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Leo picked up the bundle of firewood. It was a chilly night and a thick fog was rolling in. As he turned to go back inside he caught sight of a horse heading towards him. It was almost curfew and Leo watched with a mixture of interest and concern.
As the horse got closer he saw that the rider was slumped in the saddle. Leo stepped forward, catching at the reins and drawing the horse to a stop, making soothing sounds to calm the tired, but agitated, beast. The black-clad rider was facing away from him and Leo tugged at their cloak.
"Are you all right?"
The rider moaned and practically fell into Leo's arms. Leo grabbed at the man, gathering him up as best as he could. The horse – a beautiful black Andalusian, Leo realised – now stood blessedly still. Leo tipped back the hood of the cloak not entirely surprised by what he found.
"Count Riario."
Riario's eyelids fluttered open and he groaned in pain.
“…didn’t…know where else…to go…”
Leo ran appraising eyes over him. There was a dark patch at one hip and he caught the tang of blood. With a sigh of resignation Leo took the wounded Riario inside.
*
Leo laid Riario down on a table and stripped off the wounded man’s jacket and shirt, opened his blood-stained trousers to expose the terrible cut at his right hip. Riario moaned again, barely conscious, eyes closed.
“I don’t know what happened – knife wound, I suppose – but you’ve lost a lot of blood,” Leo said. “I’ll do what I can but I make no promises.”
Riario murmured something unintelligible.
"This will hurt," Leo warned, on the off-chance Riario was still capable of hearing and understanding him. "But I need to see how deep the wound is, if there's any damage to the viscera. Though if there is, I'm afraid there's not much I can do."
Riario writhed beneath his touch as Leo slid two fingers into the gaping wound. He uttered a single cry and was still.
Leo finished his exploration of the injury, moved bloody fingers to feel the pulse, faint but still beating, in Riario’s neck. Unconscious but not dead and if Leo had any say in it, he would remain alive.
If Riario really had nowhere else to go, if he’d trusted Leo, then the least Leo could do was take care of him. He could practice his skills, prove them to Riario, maybe earn a favour from Rome.
It was also, Vanessa and Andrea would tell him, the right thing to do, despite who Riario was.
For once, Leo decided he was willing to do the right thing.
*
Riario blinked and this time he managed to keep his eyes open. There was a rustle of clothing and a red-headed woman came to crouch at his side.
“Here, let me help. Careful,” she said, deftly slipping one hand around behind his shoulder and adjusting the pillows with the other so that he was more upright. “Better?”
Riario nodded. She held out a mug.
“You probably need water.” She wrapped his hand around the mug but didn’t release her grip. With her help Riario took a few sips.
“My name is Vanessa,” she said. “I’m a friend of Leo’s.”
Riario’s brow crinkled. Vanessa…wasn’t she the tavern wench of that dreadful place Leo frequented? “The Barking Dog,” he said, voice hoarse with disuse.
“Yes, that’s where I usually work,” she agreed. "Luckily for you I wasn't always a bartender though. I was once a nun, and it was my duty to take care of the sick and injured. "
Riario glanced down at his side, though his view was obscured by a blanket. He was sore and exhausted.
“It was a serious wound,” Vanessa supplied without him needing to ask. “Leo did what he could, cleaning and stitching it.”
“Leonardo?” His voice was more certain now, even if his vocabulary was still limited by his lack of energy.
“He’s out with Zo at the market.” She laughed. “Leo is great to have around in a crisis, even ones he didn’t create. And he does tend to create as many crises as he solves. But the thing about Leo is that he’s all about the drama, the big idea. He stayed with you the entire first night, trying to stave off any infection with all manner of herbal concoctions, but once it looked certain you’d live he rather lost interest.”
Riario didn’t know how to feel about that, so he latched onto the issue of time. “The first night?”
“It’s been four days,” she said. “I’ve been taking care of you during the day and on the second night, when Leo had a meeting with Lorenzo. Usually Leo checks in on you once I go to work, though he’s been busy sketching most of the nights.”
