The spring and early summer days passed peacefully and pleasantly. Juliet bloomed with the roses, thoroughly happy now that she had her garden again. Letters from Benvolio arrived with surprising frequency, but it had been over a month since I’d received a letter from my family, and I was beginning to worry.

Juliet and Rosaline were lounging in the shade on the edge of the courtyard, fluttering their fans like spasmodic butterflies.

“Really, Juliet, I don’t know how you manage to keep your complexion so perfect in this weather,” drawled Rosaline. “Especially with the way you spend so much time out in that little garden of yours.”

Juliet pouted. “I don’t spend that much time. Mother won’t let me be out there nearly as long as I like. She makes me delegate most of it to Anthony, and he doesn’t know a rose from a weed! They only promoted him to gardener because no one else would come to fill the vacancy. The only thing Anthony’s good at is locking up at night.”

“Indeed.’’ Rosaline oozed sympathy. “Good help is so difficult to find,” she added, glaring at me. I took a step back and concentrated on the way the blue silk curtains caught the light, pretending I hadn’t heard.

“Are you planning to come to our party, Rosaline?” Juliet asked. “Mother says that it’s going to be quite lavish.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world! Your family’s parties are always wonderful. I’m ordering a gown of Venetian brocade just for the occasion. Have you given any thought to what you’re going to wear yet?”

Juliet shook her head, her pretty golden curls bouncing gravely. “Oh, no, I usually don’t decide until the last minute. It’ll have to be something red or pink of course, for the family color. I certainly wouldn’t recommend wearing any Montague blue.” She cast a pointed glance at the curtains. “Father would be quite put out.”

Rosaline nodded. “Ah, certainly. Fortunately, there are other colors. Mine will be green, I believe, although you never know with these foreign tailors. You know, Juliet, I don’t think you’re quite grown-up enough for red yet.”

“I’m thirteen!” said Juliet indignantly. “I’m practically grown! What’s the latest fashion news from Venice?”

“They’ve put the sumptuary laws in place again,” moaned Rosaline.

“Dear me, that’s terrible,” said Juliet, sounding as grieved as if her parents had died.

“But they’ll remove them when the Duke of Milan comes to visit, so we’ve nothing to fear,” said Rosaline, brightening at the thought.

They had the same conversation every time we came.

“I don’t see why they shouldn’t have sumptuary laws in place for servants,” Rosaline continued. I stared at the tiled mosaic on the floor, a relic from when Rome ruled Italy, but I knew from experience that Rosaline had given me another supercilious glare. “It’s positively dangerous to let them adorn themselves with such fine feathers. Such laws keep them in their place.”

“I imagine that’s how the Venetian rulers feel about the nobility,’’ Juliet said.

I looked up, surprised by the intelligence of her remark. Juliet smiled ever so slightly. “So what colors are we not allowed to wear this time?”

“ Purple and gold, I believe.”

Juliet sighed and fluttered her fan vehemently. “Oh, this heat. Nurse, go fetch us something to drink, would you?”

Giving her a grateful look, I curtsied and hurried out to do her bidding. My thoughts turned to worrying about my family. In Mother’s last letter, she said that the medicine the last doctor prescribed for Father wasn’t working. Perhaps I could ask Prince Escalus to send someone to look in on them, but we hadn’t been to the palace in weeks and it might be presuming too much…Lost in thought, I took a wrong turn--or several wrong turns. Somehow, instead of ending up in the kitchen, I ended up on an upper floor in the middle of a long, empty hallway that ran from one side of the house to the other, with windows almost touching the neighbors’ houses. Suddenly, something dark came hurtling through the window I was facing with a splintering crash, and rolled to a stop at my feet.

“Benvolio!” I cried before I could stop myself. I really shouldn’t have been surprised at this point.

He sprang up, more bloody than I’d ever seen him, grinning. “Elena! This is an unexpected pleasure!” He moved as if he was going to sprint down the corridor, but staggered, and fell forward. I caught him just in time, but he nearly took us both out. “What in the name of all that’s wonderful have you done to yourself?” I asked as we regained our footing.

“It’s nothing serious.” He leaned against the wall, gasping.

