Chapter 33

His body tingled with the sound of a crank turning. His body rose; he was flying. He swayed in the air, testing his wings. He shouted in glee, though blind as the bats. He was soaring. Cosimo had given him the sensation of flight. Henri was free. Tears fell from his closed eyes. He was so light. He was steam from a kettle, chimney smoke rising. His head not filled with bile. His bones no longer caked in his misdeeds. Weightless. If Cosimo would just open a window, he knew he could fly free.

“Bravo dolcetto.” Cosimo’s fingers, like the tops of trees, grazed his belly. His breath, a warm breeze to be carried away on.

“I know why you’ve come.”

Henri coughed, “What?”

Suddenly the idea of being suspended in an Italian’s countryside laboratoriowith Paris and the Village of Fontainebleau nowhere in sight, did not bring relief.

“Little for a courtier and young for such robes and carriage.”

Henri felt Cosimo’s fingers find his hanging nipples.