“Thank you,” Riario said, because it was important to be polite, especially when someone had your life in their hands. He doubted he could fend her off if she took it into her head to murder him, and he was currently relying on her for every necessity.
She smiled. She was pretty, not elegant in the way Lucrezia or Clarice were, with their expensive gowns and elaborate coiffures, but a simple beauty with her soft waves of auburn hair and kind eyes. Then she moved away, returning with a another mug.
“Here, Leo said you had to drink this as soon as you woke up fully.” She handed him the mug which was full of something dark that did not smell appetising. This time he gripped it securely and she gave him a look of approval as he raised it to his lips.
Riario took a cautious sip, grimacing at the bitterness. Under Vanessa’s watchful gaze he took a few swallows. “What is it?”
“Water, milk, wine, various herbs, and some bull’s blood,” she said.
Riario fought nausea.
“If Signor-I-don’t-eat-anything-with-eyes says you need bull’s blood then you ought to drink it,” Vanessa told him. “God knows you lost enough of your own.”
Seeing his distaste as he forced down the rest of the mixture she took pity on him. “If you finish it, I’ll get you some water with a dash of wine. And, if you think you manage it, something to eat.”
After he obediently drained the entire mug, followed by a few swallows of watery wine, and a handful of grapes, Riario let Vanessa wipe his face with a damp cloth, half-mortified at this weakness and half-soothed by her gentle ministrations.
"My horse?" he asked.
"Zo is taking of it as if it were his own," she said and whatever else he thought of Zoroaster, Riario trusted that he could look after a horse – and that if it were not the case, Leo and Vanessa would not have allowed the arrangement.
Reassured, he slept again and when he woke it was almost dark.
“Leo will be home soon,” Vanessa said. She was sitting at his side, reading a book of poetry. He wasn’t that surprised. A nun, she’d said. Not a noble but an educated woman nonetheless. “Do you need anything before I go?”
Riario considered if it was worse to ask the former nun or Leo for assistance. “To relieve myself,” he said at last.
She put aside the book. “Come on then.”
He’d expected her to provide a chamber pot, not attempt to haul him out of bed, and he protested.
“Leo says you have to get up as soon as possible,” she said sternly. “A little exercise will increase the blood flow. You’re already stiff and sore and lying here wallowing in self-pity won’t help.”
“I am not wallowing,” Riario snapped, wincing as he swung his legs out and onto the rough wooden boards.
“Of course you aren’t.” She bent down so he could wrap one arm around her shoulders, helped him to stand. “We’re not going outside, just over here to the chamber pot. A few steps, that’s all. That’s it, come on. Bit more. You can lean on the wall.”
Sure enough they’d made it to the corner of the room and Riario was able to lean on the wall to catch his breath. He was wearing only a long linen nightshirt (Leo’s, surely?) which was a relief because he didn’t have to fumble with buttons or other fastenings. Vanessa turned her back to give him some privacy, even though she’d obviously seen everything already, and he warmed to her further. When he was done, he smoothed down the nightshirt as best as he could and gave a small cough to signal that he needed her to take him back to bed.
“Can I see the wound?” Riario asked, as she prepared to restore the covers.
“Later,” she promised. “Leo will change the bandages and I don’t want to disturb the injury more than I have to.”
“Nessa,” Leo called from the other room as if on cue.
“Time for me to go,” she said, finishing tucking Riario in. She ran a gentle hand over his hair and then she was gone from the room.
“Fully back in the land of the living,” Leo greeted him cheerfully.
Riario nodded.
“I’m going to eat and then you can tell me how you ended up here,” Leo said. “We’ll check on your injury later.”
Leo devoured a plateful of fruit and insisted Riario try to eat something. He managed a handful of raspberries and a few grapes. Leo finished off the untouched apple slices and put the plate aside.
“So, what happened to you?” Leo asked, sitting in the chair at Riario’s bedside, sipping wine.
