“ Convince him? Madonna, it is my wish. Certainly, that’s more than enough excuse. ” He responded curtly to her remark yet he owed to remember that a mere wife would often view her husband as the greater evil. But Florence was Lorenzo’s kingdom and he, its unofficial KING, a bright prince that was called upon the age of 21 to lead men thrice his age. Undoubtedly, this must have meant something.
His orbs were sharp as he took notice of her discomfort, her paper-thin hands raising to the tender skin of her collarbone as if the mere movement would block whatever it was that ailed her. “ Simonetta. Are you too unwell? Perhaps you should sit. ” Lorenzo suggested with some reluctance. His expertise laid on the higher-callings and not on the science of a healer, thus he was unsure of her condition and how fast it could progress.
“ Show up in the Medici palazzo? Please, listen to yourself. ” Was this his arrogance peeking? Him who was beloved by all citizens, regardless of age, from the day he was born? Lorenzo was often paraded to Florence as a child as soon as he had shown early signs of charisma. A clever ploy of his grandfather and father to establish their rule. And the ploy did work better than expected and Firenze fell in love with Lorenzo whom they now praised as a prince, a king, sometimes a GOD. “ I beg of YOU, do not underestimate me, madonna. I fancy believing I do hold some influence. Should you wish to depart you can freely do so. You are not a prisoner HERE. ”
HER ILLNESS WAS A WEAKNESS -one she absolutely loathed to show to the outside world. She would walk, she would speak and she would eat, but everything was done with the pain brought my at least twenty knives stabbed into her lungs no matter what she did. It simply was impossible to hide these things from the outside world, perhaps also the reason why she was trying to push so many people away from her, afraid that they would notice and see nothing but an imminent death hovering over her.
Life to Simonetta was something precious. But whether she wanted it to continue like this was a battle she still fought every waking moment of her days.
Trembling hands sought for the chair behind her, slowly lowering herself to sit down. For a moment she had her eyes cast down, especially when she heard the slight change of tone in Lorenzo’s voice. She was not used for anyone to raise their voice in her direction. More proof that she had been spoiled most of her life- often daring to talk back whenever it happened, but right now it did nothing more than to bring her to silence, force her to contemplate Lorenzo’s offer once again.
❝ ---- no, it is not my wish to depart, Messere. ❞ This was a decision she had made long ago already, even though part of her still fought against it. ❝ But this whole ordeal scares me. Marco does not wish me close to your brother, or master Botticelli. He shall try to have me go back home and await my fate there. I fear to speak to Giuliano, but at the same time I know you could offer me more than any other physician send by my husband. I know I shall have a better chance to recover here. ❞