“Tell me this isn’t another one of your crazy plans to see me.”

His laugh was equal parts pain and pleasure. “I swear I’m not as crazy as you give me credit for. Tybalt’s chasing me. I think I’ve got the lead on him by about a building and a half. This is probably normal.” Still relying on the wall, he stumbled down the corridor. I followed him, ready to catch him again if he fell.

“What do you mean, normal? Don’t tell me that you often jump through buildings like this.”

He shook his head, his curly hair bouncing frantically. “No, it’s normal for Tybalt to be chasing me at this time of day--he’s back in action, unfortunately. I blame Mercutio entirely.” He wiped some blood off his face and groaned. “I am an experienced window jumper though.” He opened up the window on the other end.

“You’re not seriously thinking of doing that again, are you?” I said, as he opened the other window and made ready to jump.

“Trust me, I learned from the best.” He backed up several paces to get a running start and I moved with him. He cast an anxious glance behind us, then turned his attention to me. His eyes were bright and wild. “Tell you what—meet me at the bookshop tomorrow if I’m still alive. I’ve been dying to see you. Hopefully not literally.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Good.” He staggered again slightly.

“Why don’t you just take the stairs?”

“Because my uncle Lord Montague lives two houses down from here. He’s usually pretty chill about having his windows broken.”

I took hold of his arm. “How hard did you hit your head to give you the delusion that you can be good at jumping through windows?”

“A guy in Milan taught me. Another story for another day.” Quick as lightning, he kissed my cheek, ran, and leapt through the window. Purely on reflex, I ran to the window to see if he’d made it. Yes, he was running down the corridor of the opposing building as if all the Furies were after him.

The sigh of relief was scarcely out of my mouth when Tybalt crashed through the first window, shattering the remaining glass. Thinking fast, I turned and rushed towards him, spouting the most simpering pack of lies I could come up with in the space of half a second. “My lord Tybalt! I’m so pleased to see you! The lady Rosaline has been looking everywhere for you!”

He stared up at me from the pile of glass, completely bewildered. “Rosaline?”

I nodded earnestly, hoping he was too befuddled by his landing to recognize my face. “She’s been waiting for you all afternoon! She says you promised you would meet her hours ago. She’s longing to see you, poor affectionate lady. Make haste, for she’s greatly wounded by the lateness of your coming.”

Getting to his feet, he rubbed the back of his head gingerly. “I don’t remember promising to meet her…” His attention was fixed on the far window. He began lumbering towards it.

Terrified, I followed him. “She said you were both going to pretend it was a surprise. Please, my lord, she’ll be terribly put out if you disappoint her.”

He shrugged it off. “She’s not yet my wife, that I should be forced to come at her summons.”

“But my lord, it was you who summoned her.” I was grasping at straws at this point. “And…that fellow Romeo has sent her another letter. She seemed quite pleased with his description of her beauty.”

Like magic, he turned on me, enraged. “Romeo? Just wait until I get my hands on that foul creature! It shall not be said that Romeo bested Tybalt in love where he failed to beat him in war!”

“Shall I show you the way to Lady Rosaline, sir?” I said timidly as he stormed towards the staircase.

He waved me away angrily. “Begone, wench. I’ll find the way myself.” He slammed the door behind him as he went down the staircase.

Relief turned my legs to jelly, and I staggered against the wall, wondering what I was supposed to be doing and what on earth had just happened. Oh yes. Drinks. The kitchen. Benvolio’s brief appearance replayed in my mind like the fragments of a dream as I crept down the back stairs. I’ve been dying to see you.

It must have been a day for weird coincidences, because the stairs ended right beside the kitchen. The kitchen staff gave me strange looks, but they gave me the drinks as requested, and a small cup of water for myself. I wondered how long it would be before someone found the broken windows, and hoped I wouldn’t get blamed for it. Drinks finally obtained, I found my way back to the courtyard. Or rather, to the doorway of the courtyard, where Juliet was standing with her arms folded, her face scrunched into a most unladylike scowl. “What happened?” she demanded. Then her face turned concerned. “Elena! You’re covered in blood!”

“What?” My hand rose instinctively to my cheek.

