start again," Ginevra told her, giving the girl a warm smile. Out of the corner of her eye, she spied the still steaming mug of hot milk on the window sill and grabbing it, shoved it in front of Anette
Forgetting everything else, Anette willingly took the mug and sipped on the steaming liquid.
"It's so hot!" Anette started crying again.
"Open your mouth! I'll blow," Ginevra cried.
With slow and intentional movements, Ginevra shifted away from the sleeping girl and had just placed a hand on the handle of the window pane to close it, when she paused, recognizing the two figures below. She leaned back a bit while pushing the window open a crack to widen the opening. The lamps lining the outside walls of the peristyle cast a glow on the faces of the two men below her.
"Niccolo, you should grow your hair out. I would personally braid it," Luca said in a voice that was a little too loud. He was walking alongside Nicco, but backwards. "If I can successfully walk all the way to the end like this, with my eyes closed, then you will have to. I would have won the bet."
"All the more reason not to," Nicco replied in a flat tone, without bothering to turn to look at Luca.
"But you know you'd look good in one. Take Boni as an example!"
At that, Nicco cast Luca a sly smile, his eyes narrowing, not unlike some sort of cold-blooded creature. "I would not dream of comparing myself to Boni."
That gave enough pause to Luca, who glanced up contemplatively for a full second.
"You're right. No one compares to Boni. He doth shine brighter than the sun." Then turning to Nicco, his features took on a more serious air. "But I know that under that emo facade there's a warm and cuddly marshmallow. The right person…just needs to get it out of you."
"And that would be…you?" Nicco
"Of course not. But one day, Nicco, you're going to fall. And you're going to fall hard."
"That is a deep, dark hole I don't want to be in. I told you, I have no intention of breaking my, or others' hearts, unlike you.
"That's beside the point, Niccolo! No, I am already half-way there – are you going to accept this bet or or not?"
So, Luca and Nicco, Taren's representative and personal correspondent, respectively. She furrowed her eyebrows. For some reason, those two roles seemed…insufficient to describe them. She noticed that they were often with Taren, and had even attended the ritual that morning. Even Boni. Taren probably required their presence at all times in case he had an immediate request. And yet, something was missing. It was like calling a scalding pot of water warm.
Luca had started singing now. He was the stark opposite of Taren. Come to think of it, all of them were. Boni, Nicco, and Luca. What convinced them to stay in his service as long as they had?
Ginevra heard a sigh and saw Anette looking out through the window next to her.
"Isn't he so charming?" Anette sighed again, as she stared out through the window. "You know, he's the second son of a marquis. His family wants him to settle down and get married to a lady with fortune, and that's why he ran away here, to avoid his family."
"Is that the only reason?" Ginevra raised an eyebrow. It dawned on her that Anette had been at the estate for at least much longer than she had, and would know more about the happenings and the people around the estate.
"Hmm…in any case, the only reason I know," Anette responded absent-mindedly, her eyes twinkling, without tearing her gaze away from Luca, whose voice slowly faded as he and Nicco disappeared into the night shadows.
"I wonder where they're going," Ginevra muttered, scratching her chin.
A thin gauzy layer of cloud had started to pass over the thin crescent of moon. She brushed her hands over her arms and closed the window.