just fall | ✓

28.

For my twentieth birthday, there was quite a celebration. Just like there had been the year prior, for my nineteenth, and the year before that, when mi famiglia had thrown me a belated birthday party to erase the pain of my actual birthday.

It turned out that Italy was the perfect restart for my mother and I, and we took to it like fish to water. Mi zia, Queen Luciana, and my mother worked together often once my mother had a decent grasp of the Italian language, putting in place systems to help the poor and pull them out of poverty, especially in the south. Mi zio, King Giovanni, and Salvatore taught me everything they could about diplomacy from the moment my lessons had begun, and I spent much of my time assisting them.

I never did go to the Illéan wedding. There was only one, for Mason and Aquia; Alexander never took a wife. 

Salvatore had fought hard to stay single and succeeded, but Gia had no such luck; she would be married to her betrothed in two months, though she was happier than she acted. She and most of the family had gone to Princess Clara and Prince Haydn's wedding earlier in the year, but Salvatore and I had stayed in Rome to keep things running. My mother liked to joke that we were thick as thieves, a phrase that sadly didn't translate well in Italian.

When Salvatore, myself, and our friends were intoxicated enough, we stumbled out of the palace and into the streets of Rome, deciding in our intoxication that it would be an excellent idea to wander the city and admire its beauty. I hung on the arm of Angelo, the son of a mayor or politician of some sort and a lifelong friend of Salvatore's. We had kissed a few times in the past, Angelo and I, but he, like Domenico, understood that it was all fun and likely wouldn't be going any farther than that. They all howled with laughter each time they recalled the Illéan abstinence laws, joking that Cassiana è una puritana, eccome! 

Like they were doing at that moment.

Greta replied, "Macché!" As always.

Carlota added, "Sì?" As she had the first time they'd said it, though without the quizzical look at me, as if to ask if I truly was a prude or if they were teasing.

And a laughing Margherita said, "Peggio per te!" As a joking reference to what Salvatore had told them when they expressed their sadness over my disinterest.

"Piantala!" I snapped at them, the command broken by laughter and no longer as angry as it had once been. It made everyone laugh even harder, and I had to lean harder on Angelo to support myself. Salvatore wiped some tears from his eyes.

We wandered around Rome in a stupor, filling the night with our terrible jokes and our echoing laughter, and it was a miracle we ever managed to find our way back to the palace by dawn.

☼

Thankfully, none of us were prone to hangovers, and we were wide awake and well-dressed for breakfast at eight in the morning. We'd all had a whopping two hours of sleep and didn't look it. Salvatore winked at me from across the breakfast table, the only sign that we'd been drinking and wandering the slight paleness to his cheeks.

"I hope you all slept well last night," my mother said tensely. "We have guests arriving this afternoon."

"Excuse me?" I said. "What guests?"

My aunt and uncle exchanged a look with my mother. She turned back to me and said, "The Illéans."

I just about choked on my breakfast, and Carlota gave me a smack between my shoulder blades to held the food go down. It worked, and I chased it with some coffee. "Che? Why did no one tell me sooner?" Salvatore was just as confused as I was, thank God, or I would've had to kill him.