“Are you hurt?” she asked, examining me anxiously.

“I…No, not badly.” Deciding to divert attention away from myself until I could figure out a convincing explanation, I asked “Why aren’t you with Rosaline?”

She pouted. “Tybalt dropped in for a visit. I know better than to stay where I’m not wanted. He was looking a bit worse for the wear too—oh Elena, did he hurt you?”

“No. I…I really don’t know how to explain this, Juliet. I’ll try to explain when we get home. Here’s your drink.”

“You may as well drink Rosaline’s,” Juliet said. “I doubt we’ll be seeing her again today. You should have seen the way she lit up when he came in the room. Frankly, I can’t see what she sees in him, that big angry oaf, but then, I’m his cousin.”

“I certainly don’t see it either,” I said, taking a sip of Rosaline’s drink. “I guess she likes her men rough and dominating.”

“He does soften up a bit around her,” Juliet said. “It’s rather frightening, really. It’s like he becomes a different person.”

“Everything about Tybalt is frightening,” I said.

Juliet nodded vehemently. “We’d best say our goodbyes to Rosaline’s mother.”

Once we were safely home, Juliet lost no time in demanding an explanation. I had wracked my brains for a false one that would satisfy her, but nothing even remotely plausible came to mind, so I settled for something sort of true.

“I got lost on the way to the kitchen--and all of a sudden, someone came crashing through the window.”

“Through the window?”

“Yes. Some of the fragments flew-- I guess that’s how I got blood on me. He didn’t say anything, just got up and ran and jumped out the other window into the next house.”

“He must have been a madman.”

“I guess he was a Montague, because Tybalt came crashing in after him, but then he remembered he was going to surprise Rosaline, I guess. I got out of there in a hurry when I saw it was him.”

Juliet narrowed her eyes at me, but all she said was “Pity he’s on the rampage again. I hope he doesn’t come after you.”

“He won’t,” I said with more confidence than I felt. “We taught him a lesson.”

Juliet sniffed. “You really should clean yourself up before more people start asking questions.”

“Yes, my lady,” I said, grateful to do as she asked.

“I still don’t understand how you got blood on your face,” she said, more to herself than to me.

The next day, discreet inquiries were made by Rosaline’s family about whether or not I could have anything to do with the two shattered windows in their upstairs hallway. While Tybalt did his best to fix the blame on me, Juliet vouched for me. Everyone except Rosaline liked Juliet far more than they liked Tybalt, so I came out of the strange episode unscathed. To smooth things over, Lady Capulet suggested that Juliet take a break from visiting Rosaline for a while. Juliet was furious. She took her revenge on me by making me plant six new rosebushes in the hot afternoon sun while she made acid comments from beneath a large frilly parasol.

“You should thank me,” she said, angrily twirling her parasol. “Now if anyone asks about the bloodstains on your clothes, you’ll have an excuse.”

I gritted my teeth as yet another thorn pricked me. “I thank you, my lady.”

“Don’t put too much dirt around it,” she said. “You don’t want to suffocate the poor thing.”

“As you wish, my lady,” I said, gingerly scraping back a little dirt from beneath the plant.

“Not too much, it needs something to hold the water!”

I muttered under my breath “Of all the flowers that had to be your favorite, why did you have to pick the ones with thorns?”

“What was that?”

“I said that ‘Of all flowers, roses are my favorite.”

Juliet brightened. “Their beauty is well worth any trouble,” she said. “Careful! You’ve knocked another petal off!”

I stopped listening and decided to concentrate on not getting pricked and figuring out a way to get to the bookshop tomorrow. Was there anything Juliet would want from the bookshop? Not likely, unless there was a pamphlet on gardening or something…someone should really put effort into breeding a thornless rose. Was Benvolio still alive? His luck was impressive, but it seemed unlikely. Was I really crazy enough to care about that lunatic?

As I was planting the third rosebush, Anthony the doorkeeper/gardener ran out into the courtyard, flapping his arms in the air like an agitated chicken. “Stop that! What are you doing!”

“Planting rosebushes,” said Juliet, giving him her best innocent gaze.