“We were on our way back to Rome when we were attacked just outside Florence,” Riario said. “Mercenaries, I believe, skilled ones. My entire entourage was killed as were most of our attackers. One mercenary fled. I was the sole survivor of my group and I needed help, though I knew I had probably sustained a fatal wound. There was so much blood…you were not only the closest safe haven I could think of, closer than the palace even, but the one person I thought might save me. All that arcane knowledge you have in your head.”
Leo gave a smug smile. “All that forbidden knowledge,” he pointed out.
“I am too tired to debate.”
Leo frowned at that and put aside his drink. “Let’s change these bandages,” he said, and fetched some supplies. Riario gave him an uncertain look, holding onto the thin blanket that was a barrier between them.
“You do know you’ve been barely conscious for the better part of four days and that Nessa and I have been tending to your every need? There's no sense in being shy now,” Leo said, amused. “Besides, I have a great fascination with the human form. I find nothing sinful or inherently sexual about it. My desires can always be kept separate from my skills. But if you want your privacy, so be it; I can work without having you naked.”
True to his word, Leo helped Riario shuffle both the blanket and the nightshirt so that Riario’s hip was exposed but his groin was not. Leo didn’t bother to unwrap the bandages, slicing through them with a blade instead, and tugging the resulting scraps free.
Riario swallowed hard. The wound was ugly with dark stitches holding the damaged skin together. Leo used a dry cloth to wipe away the remnants of a salve before he bathed the area gently with saltwater. Riario bit his lip against the sting.
"Sorry, but it has to be done," Leo said. He used his finger and thumb to probe the edges of the wound, nodding in apparent satisfaction. Then he applied a fresh amount of salve that smelt like lavender and rosemary, and coaxed Riario to sit up so he could more easily wrap fresh strips of linen around his torso.
“It’s looking better,” Leo assured him, when Riario was settled back down and covered up fully. “It will scar but the salve will help with that and it should fade in time.”
Riario nodded.
“You shouldn't ride for a while," Leo said. "If you tear those stitches you could bleed to death this time. A carriage should be possible soon. Painful but possible. I’d suggest you stay here a few more days at least."
Riario inclined his head in acknowledgement. “Very well.”
Leo began to clear the dirty linens away.
“Leonardo.”
Leo turned to look at Riario.
“You saved my life when I have given you no reason to. Thank you.”
Leo shrugged. “It gave me chance to put a few things into practice.” He gave a wicked grin. “Do you need anything else?”
Riario shook his head. A pleasant warmth was spreading over his lower body and the floral scent was calming. His eyelids were heavy and Leo said, “Rest, then. I’m only in the next room if you need me,” but Riario barely heard the words before he was asleep once more.
*
Riario woke from a terrible dream that he didn’t remember the details of, sitting up gasping for breath, his side aflame. Leo brought a candle, set it down nearby and tried to soothe him.
“Sssh, it’s all right. You’re safe.” Leo sat down on the bed and slid one arm around Riario. “Sssh, now.”
Riario leaned into him, grateful for his presence. “I’m sorry,” he managed, when he got his breath back. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“I wasn’t sleeping. I was sketching,” Leo assured him. “Here, have some water.”
Riario was strangely disappointed when Leo released him in order to pass him some tepid water. He dutifully took a few swallows.
“Lie back," Leo said, retrieving the mug. “You were thrashing around. I want to make sure you’re not bleeding.”
Riario did as he was told, didn’t fret over Leo lifting his garment. He winced as Leo probed at the injury once more.
“Not bleeding,” Leo said at length. “You need to be careful though.”
Riario nodded, closed his eyes.
“I’ll stay close,” Leo said, smoothing down the blankets. “In case you have another nightmare.”
“I don’t need you fussing over me,” Riario said wretchedly, mostly because he was stunned at finding Leo’s attention desirable. Worse, he was starting to find Leo himself desirable and that could not be allowed. It only now occurred to him that Leo had talked of separating his desires from his skills in a way that suggested he did in fact have desires that needed to be kept separate.
“I’m not fussing,” Leo said. “I’m just trying to make sure you don’t undo all my good work by tearing open your side again.”
Eventually Riario fell into a thankfully dreamless sleep.
