They reclined unmoving in the bed. Sleep sat heavily on Contessina's eyelids, but she would not allow it to lower them. Cosimo's eyes were shut but his mind was awake.

"The gardens look well taken care of," the man said.

"Do not act as though anything is different, Cosimo," his wife spoke, her voice filled to the brim with exhaustion. "If you want to have small talk, have it with the whore you brought from Venice." Cosimo took a deep breath. Riling Contessina up would only worsen her condition. Allowing himself to be angered would worsen his. He turned to his back.

"She and I have nothing to talk about." Cosimo furrowed his brow. He'd been saying so many wrong things as of late. "That is not what I meant. I meant to say I do not like speaking with her. She is boring and witless. She is not you."

Contessina knew there was sentiment intended with his words but, nonetheless, they felt empty and meaningless. She got out of bed.

"Contessina?" Cosimo's voice suddenly filled with worry.

"Just getting water," she responded. Images of her bloodied nightgown and sobbing prayers flashed in Cosimo's mind.

"I had a nightmare the other night," he said before he knew the words had left his mouth. "Of the night I found you praying."

Contessina nodded, taking a sip of water as she did.

"It was so real," Cosimo continued. "I came to your chambers to see if I'd find you lying on the wrong side of the bed, my mother standing over you."

"And what did you find?" Contessina returned to bed.

"Just you."

They were silent.

"Memories are harmful, Cosimo," his wife said softly. "They draw up old wounds you forget are not healed."

Cosimo nodded though his wife could not see.

"It's been two decades," Contessina continued. "Those memories. Those losses. They are fresh and bleeding." Cosimo found his wife's hand in the dark.

"We have Piero," he said.

"We have Piero," Contessina confirmed.

There was silence for what felt like eternities. Contessina's breaths became deep and restful. Cosimo stared up at the darkness, allowing his mind to draw shapes where there were none. His mind wandered. Nearly an hour had passed when Contessina's hand tightly gripped his own and pulled away quickly.

"I'm sorry," she muttered out of habit, not expecting her husband to be awake.

"What were you dreaming of?" Cosimo whispered, turning on his side again.

"I don't remember," Contessina mumbled, still somewhat dreaming. "Go back to sleep, my love." Cosimo smiled; it was the first time she'd uttered even the slightest of endearments to him since his return.

"Contessina?" Cosimo raised his voice softly above a whisper. Contessina hummed in response. Cosimo hesitated. He'd turned the question over in his mind like cloth in a whirlpool for days.

"While I was away, did you share more with Ezio Contarini than just flirtation?" Cosimo dreaded the answer. The thought of her wrapped in the arms of another man aired a rage in him that had no equal.

"It was just a kiss, Cosimo," Contessina responded, slightly annoyed. "Nothing more."

"He asked you to go away with him." Contessina turned to face her husband though the moonlight was not enough to make out more than general features.

"He did," she said.

"Had I not intended on returning to Florence, or if I had been executed, would you have gone with him?" Cosimo's questions became more impassioned.

"Had I perished by plague and Bianca arrived on your doorstep, would you have invited her in?" Contessina responded. Cosimo was taken aback.

"I'd not thought of that," he muttered under his breath.

"Ezio and I were young and in love when I married you," Contessina continued. "Seeing him was like tasting a dessert I'd loved as a child. It brought back fond memories, but I'd found I'd lost my taste for it."

Cosimo had heard her words, but his thoughts overtook more of his attention.

"I'd have invited her in," he said more loudly. "I would have wanted to invite Bianca in."

"I would have gone with Ezio," Contessina replied. She'd wished she could have been more crass. Wished she could have berated Cosimo for the way he had treated her for being kissed by a man she'd once loved when he was away sleeping with a woman he'd just met. Had Bianca shown up, you'd have had her in the courtyard before saying 'Hello.' She did not say it. She knew Cosimo knew that is what would occur; Cosimo knew his wife was aware of his true feelings.

Suddenly Cosimo let out a chuckle.

"What is it?" His wife was wide awake now.

"I was just thinking of our wedding night." Contessina was furious.

"I told you," she spat. "You can visit your whore for that tonight."

Cosimo chuckled more.

"Not that. I was just thinking of how young we were." He exhaled a hard breath.


The party had ended, and Cosimo had been bid goodnight by the party-goers. Contessina said a tearful farewell to her parents. Her father kissed her cheeks hard, wiping the tears from them with his hands.