“That was going to be a vegetable garden!” Antony wailed. “The new cook marked it out herself!”

“Really!” said Juliet, sounding shocked. “Why didn’t you tell me, Nurse?”

I sat up, irritated beyond measure. “Because I didn’t know, my lady.”

Juliet clicked her tongue in a way that made me want to strangle her. “Oh, very well. Nurse, we’ll just have to move them over in that shady corner. I trust none of the other servants has plans for that part, Antony?”

“No, Madam,” he said miserably. Giving me a double take, he said “What’re you doing, planting these without gardening gloves on, you stupid girl? Go put some on at once before you bleed all over the paving stones!”

Needless to say, it was a long, prickly afternoon. The next morning, I finally came up with a reasonably decent excuse to get to the bookshop, but first I had to replant the rosebushes again because Lady Capulet wanted to plant heliotrope over in the corner where we’d replanted the rosebushes yesterday. At least this time I had gardening gloves. By the time I was finished, the afternoon had begun.

“My lady,” I said, wiping the sweat from my brow “I overheard Rosaline’s sister, Livia, say that the bookseller has a new pamphlet about fortunetelling with flowers.”

Juliet brightened. “Really? How fascinating! Perhaps you can pick it up on the way back from Rosaline’s. I want you to deliver this letter to her. But clean yourself up first--you look like a brown banshee.”

“As you wish,” I said, wondering if this was good luck or bad luck.

Though I made good time, the trip to Rosaline’s took much longer than I had hoped. Rosaline’s talkative but slightly less annoying little sister, Livia, answered the door. She kept fishing for information about yesterday’s window-smashing episode, but I refused to take the bait. Irritated, she slammed the door in my face, and I was finally free to go. It was late in the afternoon when I finally reached the bookshop. My thoughts were crowded and panicked as I stepped into the cool shadows of the store: What if he got tired of waiting and went home? What if Tybalt somehow managed to catch up with him?

To my relief, I heard his voice rising over the shelves as I made my way into furthest recesses of the shop, but he wasn’t talking to the bookseller. “If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a hundred times: I’m not getting involved with another one of your bat-brained schemes to cause mischief.”

I stole into the narrow space between two bookshelves and sat down against the wall, pretending to be engrossed in a book. The voice I didn’t know replied: “Oh, come on! What are you doing in here that’s more important than playing pranks on the Capulets?”

“Reading,” Benvolio replied. “You should try it sometime, Mercutio. How did you find me, anyway?”

“We’ve been following you,” Mercutio said. “We wanted to find out where you go all the time. We were hoping for something a lot more exciting than this.”

“Sorry to disappoint you. And what do you mean, where do I go all of the time? For one thing, unlike you two…buffoons, I actually have a job. For another, I’m constantly on the run from Tybalt because you keep picking fights with him!”

“Why don’t you just stay and fight him back?”

“Because if I do that, somebody is going to get killed! I’m not ready to die yet, and I really don’t want to have anyone’s life on my conscience. Have you ever even thought about what it might feel like to know that you’d killed someone? That if it weren’t for you, they’d still be alive?”

“We’d all be happy to see Tybalt, go, bro. I don’t think my conscience would bother me about it.”

A third voice, aloof and unfocused-sounding, chimed in. “That’s because you don’t have a conscience.”

The three of them chuckled, though Benvolio’s chuckle sounded more like the sarcastic half-laugh I’d heard yesterday. Benvolio continued, “Look, even if I wanted to go with you, I can barely walk after crashing through those windows yesterday.”

“Aw, man, that was awesome!” said Mercutio. “You’ve gotta teach us how to do that!”

Benvolio groaned. “No. I’m never doing that again if I can help it, and the last thing we need is for you to think you can just go rampaging through the second-story windows of people’s houses. It’s very dangerous. Not to mention painful. Even with proper training, you’d be lucky to get up and walk away.”

“You did,” Mercutio pointed out.

“That’s because I’m very lucky. And an idiot.”

“Can’t argue with that,” quipped Mercutio. “But really, bro, what is it with you? You seem…different these days. If I didn’t know better, I’d say it was a girl, but I know your standards are too weird for any of the Verona girls. Why do you want an intelligent girl anyway? They’re nothing but trouble.”