*
When he woke it was daylight once more and Vanessa was sitting in Leo’s place with another mug of wine and blood and God only knew what else.
They’d barely finished breakfast, toileting, bathing –Riario let Vanessa wipe his back but he used the damp cloths to scrub the rest of his own skin free of sweat – and getting him settled back down when Nico arrived, red-faced.
Vanessa stood in front of Riario in a defensive stance. “I won’t let you hurt him, Nico.”
Nico glared at Riario. Not so long ago Riario had tortured him and the scar on his hand was still healing. Nico had every right to be furious with him. Vanessa’s protectiveness however surprised him.
“There are people looking for him,” Nico said without preamble, continuing to scowl at Riario. “Roman troops.”
“Did you not imagine Rome would send people to look for me?” Riario kept his tone gentle, off-hand. The truth was he’d forgotten about the potential for help coming. Leo and Vanessa had been his salvation and he’d needed no-one else.
Nico shook his head. “They’re threatening violence.”
Vanessa gave Riario a worried look.
“Bring me something to write on and a quill,” Riario said. “I will reassure this rescue party that I am in no need of assistance. Did you get the name of the leader, Nico?”
Vanessa moved to fetch the writing supplies. Nico frowned. “Captain Rossi,” he said, the hint of question in his voice.
“I know him.” That would make it easier. Riario could include enough detail in the message to make it clear to Rossi that the message was truly from his hand and that he was not being coerced.
Vanessa returned, assisted Riario in getting seated upright enough to clearly compose the message, and gave him the parchment. She held onto the ink well for him to dip the quill into, taking the opportunity to look over his shoulder as he wrote, and he silently commended her for her subtle spying.
Nico paced until the message was complete, dried, tied off with ribbon. Riario did not ask for wax, instead taking a ring from his finger and beckoning Nico forward. He pressed the ring into Nico’s palm and closed the boy’s fingers over it.
“This will be proof of my identity,” Riario said. “Take it and this letter and you will prevent Rossi from sacking Florence in attempt to find me.”
Vanessa put a hand on Nico’s shoulder. “Be careful,” she said, adding, “take Zo.”
Nico nodded and dashed off on his mission.
Vanessa sighed. She would no doubt fret until Nico returned unharmed. Her boundless compassion moved Riario. She truly loved these people. People who Riario had hurt, one way or another. Yet she would not let Riario’s actions prevent her from tending him.
“I should have sent a message,” Riario admitted. The moment the bodies of his guards had been discovered word would have been sent to Rome, search parties dispatched.
“You were in no condition to think clearly,” Vanessa allowed. “But Leo and I should have thought of it. Perhaps we have still averted disaster.”
They waited in tense silence after that, both desperate for Nico’s return.
Finally Nico came back with both Riario’s ring and Zo in tow. Zo folded his arms, stared daggers at Riario.
“Rossi read the letter twice and seemed convinced,” Nico reported. “He’s going to stay in Florence another day or two though.”
Riario promised to send word directly to the Vatican to back up the story he’d told Rossi. He’d partly told the truth about the attack, but had added in some detail about having ensconced himself at the artista’s residence in order to obtain information. If he was on a mission and close to discovering what Leo knew about the Book of Leaves he would be given some leeway.
He wrote a second letter and this time sealed it with wax, pressing his ring into it. Nico took it, and coin from Riario’s blood-stained purse, to send the message via carrier pigeon.
“If you lay a finger on Vanessa I will fucking kill you,” Zo swore before he left to accompany Nico on this quest, the only words he’d spoken the entire time.
Riario said nothing. Vanessa rolled her eyes.
“He means well,” she said.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course,” she said. “I’ve been sitting here for days with no-one to talk to. I’d enjoy some conversation.”
“You said you were a nun. Why is that no longer the case?”
Vanessa laughed. “I wasn’t excommunicated or anything dramatic. The simple answer is Leo happened. The truth is that he showed me something I knew but didn’t want to accept. That there is so much more to the world.”
“More than serving God?”
