Rising High || THE COUSIN'S WAR

Chapter III

March 30, 1430, Florence...

A little girl with blonde hair held a bag to her lips and blew inside of it, causing the bag to expand before she sealed the top and placed it on her father's seat. There was the sound of footsteps and she darted into a closet, peeking through the crack to watch as a man walked inside.

She sucked in her breath and he turned to look right in her direction. Oh no...don't move. Don't move, the girl thought frantically as he walked closer. She shut her eyes tightly and gripped her hands into fists as if willing herself to turn invisible. Lorenzo de Medici, her uncle, paused at the closet door before yanking them wide open, causing her to tumble out as he stepped to the side.

"Luisa," he said wryly as she looked up at him as she lay on her back. "Yes, Uncle Lorenzo?" She asked, attempting to look as innocent as possible as he shook his head in exasperation.

"What are you doing here?" "I was exploring," replied Luisa quickly and her uncle arched an eyebrow. "You remind me of myself when I was your age. Who do you plan to terrorize with your little toys?"

Luisa pondered over his question, wondering if she should trust him. Finally, she got up off the ground and dusted herself off. "Papa. He's so uptight and Mother is busy running the bank behind his back. This house is stuffy! I want it to be fun again," she said before holding out a hand to her partner in crime. "You promise not to tell Papa?"

Lorenzo smiled at her and took her hand. "Of course, Piccolo Piantagrane," he said with a wink as he kissed her hand in a playful manner before straightening. Luisa paused too before realizing that Lorenzo had heard the light footsteps of her father. "Your father is coming, you should hide in the closet," he said quickly and she frowned.

"But you found me there! Wouldn't it be better to hide somewhere else?" Lorenzo shook his head at his niece's protests. "I'll make sure to keep it a secret," he promised with a smirk and Luisa looked at him, a serious look in her eyes. "I'll kill you if you tell," she swore and he laughed, pushing her back inside the closet. "I don't doubt that, now get inside before your father finds you."

She shot Lorenzo one last glare before wiggling inside and closed the closet doors again as the door to her father's office opened. Cosimo de Medici had seemed to age another ten years since his father, Giovanni, had died. It had been the work and tense relations he had with everyone around him. He was not the same man that Luisa and Piero had played with.

"Lorenzo, why are you in here?" He questioned, his voice tired.

"Uh..." Lorenzo trailed off and Luisa realized that he probably was actually here to talk about politics and affairs of the bank, but he didn't want to bring it up around her. That set a frown on Luisa's face. She wasn't loose-lipped and educated in the ways of Latin, French, Spanish, and English. Her teeth ground together, before quickly reminding herself that it was not her place.

Lorenzo couldn't lie himself out of a basket and preferred to use brute strength, bleeding into his love to show off. Luisa had observed this since she was a child, her father was harder to figure out though. Pacing, silent, thinking, and sometimes frighteningly cold, Cosimo de Medici was a blossoming master of politics. But sometimes Luisa felt like there was more to him, after all, during her snooping there were pictures in charcoal of domes and scenery. Perhaps she would be able to coax out that man and turn that little burning ember into a flame that would warm her mother and their home.

Luisa peeked through the crack of the closet doors as Cosimo sat down on his chair. Anticipation pounded at her heart like a gong and a grin grew across her face as there was a moment of silence before a loud 'bang' came out from under her father. The head of the Medici family jumped like a frightened cat and practically kicked the chair to the other side of the room. Cosimo's chest heaved and Lorenzo burst into laughter, making his brother send him a look of disapproval.