A Portrait In Shadow by Nicole Jarvis

Author:Nicole Jarvis
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Titan

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The next week, Francesco and Artemisia took his private coach up to Prato. The carriage rattled uncomfortably, but the ride was brisk and easy compared to the last time Artemisia had traveled, the week-long journey she had taken early the previous year to leave Rome.

The public coach had been crowded with bodies. Everyone wore linen to fight the spring heat outside, but a sweaty stink had settled inside the wagon. Artemisia had sat hunched, legs set on either side of her bag to protect it from thieving hands. She had been striking out on her own, leaving Rome along with every person she had ever known. Regrets had crackled through her thoughts like wildfire. It had been a miserable week.

Now, instead of looking over her shoulder toward the past, she was anticipating her destination. Francesco chatted while Artemisia looked out the window, watching the city fade away in favor of rolling yellow hills and dark green cypresses. Drawn by a pair of dark horses, they left after breakfast and arrived just in time for lunch.

The villa was painted a rich ochre, sitting on the ridge like part of the landscape. The view of the shadowed blue mountains was breathtaking. She stood on the balcony with her hands on the rail, breathing deeply. The stench of Florence was only surpassed by that of Rome, even in early November. The oils and candles in her studio were a stringent and temporary mask. She could not recall the last time she had smelled nothing but fresh air.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Francesco asked, coming from behind to wrap his arms around her waist.

“Magical,” she said. “I hadn’t realized how much I had grown accustomed to Florence. It’s the city of my heart, but there’s another world out here. I forget, sometimes, that there’s life beyond the city walls.”

“Exploration is good for the soul,” he agreed.

“I understand now why you travel so much. It’s astounding you ever come home, vostra signoria.”

“It’s not all like this,” he said, pressing a kiss below her ear. “Spend a week on a boat to Egypt with a seasick bunkmate and you’ll realize home has much to offer. Besides, I have someone waiting for me in Florence now.”

Artemisia turned and met his lips. They had no responsibilities calling their names, no pounding city to draw their attention. They spent the afternoon between the bed and the balcony, leaving the windows open so that the mountain air joined them in the sheets.

Despite Artemisia’s protests, Francesco convinced her to hike with him the next morning. “We can stay in bed in Florence,” he pointed out. “You’ll regret not taking advantage of the space while you have it.”

The morning air was crisp in her lungs. Leaves crunched under her shoes, yellow and brown and red. Only the Tuscan cypresses held onto their green despite the changing seasons, dispersed throughout the mountain like stray brushstrokes.

Halfway up the path, Artemisia called for a rest and leaned against a tree, panting. The bark of the cypress was rough against her shoulder, and the crisp smell of resin flooded her senses.

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