“I don’t see you being a monk,” she retorted. “You serve the Church without taking Holy Orders. I can serve my community without being a nun.”
She had a point but Riario was enjoying the debate.
“Serving the community by serving them drinks?”
Perhaps she knew he was needling her for a reaction because she laughed. “Yes. Didn’t Jesus himself make sure there was wine enough for a whole wedding party?”
Riario smiled. “How does one go from the nunnery to a tavern, exactly?”
“Well, Leo convinced me to leave the convent so he had to take responsibility for me, or so I told him when I showed up on his doorstep.” She was warming to the story, eyes bright with recollection. “The next project he sold – and believe me, I nagged at him to complete it because you know how he is for leaving things unfinished – he used the profits from it to buy the tavern. He gave it to me.”
“An entire tavern?”
She nodded but her expression was clouded now. “My own business, complete with somewhere to live. And his duty was fulfilled.”
“But that wasn’t what you wanted,” Riario said softly. He hadn’t got this far in life without learning to read people.
“It never occurred to Leo that I might have wanted something different,” she said. “Leo thinks a woman can run a business but he never wondered if I might have been his apprentice, learning alongside Nico. Anatomy, science – I’m not squeamish and I’d be better at nursing the sick the more I knew.”
"I see."
Vanessa stared down at her lap. “It’s not that I lost my faith. It isn’t that I don’t love God,” she said. “But I love His creation. This world, these people. I serve Him by experiencing the world, learning about it, helping people. And you know, the tavern isn’t so bad. People talk to me and sometimes I can give them advice. I don’t regret the choice I made to leave the convent. I just wish I'd had more choices afterwards."
Riario considered this. “I know something of what it is to have your fate decided by others,” he said. “To serve from duty not choice, and to walk the path you are told to.”
She nodded. “It isn’t wrong to question your faith,” she said. “And it isn’t wrong to question how you express that faith and the things you might have done in your passion to serve.”
Riario narrowed his eyes. “You’re talking about my torturing young Nico.”
She shrugged. “I’m sure there are many questionable things you’ve done because you thought it necessary,” she said. “And your Holy Father will absolve you for them all.”
He swallowed. “I took no pleasure in interrogating him.”
“I should hope not.” Vanessa stood, stretched, changed the subject. “It’s a pleasant day. Would you like to try and sit outside for a while? Some sunshine would be beneficial in my opinion.”
She'd cleaned his trousers and washed and repaired his jacket, but his shirt had been ruined and so Vanessa handed over a shirt that she'd purchased from the market with his own coin. It looked suspiciously like something Leo would wear but, to Riario's relief, it actually fastened up in the front. There were also some fresh undergarments and his boots, recently polished.
Riario decided to forgo his jacket, but managed to get on the rest of his clothes, though he had to leave the top button of his trousers open, and needed Vanessa's help to put on his boots.
At last however, with some further assistance to get outside, Riario found himself seated on a bench in a sheltered spot. Vanessa gave him the book of poetry she’d finished reading and chose something else for herself. They sat in quiet companionship, reading. Later, after lunch, their conversation was deliberately more light-hearted and steered away from any controversial topics.
It had, overall, been a pleasant day.
That evening, when Riario was sitting at the dining table across from Leo, he said, “Why did you give Vanessa a tavern? Her talents might have been used elsewhere.”
Leo shrugged, stirring his soup. “She’s not much of a seamstress and she didn’t want to be a cook or a blacksmith. I thought the tavern would let her meet people and have a good turnover of profit. Why, what else did you have in mind?”
“Could you not have been her maestro, the way you tutor young Nico?”
Leo coughed into his soup. “Perhaps you injured your head as well as your side,” he said. “Educate a woman in my blasphemous studies? I never thought to have you suggest such a thing.”
Riario ate the rest of his soup in silence, fuming a little on Vanessa’s behalf.
*
Vanessa was subdued the next day. When Riario made cautious enquiries she said, “Giuliano de Medici came to the tavern last week and we talked. I was hoping to see him again but apparently he came by the night I wasn’t there and now people are talking about him seeing someone else, not to mention getting betrothed to Camilla Pazzi.”