Benvolio sighed. “Look, Mercutio, if you have to resort to following someone, usually it means that they don’t want to be found.”

“All the more reason to follow them. I enjoy getting on people’s nerves.”

“I noticed,” said Benvolio. “Please. I just want a little quiet time alone with my broken ribs.”

“Quiet? We can have quiet when we’re dead. We’re young. We need noise.”

Benvolio said, “You know I don’t work that way.”

“Yeah, but I do! The only reason I’m letting you off this easy is that I’ve got better things to do with my time than stand around in an old musty book store reading about dead people.”

Benvolio chuckled. “Thank you.”

“C’mon, Romeo,” Mercutio said.

The dazed voice said.“What? I wasn’t listening.”

“I said ‘come on,’ you lovestruck ninny. Benvolio, I can’t believe you’re going to leave me and this featherbrain unsupervised.”

“Birds of a feather should flock together,” replied Benvolio. “I’ll see you at supper if you’re still alive. Oh, and Mercutio—”

“Yes?”

There was just a hint of a growl in his voice as he said “Don’t even think about trying to follow me again.”

I buried my head in the book as I heard their footsteps cross in front of me, hoping I blended into the woodwork. Looking like a brown banshee has its advantages. When the shop door slammed, I rose and cautiously made my way to the other side of the bookshelf. Benvolio was balanced precariously in a rickety chair. His skin was spattered with a rainbow of scrapes and bruises, but the sight of him made my heart do alarming somersaults inside my chest. When he saw me, his face lit up. “Afternoon!”

“Hello,” I said, grinning back at him.

There was an awkward pause. We stood there shyly, suddenly flustered.

He gestured to an empty chair next to him. “Please, sit,” he said. “I don’t know how to thank you for yesterday--I don’t know what you did, but I’m pretty certain you saved my life, again. That’s what—two that I owe you now?”

“I think we’re even on the first one,” I said, settling into the other chair.

“How much did you overhear?” he asked.

“Everything from the part where you said you didn’t want to be involved with one of their bat-brained schemes to cause mischief, or something like that. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been listening. How did you know I was here?”

He shrugged. “Your timing was too perfect to be coincidence. Don’t worry about it. I eavesdrop on people’s conversations all the time--not yours, of course. That doesn’t make it right, but we live in a very upside-down world. It’s a survival skill I’m not particularly proud of.”

“So that’s Romeo and Mercutio,” I said.

“Yes,” he said, grimacing. “Charming, aren’t they?”

I giggled. “Do they always talk like that?”

“Most of the time, except when they’re around adults or girls they’re trying to impress--” His face turned red. “Oh gosh you heard all of it, didn’t you?”

I had never seen him so flustered before. It was incredibly endearing and a little alarming. “You mean the part about your high standards?”

He ran his fingers through his hair, making it floof out in odd directions like a fat thundercloud as he struggled to regain his usual reckless, flirtatious composure. “What can I say? It is true, after all. You’re remarkably intelligent, and I find it fascinating. Is that so odd?”

Now I was flustered. “Yes. In a good way.”

There was another awkward pause. Finally he said “They’re not all bad, you know. You might find this hard to believe, but Mercutio’s actually intelligent. He just uses it in all the wrong ways. And Romeo…well, Romeo has a good heart--at least he used to, before this Rosaline business. He’s a different person these days. He wasn’t exactly grounded in the first place, and now he’s completely floated away. Mercutio just kind of drags him around wherever he goes like a balloon. I just hope Mercutio doesn’t chase down Tybalt so he can try to jump through second-story windows.”

“Until yesterday, I wouldn’t have thought that anyone would do that on purpose,” I said, folding my arms.

He groaned. “You haven’t met Mercutio. Suddenly I’ve become a terrible role model.”

“You are a terrible role model,” I agreed. “And a total lunatic. But if someone is stupid enough to chase down Tybalt and jump through windows on purpose, I don’t think it’s your fault.”

“Yes, but I feel responsible for them. Honestly, I feel more like their babysitter than their friend these days. At least you get paid to babysit your friend.”

