The Plague Doctor's Daughter

18. Giovanna

"Thank you." Giovanna respectfully bowed before following the soldier down a hallway.

Significantly smaller than the building next door, the two floors of the New Prison centered around a courtyard that allowed for better ventilation for its greater number of detainees, but it was by no means luxurious. Functionality underscored its strength even as its bold architectural choices exuded a macabre elegance.

Giovanna kept her eyes on her feet as she followed the guard first up a narrow staircase and then down a long hallway, waiting patiently each time he stopped to unlock one of the interior security doors. Yet no matter how much she tried to ignore it, she still couldn't completely block out the pained whimpers, the muddled cries, and the occasional enraged screams of the incarcerated they passed. Her already significant guilt intensified with each step, and she prayed that Stefano could find a way to eventually forget this unfortunate turn of events. Perhaps one day she'd even be brave enough to tell him about her reason for wanting to see him temporarily out of her way. But that certainly wouldn't be today.

After entering a narrow corridor lined with grated windows on one side and barred cells on the other, the guard led her to the only occupied enclosure. "Three minutes," he grunted, gesturing to the prisoner huddled in the far corner before stepping away.

"But the other man said five," Giovanna objected.

The guard smirked a devilish smile. "Well, he's not here, is he? And you've just wasted thirty seconds."

Recognizing her folly, Giovanna stopped arguing and instead grabbed the thick iron bars. Sticking her face in the space between them, she addressed the prisoner. "Husband! It is me, Giovanna. Please tell me that you are unhurt."

Stefano slowly raised his head from its resting position on his drawn-up knees and squinted toward the light. "You?! How dare you show your face here, woman!" he yelled hoarsely while using the wall to help him stand.

Tears flooded Giovanna's vision as she watched him hobble closer, undoubtedly injured while resisting arrest. "I . . . I had no part in placing you here. You must believe me. I swear it," she said, freely emphasizing her earnestness due to the inherent truth in the statement.

Steadying himself against the bars, Stefano shuddered. "I do not know whether the chill is in the air here or if it is coming from the ice within your veins," he said, using one hand to pull his mis-buttoned, crumpled jacket around him.

If he had evidence to her duplicity, he didn't reveal it, so Giovanna countered the accusatory remark with a forced smile. "I will return tomorrow with a blanket to keep you warm," she said, intent on being as an amenable as possible under the circumstances.

"Tomorrow?" Stefano cried, throwing his head back. "You best do everything in your power to have me freed from this unjust imprisonment well before then."

Giovanna's pulse raced, and she shook her head at the request, already fearing the consequences of failure. "I am, but a simple girl. I do not have the capacity for such influence," she said, not revealing that even if she could get him out early, she most certainly wouldn't do so.

Stefano pulled himself closer to the bars, making Giovanna flinch.

"That man," he whispered, while studying her face. "The noble at your father's door last night. Who was he, and what was your business with him?" he asked as an increasingly crazed look flashed across his features.

Giovanna swallowed hard. If Stefano did not know her exact connection to Matteo Barozzi, then he suspected the worst, which in this case was just as bad. Her only choice was to lie, an act that never came naturally to her. Why could she not be like Ottavia who could spin a yarn so elaborate with such little effort that sometimes even she believed her own falsehoods?

The only thing her friend could never hide at least from her was what lurked in her heart. But for that, Giovanna was nothing, if not grateful. Because it was after Ottavia's own admission that she considered if perhaps the intimate companionship of a girl could also make her happy. After a brief internal struggle, Giovanna concluded that she would always like the idea of potentially kissing boys, too. But if she had known then that she'd be stuck with a boy like Stefano Visconti, perhaps she would have come to a different opinion.

"I had no business with him at all," she finally answered even as her voice inadvertently quivered. "He sought my father's elixirs—"

"Lies!" Stefano spat. "There was familiarity there, no matter how adamantly you deny it."

She attempted to step away, but he caught her hands. "No, no, it is not what you think," she denied, her fear gradually replaced with a bubbling anger at how easily he could accuse her of betrayal. Pulling out of his grip, she stumbled backwards just as the guard announced that their time was up.

Giovanna didn't need to be told twice, leaving the prison to the increasingly faint shouts of "whore" behind her.