“You missed seeing him because you were with me,” Riario said, feeling an unexpected pang of guilt.
She sighed. “It doesn’t matter. It was foolish to ever think of it. He deserves a noblewoman and his family needs him to marry well. What hope could I ever have entertained? Me, a tavern wench!”
Riario sat up, wincing. “Do not downplay your gifts,” he said sternly. “Any man would be blessed to have you at his side.” If Giuliano and Leo didn’t appreciate her talents, then maybe Riario ought to take Vanessa with him back to Rome when it was time to go.
The thought of leaving weighed more heavily on him than he could ever have expected.
She stared at him. “Leo said you were being odd,” she said. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I am seeing clearly,” Riario returned. More clearly he had for a long time.
*
If he enjoyed his time with Vanessa, Riario cherished the time he spent with Leo even more. As he recovered his strength he verbally sparred with Leo and they had many a fierce argument. Increasingly those arguments began to settle into finding common ground, respecting each other’s viewpoints, and coming to new conclusions.
Riario sent another message to Rome, assuring the Holy Father that he was making progress.
He was, just not the sort of progress he was supposed to be focussed on.
The longer he spent with Leo, Vanessa, Nico (who, after Riario apologised for the Widow’s Tear incident, had accepted his presence in their lives) and even Zo (who still distrusted him, which was fair enough, the feeling was mutual), the more Riario found himself wondering if he was on the right side.
The Pope was not the true Pope. Riario had tried to believe that his father, who now sat upon the Papal Throne, was the rightful holder of that office, and that his plans were for the best. But perhaps he was wrong. Perhaps his uncle should truly be the head of the Church.
For the moment Riario turned his attention to the Book of Leaves. Surely obtaining it would give him the answers he desired. Once it was in his possession things would be clearer.
To gain the Book he needed Leo. And Leo would not relinquish the artefact without a fight.
Riario would have to work with him, not only to find the Book, but to use it wisely. The thought no longer disturbed him; quite the opposite. He and Leo were more alike than he’d first thought, stubborn and opinionated, but both striving for something greater than themselves. That their debates were ending more peaceably spoke of a future where they could put aside their egos and make choices that were truly for the good of all. And Vanessa, who they both cared for, both respected, would surely help them decide on the best course if they came to an impasse.
Riario had asked Vanessa one day if she'd ever thought of living in Rome.
"No. Florence is home. Leo is home, in a way. Rome is not home," she said.
That a person rather than a location could mean "home" was a new thought and the more he mused on it, the more he found it to be true. If Vanessa would not leave with him, then Riario would have to stay in Florence, or, more accurately, with Leo.
Hard as it was to admit it, he didn't want to leave Leo either.
"Where is home, Leonardo?" Riario asked casually as they sat outside that evening, looking at the stars.
"I'm not sure," Leo said. "I was born in Vinci, so in a way that's home. But Florence is where I live, a city that appreciates my gifts, so it is home. Maybe home is more of a feeling. Somewhere you feel inspired. Somewhere you feel safe. Somewhere you feel loved."
"Someone, rather than somewhere? Is that possible?"
Leo shrugged. "I suppose so," he said at length. "Why?"
Riario stared up at the sky rather than at Leo. "You have made me feel safe here," he said, and he didn't say he felt loved, even though, due to Vanessa and Leo's ministrations, he did.
"This is not your home," Leo said firmly. "What about Rome?"
"It is far away," Riario said at last. "I do not mean to impose on you."
"You're not," Leo said quickly. "Riario. I don't mind you being here. I don't want you to injure yourself again by rushing off to the Vatican."
Was that his only concern or was there more?
Riario considered, placed one hand on his injured side and shifted position, grimacing though there was no pain from the movement. If Leo thought he was well enough to leave then Riario might have to go back to Rome and he was not ready to do so.
"I think I need to go inside," he said and got to his feet, brushing off Leo's attempt to help, and limping inside.
