His Sword

by Holly Hart

  “I have every right to give my money to whomever I choose, for whatever reason I choose,” he says in a warning tone. “That money is to help my father-in-law with expenses and to enable him to live a lifestyle that more closely aligns with his daughter’s new life in Morova.”

  “What is this about a payout?” Isabella asks. “That sounds awfully suspicious to me. No wonder they’re looking into him.”

  “Your Highness, was Mr. Sparks in attendance at your bachelor party, the night these photos were taken?” Ricci asks.

  “Renaldo, you dumb ass,” Maria breathes. “It’s starting to turn into a trial. This was a bad idea…”

  “Yes,” Dante says. “Why?”

  “According to my sources, you arranged to give him a cash payout – ten, in fact, over ten years, totaling more than twenty million euros – during that party.”

  Dante is silent for several moments. “Yes,” he says finally.

  “And it didn’t have anything to do with Mr. Sparks perhaps witnessing something he shouldn’t have during that party? A tryst with the woman in the photos, maybe?”

  I put my face in my hands. This is a nightmare.

  “That can’t possibly be good,” says Isabella.

  Dante’s eyes are flashing with anger now.

  “Listen to me, Lorenzo,” he says. “Ike Sparks has more integrity in his little finger than you do in your entire body. To suggest that he would accept money to stay quiet while his soon-to-be son-in-law cheats on his daughter is despicable.”

  Ricci sits back in his chair with a smug grin.

  “I’m just saying it’s very convenient, in light of these photographs.”

  “And I’m saying that I’ve had enough of you drawing conclusions about my personal life based on scandalous rumors.”

  “I just want answers for your subjects,” Ricci shrugs.

  “No, you don’t,” Dante seethes. “You want ratings for your show. But I’ll give you the answer you’ve been looking for right now.”

  Don’t do it, Dante. Please don’t do it.

  He does it: he flips his middle finger to the host, yanks off his microphone and storms off the stage.

  Ricci’s grin gets even wider. Meanwhile, gasps from the stage crew can be heard in the background.

  “There you have it, Morova,” Ricci says to the camera. “Is this the man we want at the helm of our monarchy? The man we want in charge of the Trentini billions?”

  He leans closer, as if confiding a secret to his viewers.

  “I think we all know the answer to that, don’t you?”

  Maria clicks off the television and pitches the remote into a corner, where it smashes against the stone wall.

  Isabella glowers at us.

  “I must say, this all looks very bad,” she says. “I don’t know what Dante is trying to hide, but acting like that was certainly not the way to deal with it. I wish he’d listened to Emilio more when he was growing up, I really do.”

  None of us knows what to say. When Dante and I talked yesterday, I honestly didn’t know how things could get any worse. And yet here we are, exponentially farther into shit creek than we were twenty-four hours ago.

  “This could be the fodder Chancellor Huber has been looking for to trigger a referendum.” Carlo says. “It’s hard to see the public reacting well to that display. Justified or not, the prince came off as irresponsible at best, and irrational at worst.”

  Isabella gets up and straightens her outfit before heading to the door.

  “I just hope you all can help Dante deal with this,” she says. “Before the rest of us pay the consequences for his actions.”

  As she disappears into the hallway, Carlo turns to Maria and me.

  “As much as I hate to agree with the duchess, I’m afraid I must. We have to prepare for the very real possibility of a referendum. If that happens, this entire plan may have been for nothing.”

  Right now, I can’t even bring myself to think about that part of it. Right now, I’m trying to figure out why Dante seemed so defensive on the show. Could any of it be true? Could he be trying to hide something? He never did give me a proper answer about upping my father’s payment.

  No. I can’t believe Dad would be involved in something like that. But does that mean something else is going on?

  Carlo excuses himself to return to his office, leaving me alone with Maria.

  “I need you to be completely honest with me,” I say to her.

  “Of course.”

  “Do you think Dante is telling the truth? That it’s all a frame-up to trigger the referendum?”

  “It’s the only logical explanation,” she says.

