Chapter 46. The Breakfast

Ezio blinked awake to pale light spilling through the curtains. His neck ached. His back protested. The chair beneath him had long since lost the shape of comfort.

For a second, he couldn’t remember how he’d ended up there.

Then he saw her.

Margherita slept soundly—curled beneath the blanket, one hand tucked under her cheek. Her breathing was even, soft. No nightmares. No restless flinches.

He exhaled slowly, relief sinking into his bones.

The door creaked. Rosa’s head appeared through the gap, her brows rising when she saw him slouched in the chair.

“Saints preserve us,” she muttered. “You actually stayed.”

Ezio rubbed his eyes, straightening. “Didn’t plan to.”

“I can see that,” she said, stepping inside. “You’ll ruin your spine before you ever ruin your reputation.”

He smirked faintly but said nothing, pushing to his feet. They moved quietly, careful not to wake Margherita. Rosa adjusted the blanket around the girl’s shoulders