Riario lay awake most of the night, wondering when exactly he'd fallen in love with Leo, and what that meant for his quest, and what the hell he was supposed to do now.
*
Riario had progressed from sitting outside to going for short walks, visiting the tavern, and now to some gentle outdoor work.
Today, Leo was cutting up logs for the woodstore. Riario watched with appreciation. He no longer thought his admiration of Leo’s body was sinful. To respect his strength was a righteous thing.
Leo lifted a bundle of wood and walked past Riario, bumping into him. It was not like Leo to be clumsy and worse, there was no apology, just a frown. Riario realised his mistake, one hand going protectively but belatedly to his side.
Leo dropped the logs and regarded Riario with suspicion. “You’re lying to me. Why?”
Riario had no immediate answer. Leo was not one to tolerate silence.
“How long have you been healed up?”
Riario lifted one shoulder in a guilty shrug. Turning the anger back at Leo he said, “Maybe you’d have noticed if you’d been paying attention.”
Leo made a noise of indignation. “You didn’t, as I recall, ever need me fussing over you!”
“Since when does what I want matter to you!”
Leo made to retort, paused. When he next spoke it was with surprise. “Are we fighting? The way friends do? Family. Lovers.”
Riario understood the question. He knew that the way families and friends fought – the way, for example Leo bickered with Zo and Vanessa – was supposed to be different from the way one argued with an enemy. There was love underneath the anger and irritation, an expectation that whatever was said there would be a resolution, that no-one was going anywhere, at least not for long.
It was not that way for Riario. He’d known little affection or loyalty not borne from fear or sycophantic motives. And yet he’d come to have a taste of that kind of trust, debating with Vanessa, and now daring to express not only his opinions but his weaknesses to Leo. To admit that he had wanted Leo’s attention in any capacity, that he wanted to matter to Leo the way Leo now mattered to him.
“I need you to be honest with me,” Leo said and it was as if the rest of the world was still, watchful. This moment would decide their future. “What do you want to do next?”
Riario took a moment to answer, moistened his lips. He should have talked of going back to Rome. He could have said he wanted to stay with Leo solely to recover the Book of Leaves and place it in the Vatican archives. He might have sworn false loyalty, fully intending to turn on Leo and steal the Book the moment he got the opportunity.
What he did say though was the truth, God help him.
“I want to accompany you on your quest to find the Book of Leaves. After that, I do not know for sure. But for the moment I want to stay at your side.”
“Because I’m the best chance of finding the Book?” Leo was rightfully cynical.
“It began that way,” Riario admitted. “But I have come to appreciate your genius in new ways. To appreciate you. I came to you when I was wounded because I thought you would help. I have stayed because you went far beyond immediate assistance and let me be a part of your life. Because you and your friends have shown me there are other paths that may be walked. I have come to value your companionship.”
Leo tipped his head. “If you betray me I’ll make that wound I stitched up look like a nick from a barber’s blade,” he said.
“I understand.”
Leo shrugged and the world was in motion again. “All right. But you’ll have to make yourself useful. No standing around barking orders like a fucking nobleman.”
“I am a nobleman.”
“Yes, but we’ll overlook that flaw,” Leo soothed. He gestured. “Start by picking up this wood and putting it in the woodpile. If you’re not injured you can start pulling your weight.”
Riario inclined his head. “As you wish. There is one thing, however. I think Vanessa should come with us, wherever our quest leads.”
“If she wants to,” Leo said dubiously.
“I believe she will.”
Leo eyed him suspiciously. “I don’t want you both ganging up on me, quoting scripture or looking disappointed at me,” he warned.
“As you wish,” Riario said again.
“I’m guessing that’s nobleman for ‘fuck you’ but whatever,” Leo said cheerfully and went to fetch some water.
It was indeed a euphemistic phrase, and it could mean not just "fuck you" but "let me fuck you", but neither of them were ready to acknowledge that connotation. It could also mean something less direct, and a lot sweeter, but Riario would need to say the euphemism many more times before he could truly declare “I love you.”
For now, he knew the truth and he strongly suspected Leo had similar feelings, and that was enough.