  “No,” I point out. “It’s not the only explanation. There’s one more.”

  She looks down at the floor. “That he’s lying.”

  “Yes,” I say.

  “I don’t believe he is. After all these years, I believe I know his character. He’s not capable of hurting someone like that.”

  “But you can’t prove it.”

  “No, I can’t,” she says. “But I choose to believe him. The question is: do you?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t known him as long as you have.”

  “But you do know him,” she says. “You know his heart. I think all he’s asking from you right now is for some faith.”

  She’s right.

  But I just don’t know if I have any to give.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  50. DANTE

  “All right, you have to be fucking with me,” I say. At least I don’t yell it this time. “There’s no other explanation.”

  “If only that were the case, sir,” Carlo says. “It would make more sense.”

  “I don’t understand how this could happen,” Amanda says. “How can they possibly have a referendum in three weeks?”

  “It’s actually fairly easy,” says Maria. “Since the population is so small and centrally located – Morova is essentially just a city, after all – it’s easy to have everyone come out to vote. Our elections are incredibly smooth.”

  “I thought they would argue about the question for months,” I say. “They’re proposing a historic, fundamental change in the country’s government.”

  “That’s just it, sir,” says Carlo. “It’s not that significant a change.”

  “Dismantling the monarchy and stealing my fortune isn’t a significant change?”

  “They will be asking the people to leave the monarchy in place,” he says. “I’ve had a chance to look at the question they’ve agreed upon.”

  Amanda and I look at each other.

  “That doesn’t make sense,” she says. “What’s the point of the referendum if not to abolish the monarchy?”

  “The question is not about whether to have a monarch,” Carlo says. “But rather who that monarch should be.”

  Wait a minute. I think I’m starting to see where this is going. And if I’m right, I may be sick to my stomach.

  “They’re trying to replace me with someone else,” I say. “Someone they can control.”

  Carlo nods. “So it would seem, sir.”

  “But who would that be?” Amanda asks.

  Maria’s eyes widen. “You’re not talking about…”

  “Of course he is,” says a familiar voice from the doorway. “Emilio’s name will be the one on the referendum.”

  We turn to see Isabella standing there, hands on her hips.

  “I’ve had a discussion with the chancellor,” she says. “Neither of us wants to see the monarchy fall as a result of your mistakes, Dante. So he suggested that the people be allowed to choose their leader based on merit – so much more civilized than having to put up with someone who simply inherited the title.”

  She’s had a discussion with Huber? She’s making suggestions about how to word a referendum designed to take my title and my family fortune away from me?

  “Who the hell do you think you are?” I roar. “The monarchy is mine by right, Is
abella. Not Emilio’s. Certainly not yours. I haven’t even seen Emilio in over a week!”

  “He left to distance himself from your scandal,” she says with a cold glare. “He told me about the virgin decree, Dante. I know your marriage is nothing more than an arrangement so you can hold onto power.”

  That bastard. I thought I could trust Emilio! He’s been like a brother to me!

  “Although I really should have figured it out myself,” Isabella says. “Falling overnight for an American farm girl. I mean, really. The signs were all there. She was obviously the first virgin you could find.”

  Amanda looks totally flummoxed. She opens her mouth to speak, but I cut her off.

  “You’re insane,” I say. “There’s no such thing as a virgin decree. And leave Amanda out of this. She hasn’t done anything wrong.”

  Isabella shakes her head. “The Americans do have one wise saying, Dante: don’t bullshit a bullshitter. Now that I know about the virgin decree, I realize It’s the reason your father married my sister. It explains so much about their relationship.”

  So my parents did know about the decree. But – that means they were an arranged marriage? I never knew. God, does any royal ever marry for love?

  “It’s all just so sordid,” she says. “And ridiculous. It’s time the people of this principality took control over their destiny, instead of leaving it to the whims of spoiled people who don’t understand the burden of power.”

  I open my mouth to speak, but this time it’s Amanda who cuts me off.