“True, but at least your ‘friends’ don’t order you around.”

“Oh, they try to. I just don’t have to listen.”

“Lucky.”

He sighed. “I can’t believe they followed me here! We’re not going to be able to meet here again, for a while, at least. It’s too risky.”

“I was afraid of that.”

He smiled. “Don’t worry, I’ll find other meeting places.”

“I’d ask you not to put yourself in any unnecessary danger but I know you’ll just ignore me.”

His smile grew broader. “You know me well. Speaking of unnecessary danger, what did you do to stop Tybalt? Also, I specifically told you not to get involved. You don’t listen to me at all, do you?”

I grinned. “Are you complaining about me saving your life?”

“No, just about the fact that you never listen to me.”

“Of course I listen to you. I listen to everything you say. Then I make up my own mind about what I’m going to do.”

He suddenly grew serious. “Every word?”

“Every word.”

“Well, they’re true. At least, when I’m talking to you,” he said.

All at once, I knew we were in deep water. Not because of the words, or from the way his eyes held mine. It was the silence that was so terribly significant.

Without warning, he reached out and touched the scratches on my face. “Did Tybalt do this to you?”

“No,” I said, drawing back. “Juliet’s not allowed to visit Rosaline for a while, so she made me plant rosebushes without gloves on as punishment.”

“This is all my fault. I’m so sorry, Elena. I didn’t mean to cause you so much trouble. If I had known— you must really hate me right now.”

“No,” I said. “You are kind of inconvenient, though.”

“Why did you even come and see me?” he asked.

“Because I wanted to make sure you were still alive after all that trouble. And when I’m with Juliet it’s like I’m in a cage. And when I’m with you…I’m not,” I finished lamely. “So, uh, tell me about Milan.”

“What? Oh, that,” he said. “Go ahead, tell me I’m an idiot.”

“You’re an idiot,” I agreed. “Who was chasing you in Milan?”

“The French,” he said ruefully. “I was on a side errand to recover some papers for a fellow by the name of Da Vinci. His apprentice, Salai, was with me. He’s a lot like Mercutio in that he’s got a nose for mischief. It would have been nice if he had told me that the French don’t particularly care for him. I guess you’ve heard about how the French overthrew Milan.”

“A little. Politics isn’t really in Juliet’s line of gossip, but I pick up things here and there.”

“Eavesdropping,” he teased.

“Thanks for reminding me that my life is an ethical mess.”

“Most people’s lives are,” he said, leaning back so that his chair balanced on its back two legs. “Even the Pope is an ethical mess.”

“You’ve met the Pope?”

“Yeah. It was kind of an accident. Anyway, long story short, we more or less burglarized Da Vinci’s papers, and then they were after us.”

“You know, I’m not so certain that you’re a very honest merchant.”

“I am, according to my principles. It’s not my fault that the world’s gone crazy. Every city state has different rules and they’re always changing leaders. But I guess you know that.”

I nodded. “Yes, unfortunately. If you try to follow all the rules you’ll end up with no integrity left.”

He continued, “You see, they were sketches—Da Vinci’s. They were worth saving, believe me. At least…” he trailed off, staring down at the stacks of books. “They were then. That’s when Salai taught me how to jump through windows. On-the-job training, you might say.” He rubbed his shoulder gingerly and grimaced. “I’m starting to think that standing and fighting would have been the better option. I wish I had one of those drawings to show you. You would have liked them. I asked Da Vinci for one for my services, but apparently he only accepts payment in gold, not blood and broken limbs. We escaped purely on luck and our window-jumping skills. Yesterday, I was in the middle of a meeting with the painters’ guild when Tybalt found me. Tybalt had bribed one of them into having the meeting up there. He thought I couldn’t escape. I’m really not sure that I would have, if it weren’t for you.”

“You’re welcome. I’m still not entirely convinced that you’re not crazy.”

“Eh, neither am I.” He rubbed his shoulder gingerly. “It feels like I’ve broken every bone in my body.”

“As crazy as it sounds, I wish I could have been there—in Milan. Except for the window jumping part.”

“So do I. You probably would have found a way for us to survive without jumping out of windows.” He sighed. “I wish I’d met you sooner. I could have taken you on as an assistant, or… something.”

