She contorted herself atop the stool so that she could get a better view of her hips and backside. Cellulite was noticeably absent from her thighs.

I don’t know what they gave me, but it must have been a very strong drug.

Worried she might have been assaulted, Raven examined her skin for any signs of trauma. She found nothing.

She cautiously parted her legs, slipping her hand between them in order to check for any tenderness. She breathed a sigh of relief when all seemed normal.

Of course, if I’m hallucinating my appearance, I could be hallucinating the absence of trauma.

Raven wondered if all victims of hallucination were so reasonable, and once again, she attributed both effects to the drug she’d no doubt been given.

She pulled on her bathrobe, though it dwarfed her now smaller size, and picked up her cell phone, quickly realizing that it was out of power. She moved to her desk with the intention of picking up the cord to charge her phone. A glance at her computer screen revealed that it was Monday morning. She didn’t know how she’d forgotten her entire weekend, but she needed to skip checking her e-mail and get moving if she was going to make it to her job at the Uffizi by eight o’clock.

She gulped her coffee and dressed, pulling on an old pair of yoga pants and a T-shirt because they were the only items in her limited wardrobe that wouldn’t be ridiculously oversized. Hurriedly, she brushed her hair and her teeth, switching off her music and tossing her cell phone and charger cord into her knapsack.

She tried to find her favorite sneakers, but gave up after a few moments, thrusting her feet into a pair of casual black shoes that had been carelessly tossed into her closet. She’d search for the sneakers under the bed later.

Consequently, she didn’t see the unfamiliar box that was hidden below where she slept, just out of sight.

As she locked the door to her flat and stepped onto the landing, she saw Dolcezza, her neighbor’s cat.

“Buongiorno, Dolcezza.” Raven smiled at the animal and reached out a hand to pet her.

The cat withdrew, hissing and arching its back.

“Dolcezza, what’s the matter?” Raven crouched, making another attempt to approach the cat, but it continued hissing, thrashing its tail wildly and lashing out with its paws.

At that moment, Signora Lidia DiFabio opened the door to her apartment and called for the cat, who raced past her legs as if a demon from hell were chasing it.

“Good morning.” Raven waved to her neighbor, wondering how she would react to her change in appearance.

“Good morning, my dear.” Lidia smiled.

“How are you this morning?”

Lidia rubbed at her temple. “Oh, a little tired. I just haven’t been feeling well these past few days.”

Raven came a few steps closer. “Can I help?”

“Oh, no. Bruno will be here later. I’m just going to go and lie down. Enjoy your day.”

Raven waved good-bye to her neighbor and clambered down the stairs. She was surprised that Lidia hadn’t seemed to notice her appearance or new, slimmer figure. Perhaps it was because Lidia wasn’t wearing her glasses.

Raven was even more surprised by the cat’s sudden change of temper. She’d always been on affectionate terms with Dolcezza and had frequently fed and cuddled the animal. Their relationship had never been anything but friendly.

Normally she descended the flight of stairs in her building like a turtle, moving slowly with the aid of her cane. On this morning, she ran.

It was liberating to be able to move without the burden of added weight or the pain she normally experienced. Without thinking much about it, she jogged all the way from her flat in Santo Spirito and across the Ponte Santa Trinita.

Then she stopped.

Angelo, the homeless man who was usually seated next to the bridge, was absent.

Raven took a moment to look for him, wondering if he’d merely changed location, but he was nowhere to be found. His belongings, which were normally placed next to the bridge in one favorite spot, were also gone.

She felt a prickly feeling on the back of her neck. In all the time she’d lived in Santo Spirito, Angelo was seated next to the bridge morning and evening.

She made a mental note to stop by the Franciscan mission, which he sometimes visited, in order to check on him.

Glancing at her watch and seeing she had mere moments before she was supposed to start work, Raven continued running to the Uffizi, a distance of one and a half kilometers. The sensation of her feet hitting the pavement, the jarring of her lower legs and knees—all these feelings were eagerly embraced.

A gentle breeze caressed her cheek and hair as it spilled over her shoulders and knapsack. She felt stronger, bolder, more confident. She felt as if she’d been given a new body and a new outlook.

With every step, she grew less and less concerned about what had caused such a dramatic reversal of her bad fortune.

Consequently, she was unaware of the mysterious figure who’d been shadowing her since she left her building.

It was the happiest morning of her life.

Chapter Three

The Prince climbed the stairs to his bedroom in the Palazzo Riccardi, an old Medici palace. He’d returned the wounded lark to her world. Now he returned to his.

And what a world it was—dark, violent, destructive.

As he entered the room, he caught sight of his reflection and pushed a few wayward strands of blond hair from his forehead. He never spent long looking at himself, despite the fact that his body was far more attractive now than it had been in life.

Favor is deceitful, and beauty is vain.

Funny how he could still quote Scripture. Funny how he, who had once been a servant of God, was now counted among the Church’s enemies.

He frowned, thinking of a beautiful face with green eyes.

He pushed her image aside. He’d recklessly interfered in human affairs because of a centuries-old memory. Because of another beautiful face with haunting eyes…

He scrubbed his face with both hands. His body never tired but his mind needed rest. On this morning, he wanted nothing other than to spend hours in quiet meditation. But that would not be possible. He’d scented Aoibhe the moment he’d entered the palace, and she was behind him.

“You’ve been hiding.” She spoke to her erstwhile lover in English, rolling to her side on the large bed and absolutely neglecting to cover her naked body.

(She had few virtues. Modesty was not among them.)

Dawn was just peeking over the horizon. In a few hours the lark, no longer wounded, would awake in her apartment. But at this moment, the Prince forced himself to forget her and gazed hungrily at Aoibhe’s naked form, her firm, full breasts and long, tempting red hair.

He licked his lips. “Good morning to you, too. How did you know I’d be here?”

“I guessed. You’ve been in that impenetrable fortress of yours for days. I knew you’d have to feed eventually. Then you’d come here.”

“I thought I changed the locks.” He pulled the blackout shades over the windows. The action was for her comfort, not his.

Unbeknownst to the others, he could brave the sunlight.

Aoibhe rested her head on an upturned hand, looking remarkably like a Renaissance painting.

“You did. I wandered into the museum and persuaded one of the servants to allow me upstairs. I would have come to you at the fortress, but as you know, I can’t pass through the gates.”

The Prince ignored her pout, his gray eyes narrowing. “Is the servant dead?”

“Of course not. Merely—indisposed.” She lifted a pillow and threw it at him. “I wouldn’t kill one of your humans. At least, not without asking.”