Sheen on the Silk - Anne Perry [149]
Love? A physically immature eunuch, with a man like Dandolo?
Then like lightning, a wild idea cut across the darkness, dazzling Zoe with its obviousness, and she began to laugh. Perfectly clear now—and yet impossible. But she believed it: Anastasius was not a eunuch at all—he was as much a woman as Zoe herself! Her love for Dandolo was just the same love Zoe would have had for him, had she been the right age and he not a Venetian. Or maybe even if he had been, just not a Dandolo.
Anastasius, or whatever her name was, stood frozen to the floor, staring.
Zoe went on laughing. This person who had been so sad and confusing as half a man was infinitely understandable as a woman.
Finally, Zoe regained control of herself and walked over to the wine and the glasses. She poured a glass to the brim and held it out, offering it.
“No, thank you,” Anastasius said coldly.
Zoe shrugged and drank the glass half-empty herself, then filled the other glass. She offered the first glass again.
This time Anastasius took it, drank it to the lees, then put it down and turned on her heel and walked out.
Zoe drank her own glass slowly, savoring it, thinking. She had learned something of delicious and immeasurable value. The power it gave her over Anastasius—no, Anastasia—was limitless. But before she attempted to use it, she would learn all she could about this woman who had chosen to deny herself the greatest natural asset she had. What did she want that she would pay this terrible price for it?
Zoe’s mind raced. She had said she was from Nicea, but was that true? Probably. Only a fool created unnecessary lies. The more Zoe thought about it, the more it intrigued her. What passion was immense enough for such a masquerade?
Anastasia was interested in Justinian Lascaris. Was Zarides her true name, or was she too a Lascaris, part of another imperial family? Wife of Justinian? If so, she did not love him, or she would not have so rashly risked her life to save the Venetian. Beyond doubt, she loved the Venetian.
Sister of Justinian! That was what Zoe had glimpsed before. A sister wanting to prove his innocence.
And was Justinian innocent? Zoe had thought not, but could she be wrong? Was there something else she had not guessed at?
The more Zoe could learn about Anastasia the better.
She would also learn more about Giuliano Dandolo’s mother and her life and death, so she could twist the knife of pain in his heart. Anything that he could not disprove would do.
Fifty-three
A WEEK AFTER THAT, ANNA RETURNED HOME TO FIND SIMONIS waiting for her with a strip of paper in her hand.
“From Zoe Chrysaphes,” Simonis said, pursing her lips.
“Thank you.” She put down her bag of herbs and oils and opened the paper.
Anastasius,
Unfortunately I have a slight wound in my leg which needs a surgeon’s attention. Please call on me immediately you receive this.
Zoe Chrysaphes
“When did this come?” Anna asked.
“Less than an hour ago. Half an hour, perhaps.” Simonis raised her eyebrows. “Are you going?”
“I am,” Anna replied. Simonis knew perfectly well that ethically she could not do anything else, nor would she easily survive the damage to her reputation were she to refuse.
What she found upon her arrival at Zoe’s was the one thing Anna had never considered. Giuliano was there, leaning casually against the sill of the great window that looked across to the Bosphorus. He straightened up with slight discomfort when Anna came in, and she saw the flush on his cheeks. He acknowledged her courteously, with no shadow in his face from their last conversation or Gregory’s murder.
“Ah!” Zoe said with clear pleasure. “Thank you for coming, Anastasius. I have a deep spelk in my leg. I am afraid if it is not removed and treated, it may poison me.” She pulled the hem of her gold-colored tunic higher and exposed an angry wound with a spelk of wood sticking out of it and a crust