“That would have been amazing,” I said ruefully.

He brightened. “You could, you know. I’m starting on another trip in a few weeks. I’d be willing to pay you double what the Capulets are paying you, and you’d be able to see your family again.”

I stared at the floor, wanting it so badly that it hurt. “You have no idea how much I want to say yes. But you know what the Capulets would do to my family if I left them to work for Montague.”

His face fell. “I do. As usual, your logic is flawless.”

“Sometimes I wish it wasn’t. But Juliet won’t be a child forever. When she gets married, she won’t need me anymore. Maybe by then I’ll have saved up enough money and I can convince my family to move out of this blasted city.” It wasn’t the most encouraging hope, but it was something.

“Maybe. How old is Juliet?” asked Benvolio.

“Thirteen. It will be a while.”

He grimaced. “It might not be as long as you think.”

“Surely they wouldn’t be stupid enough to marry her off soon? She’s a child.”

“Remember that these are the Capulets we’re talking about here. Not that my family is any better. I’m afraid it isn’t at all out of the ordinary.”

I said, “I hope you’re wrong.”

“So do I. Maybe there will be another way for us—I’ve been working on something. Which reminds me, I have something for you.” He fished in his pockets and pulled out a slightly crumpled letter. “It’s from your family.”

“What?” I asked, taking it from him eagerly. “How?”

“Well, it just so happened that your father was looking for work, and I can always use someone as savvy as he is, so I hired him.”

“You did what?”

“I hired him. I guess being sick gave him a little perspective about the feud. He’s almost completely better, and in the meantime I’m making sure he doesn’t work too hard. I thought you knew?”

“No. I haven’t had a letter from my family in ages,” I said, breaking the seal. “Why did they give it to you?”

“You mother caught her last messenger taking bribes from one of Rosaline’s servants. So I told her that I had connections and could get it to you.”

“Ugh, Rosaline. Still, I can’t believe—why? And are you lying to my mother?”

“Well, I couldn’t exactly tell her, could I? I didn’t know how much you had told her about me.”

“I haven’t told her anything,” I said. “The less she knows, the less she has to lie about. Still, she’s not stupid. She probably suspects something. But I can’t just act like this is okay. Why are you involved with my family? And don’t tell me it’s just business.”

“I thought it was obvious,” he said. “After all you’ve done for me, I wanted to repay you, and this is the only way I could think of. I want to help you all get free from Verona.”

I was still utterly bewildered. “But…why?”

He leaned towards me. “Because—” The front door clanged open, and Mercutio’s voice cut through the air, causing us to jump like frightened rabbits. “Benvolio, bro, where you at? Your mom sent me to tell you that the food is getting cold. C’mon man, I’m starving.”

“Okay,” said Benvolio, leaping up. Mouthing “goodbye,” he raced to the front door before his friend found us.

Unwilling to put the pieces together, I began reading the letter.

“Dear Elena,

I’m so sorry you haven’t heard from us before now—you must be terribly worried. Apparently Rosaline has been bribing our former messenger to destroy all our letters to you. Be on your guard with her. There’s a reason she and Tybalt get along so well. Fortunately, your father’s new employer, Benvolio Montague, has very kindly offered to manage the letter’s delivery. Ordinarily I wouldn’t have asked, but I knew you must be worried. I wish you could meet him, Elena. I think you’d like him. He doesn’t seem to belong to the Montagues at all. To be honest, he probably saved your stubborn father’s life. He’s better, but he isn’t really well enough to ordinary work. If he’d been hired by anyone else, I’m sure he would have been overworked and had a relapse, but Benvolio takes care to keep him from overdoing it. (I asked him to. Don’t tell your father.) The boys all say hello. They are growing like weeds—I wish you were here to see them. Giovanni has decided that he wants to be the Pope when he grows up. Father sends his love, and to press on because it won’t be long before he can fully provide for us again. I hate to be a drag, but don’t get your hopes up too much. We’re still watching him very carefully. But he really is much better, and it wouldn’t have happened without you. You have no idea how grateful we are.

Your loving mother,

Leda Carafa.