Chapter 98: The Kiss of a Saint
“Please discuss the follow-up matters with Ferrante,” Rafael said, reaching out to ring the golden bell beside him three times, signaling the end of the meeting. Without bothering to gauge anyone else’s reaction, he rose gracefully and left.
The Cardinals stood one after another, bowing to see the Pope off. Ferrante followed like the Pope’s shadow, vanishing with him through the doorway. The room was left with only the lavishly dressed crimson-robed cardinals. A few nodded politely to the rest and left; the remaining few exchanged glances. Though they remained silent, their faces were touched with smiles of smug satisfaction.
The risks of this move had been considerable, but the rewards were equally substantial. They had risked retaliation from Sistine I to snatch a piece of meat from the lion’s claws. The distribution of the spoils would require further deliberation, but more importantly…
They were no fools, nor did they take Sistine I—who sat so securely upon the Throne of Saint Leah—for one. From any perspective, Rafael was not a man who would so easily be bullied. Yet, he had let go so easily, allowing them to seize such a bountiful harvest. Even in their state of extreme euphoria, the Cardinals could not ignore the faint unease in their hearts.
He must have some hidden move waiting for them, or perhaps this succulent meat was laced with a hook.
But no matter how deep the trap ahead might be, the Cardinals could not restrain their ambition to swallow the prize. Even if it was a trap, they were determined to take the risk.
Simultaneously, however, they heightened their vigilance toward Rafael once more.
At the same time, however, they grew even more wary of Rafael.
If only they could withdraw at the right moment, if only they didn’t get trapped, they could walk away safely with the spoils of victory—that was what each of them thought.