Excerpt from Disobedient by Elizabeth Fremantle, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

"Look!" He is holding out both of his hands. His fingers are long, nails clogged with paint. One hand is fisted, the other open, a coin cupped in the palm. "Pick one. You can keep what's in it."

She considers for some time which hand to choose, glancing at her father for help. He merely shrugs. She has never had a coin of her own. She could buy something with it.

Her mouth waters as she thinks of the cones of sugared nuts sold in the market that her mother says are too expensive. She is on the brink of making her choice but something stops her. Perhaps there are two coins hidden in his fist. She could buy the sugared nuts and a bag of seed to feed the little birds, or a length of silk ribbon, or a bom- bolone. She can already taste the sweet creamy ooze of its filling. "That one.' She points at Merisi's closed hand.

He unfurls it slowly with a low chuckle. It is empty.

Disappointment washes away her small dreams. Another girl might cry, but not her.

"Honestly, Merisi." Her father is frowning. "Getting her hopes up like that. She's just a child."

Merisi ignores her father, asking her, "What does that teach you?' as he caches his coin.

She has to think very hard to come up with the lesson she has learned.

"Not to want more than I am offered?" she suggests quietly.

She has the feeling of being wrong but her father says, "Good girl. That's right. The moral is that we must all learn to limit our expectations."

"I suppose that's one way of taking it," Merisi says. "But it's not what I intended."

Even though he frightens her a little, there is something about Merisi that Artemisia can't help feeling thrilled by.

"What is it that makes you want the thing you can't see?" Merisi thrusts forward his clenched hand once more.

Her mind churns for an answer. "It might be something even more special."

Merisi is smiling at her. "No one can resist a mystery." He turns to Orazio. "Not a moral but an observation. Your daughter is uncommonly perceptive. How old did you say she was? Six? You might well have a prodigy on your hands!"

She isn't entirely sure what a prodigy is but from his expression it must be something good.

"I wouldn't know about that." Orazio passes Artemisia her coat. "One doesn't really want precocity in a daughter."

When her father isn't looking, Merisi slips two coins into her hand, lifting his forefinger to cross his mouth. She hides the treasure in her pocket. The idea of keeping such a secret gives her a warm feeling inside.

Her father takes her elbow as they leave. His grip is tight and she has to run to keep up, weaving through the narrow streets. The crowds become dense, the atmosphere high with excitement, as they jostle forward towards the river. All Artemisia can see are backsides and shirt­tails, the hilt of a knife stuffed into a belt, a baby bundled in a woman's arms, a donkey leaving a pungent trail of dung in its wake.

They grind to a halt and people begin to shout and push.

Somewhere ahead she can hear a great roar go up. "Sounds like we've missed the wife,' Merisi says. "I told you we'd be late."

Artemisia, pressed too tightly between strange bodies, feels the fizz of panic. Something hot and wet slides over her hand. She recoils. It is only a dog licking the salt from her skin. She strokes its head, glad of the distraction. It pushes its cool damp nose into her palm.

The throng begins to move. She stumbles on a broken cobble, falling, grazing her palms. A boot stamps, narrowly missing her head. She struggles to get to her feet, the press of the crowd preventing it. Large hands grip beneath her arms and, before she knows it, she is catapulted up, above the crowd, and onto Merisi's shoulders.<

Her father is grumbling. "I told you we shouldn't have brought her."

Artemisia looks down on the sea of heads surging forward below. Tiny beads of blood are forming on the soft cushions of flesh beneath her thumbs. She blots them on her coat.

Excerpted from Disobedient by Elizabeth Fremantle. Copyright © 2023 by Elizabeth Fremantle. Excerpted by permission of Pegasus Books. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.