"Be well, Contessina," he said to her. Her mother whispered something in her ear that made the newlywed laugh.

She'd been given every preparatory speech prepared by every motherly figure in the house that evening. Her mother had prepared her for an unpleasant discomfort. Piccarda had whispered to her about children. The few noblewomen her age had told her of the intoxicating anxiety that comes along with the wedding night. No one had informed her of how to go about wifely duties, though.

She was not oblivious to the ceremony of man and wife left to the couple after their wedding, she'd known for years about it. The act itself was not a mystery in her mind. It was the ritual of it that she was unsure of. How was the act initiated? Was she to do more than just lie on her back and pray for it to be over soon? She and Ezio had been young and in love, but they knew the boundaries that were not to be crossed.

Piccarda had informed her of the little deaths that were required of both she and Cosimo in order for a child to be made. The idea of dying to produce life made little sense to Contessina. How would she know what to do?

Contessina walked slowly towards her new chambers with her new husband. Giovanni and Piccarda led the way with candles.

"Don't worry," Cosimo whispered to her as they slowly walked behind. "They won't be staying." He was gruff, angry. Fear rose in the woman. Her heart froze.

When they reached the room, Cosimo strode passed his parents through the door. Giovanni took his new daughter-in-law by the arms and kissed her cheeks.

"Goodnight, daughter," he said. Piccarda took her hand and squeezed it. Contessina nodded with a smile in response and followed Cosimo into the chamber. Giovanni closed the door, bidding them one last farewell, and left the couple to their duties.

Cosimo had poured himself a glass of wine. Walking towards the table, Contessina reached for the empty glass but found it to also be filled with wine. She drank her fill. Her stomach quivered. She'd not spent more than five minutes alone with Cosimo since she'd met him.

As a blossoming teenager, she'd imagined her wedding night but the anxiety of it all was not incorporated into her fantasy. She did not know Cosimo. They had no history the way she and Ezio did. He was not the man she wished to be spending her wedding night with.

Cosimo set his empty glass down.

"I presume you've been informed of what is to happen tonight," he said, pouring more wine into his glass. Contessina nodded, putting her glass to her mouth but only letting the wine touch her lips.

"Do you know what to expect?" His tone was odd. He was not cold but something in his voice lacked the acknowledgment of her consternation.

"I've been told it will not be enjoyable." Contessina masked her hesitancy with simple forwardness. Cosimo smiled as he released a soft chuckle.

"It likely will not be."

Contessina's husband topped off her glass of wine before setting the empty decanter on a tray and placing it outside the chamber.

"You should finish your wine," he said, closing the door behind him. "It will ease your mind." Contessina held up her glass, toasting her new husband as a jest, and downed the glass in a single gulp. Cosimo did the same. They stood, silently wading in the tension in the room.

"Your things have been placed in drawers." Cosimo motioned to the chest of drawers tucked away in the corner of the room. "You may want to change into your nightgown."
"I'll need help with the laces." Contessina moved her hair to show the tightly laced back of her dress. "I'll ring for a maid."

Before she could pull the rope to ring, Cosimo stepped behind her and untied the lace. Contessina's dress became loose. The woman tensed as she felt her dress become less secure with each tug. Leave the laces in, she thought as she felt her new husband pull the string from the dress.

With her back to him, Contessina quickly removed her dress and changed into her nightgown. She'd expected to turn and come face-to-face with a stranger, but she found Cosimo's back to her. Contessina eyed the room for a split second, looking for her robe while also taking in her surroundings. She did not spy her covering.

"Are you ready?" Cosimo asked, turning to face her. The woman did not move.

"The sooner we begin the sooner we shall be done." Cosimo found his way to the bed, walking slowly as if he were taking a stroll next to a quiet stream. Contessina begged her body not to move but her legs followed the man. She slipped into the bed, delicately placing the sheets onto her lap as if he were going to read to her instead of perform a marital act.

Staring at her hands, Contessina heard the sound of fabric against rough skin and the soft thud of clothing being tossed onto the wood floor. Cosimo slid into bed next to her and moved to be positioned above her. She felt his hand on her thigh as he pulled at the fabric of her gown.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. Contessina looked up to see his eyes staring into hers. "I will try to be gentle." He kissed her softly on the lips.

Contessina allowed only a single sound indicating her discomfort leave her body. She turned her head to face the wall, a single tear ran down her cheek.