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"Is that so?" Caesar raised a faint smile.
Compared to their meeting two years ago, his appearance had become even more youthful. The childlike air was slowly fading, and his once-thin frame was now growing tall and slender.
"Such a pity..." he said slowly. "I suppose I’ll just have to ask her myself."
"What are you talking about?" Lorenzo furrowed his brows. "You’re going to Genoa? Crossing the entire island to negotiate?"
"No, she’s already on her way back to the Roman Church," the young man leaned slightly forward, looking directly into his eyes, his smile tinged with mockery. "Perhaps the younger generation knows better how to handle things, Mr. Medici."
——
Hedy sat by the bed, feeling the constant bumps and jolts.
She was now at sea, and it was clear she was being taken south.
The first thing she did was not to cry out for help, weep, or panic.
Instead, she began to think about who the traitor might be.
The person who had managed to break through several layers of defenses and slipped sleeping pills into her drink was certainly no ordinary individual.
Moreover, her guards were not careless enough to let a stranger waltz in and poison her.
The bottle of wine was one she had brought from Milan, and not only was it something she had personally made, but it was rarely touched by anyone during the journey to Genoa.
Even if there had been something in the wine, the fact that she was swiftly taken from the castle to the outer harbor and sent away meant there had to be someone coordinating things behind the scenes.
—Who could this person be?
She could barely smell any fresh air, as there were no portholes here, and the air was thick with the stench of decaying wood.
Above her, she could hear the sounds of animals rustling, and there was a faint, pungent odor lingering.
—She was packed into a cargo ship, sent away under the cover of a load of goods.
Leonardo was probably frantic by now.
Hedy sighed and tapped her forehead with her fingers.
She needed to think through these issues clearly.
Could it be Dechio?
Dechio had once been her personal maid and now worked as her secretary, so she knew everything about her.
But it wasn’t her. Hedy straightened up slightly and let out a slow breath.
If Dechio were a traitor, she would have acted long ago, not let things drag on this far.
And she wouldn’t have used such a risky method—there were a thousand ways that girl could have struck while being so close to her.
—Machiavelli? Michelangelo? Or those mercenaries?
The answer was not clear.
Hedy was deeply worried about the safety of Genoa, concerned for all her friends.
More terrifying than the war that could break out at any moment was the enemy lurking among her friends.
