Page 53 of Broken Crown

Welcome to the family. Here's how you duck.

"I need some air," I whispered.

Arabella nodded toward the end of the corridor. "That way takes you to the main staircase. The guards at the front door are probably watching the show by now." A small, knowing smile. "Everyone always watches the show."

I took her advice and ran.

Not because I thought I could escape. I knew I wouldn’t. I just needed to move. To not have to think for a minute. To put space between us.

I tore through the endless palazzo rooms, past towering globes and faded frescoes, my heart pounding louder than my footsteps. I didn’t stop until I hit the white marble staircase and took it fast, barely touching each step on the way down.

Not free. Just gone. For now.

As I neared the outer double doors, I breathlessly called out to the two security guards on duty, “Go now! She has a knife!”

By the time I got to the bottom of the stairs, they had already sprinted halfway up them, guns drawn.

I burst through the outer doors and filled my lungs with the chilled night air. It was my first full breath in hours.

Knowing I didn't have a moment to spare before it was discovered I was gone, I took off running down the cobblestone street, my heels clacking against the ancient stones.

The air bit through my thin dress, raising goose bumps across my exposed skin.

Each gasp of air burned in my lungs, visible in small puffs of condensation that trailed behind me.

Rome at night was a labyrinth of narrow alleyways and sudden openings into piazzas.

The amber glow of streetlamps cast long shadows across buildings the color of aged parchment and burnt sienna.

I darted among couples strolling arm in arm, past trattorias where the scent of garlic and wine spilled onto the streets along with laughter and animated conversation.

"Attenzione! Scusi, per favore!" I murmured in Italian when I nearly collided with a waiter carrying a tray of aperitifs.

Locals sitting at outdoor cafés stared in shock at me. I was sure I made quite the spectacle—a woman in an evening gown with no coat, running as though demons chased her.

An elderly woman clutched her rosary beads tighter as I passed, muttering to herself.

A group of young men paused their conversation, one calling out to ask if I was okay, but I was already gone, disappearing into the next shadow-filled alley.

My legs carried me instinctively toward the sound of rushing water in the distance.

The splashing grew louder as I emerged from a narrow street into the open space that housed the Trevi Fountain.

Despite it being November and chilly, crowds of people surrounded the famous landmark.

It was the usual mix of tourists and locals going about their business, as well as all the stray cats Rome was known for. They preyed upon the sentiments of the tourists for bits of food and the occasional rub under the chin.

The massive baroque masterpiece loomed above me, its white marble gleaming under strategic lighting that made the water appear an impossible shade of turquoise.

I couldn't help but marvel at its beauty, even in my distressed state.

Neptune's commanding figure dominated the center, his chariot pulled by seahorses guided by tritons. Cascading water swallowed the hum of the crowd, enveloping us until the voices faded to nothing more than a distant hum beneath the rush and roar.

Attempting to blend in, I stared at the imposing fountain and tried to imagine I was one of the carefree tourists.

In many ways, I still was.

Despite all the confusion and drama of my weeks here, I did adore Rome. It was hard not to feel as though I'd finally come home.