  “About time they took control of the Trentini money, you mean. That’s what this is about – it has nothing to do with what Dante has or hasn’t done.”

  “Darling, please don’t talk,” Isabella sighs. “We don’t need to hear the opinions of some ignorant American. This is Morovan business.”

  That’s it. No more of this.

  “You will not speak to the princess that way,” I growl. “And I want you out of the palace in twenty minutes, or I’ll have Marco and his staff arrest you for trespassing.”

  Her eyes flash with cold fury.

  “You wouldn’t dare,” she hisses.

  I lean forward and grin. “Try me, bitch.”

  That’s enough to send her storming out of the room.

  The adrenaline ebbs out of me now that the confrontation is over, but the anger remains.

  “I can’t believe she’s done this,” I say. “It’s an outrage.”

  “Yes,” says Carlo, who, along with Maria, has remained silent. “But it’s also a brilliant play. It takes full advantage of the Morovan people’s reluctance to abolish the monarchy, while allowing her to gain a foothold on power.”

  Amanda folds her arms over her chest, frowning. “Not that long ago, they would have called this a coup. And Isabella’s head would have been in a guillotine.”

  “Unfortunately,” Maria says, “we don’t have that option. The referendum is going to happen. All we can do is pray that the people believe in Dante enough to keep him. If not, we’re all going to have a lot of change to deal with. Carlo and I will be looking for jobs –”

  “And Dante and I will be looking for new lives,” Amanda finishes.

  We all stand silent for several moments as it sinks in. This could be a turning point in all our lives. What if they vote against me? What would it mean for me? For Amanda?

  For the children?

  Carlo says: “On the bright side, we have three weeks to try and win the popular vote. All is not lost.”

  “Right,” says Maria. “You can count on us to pull out every trick we know, call in every favor to make this work.”

  “Thank you,” I say. “I know that if there’s anyone who can pull it off, it’s you two. Don’t let it go to your heads, but you’re the smartest people I know.”

  They say their goodbyes and head back to their respective offices.

  “I guess I should go, too,” Amanda says.

  “Wait, please,” I say, taking her hand. “Can we talk first?”

  “What’s left to talk about?” she asks. “Seems like things are pretty much out of our hands now. Our future is in the hands of the voters.”

  “No,” I say. “The future of the monarchy is in the hands of the voters. Our fate is entirely up to us.”

  She looks me in the eye but says nothing.

  “I miss being with you,” I say. “I know we still live in the same quarters, but things haven’t been the same since the photos surfaced.”

  “I’ll stay with you as long as I need to if it means protecting the children,” she says.

  “I know that, and I can’t thank you enough for it. But I want to get back to where we were before all this happened. Where we were in Rome.”

  “I don’t know if I can.”

  “Do you believe that I was set up with those photos?”

  She sighs. “I do. I don’t know what happened, but I know that you wouldn’t have deliberately hurt me.”

  “Then there’s hope for us,” I say, squeezing her hand.

  “You heard Isabella,” she says, shaking her head. “Is there hope for any royal couple? Your parents got together the same way we did. Even if everything works out with the referendum, is Vito going to be doomed to marry a woman the same way?

  “And what about Oriana? She’s going to be second fiddle to him for the rest of her life, just because the male is automatically the heir. Is that the kind of life you want for her?”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I don’t know,” she says. “Maybe I’m saying the best thing that could happen would be to have Emilio win and take your place. At least then, we might have a shot at a normal life.”

  Is she right? I don’t know any other kind of life than this. Could I leave it all behind?

  More importantly, could I leave this nation – my nation – in the hands of Isabella?

  “I don’t think I can do that,” I say. “I’m sorry.”

  She walks to the door and turns back to face me.

  “I’m sorry, too, Dante. I really am.”

  As I watch her walk out the door, I feel an emptiness in my core that threatens to swallow me whole.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  51. DANTE

  “Dante?” Ike blinks like an owl, as if he can’t believe I’m actually standing in his doorway. “What in the name of Sam Hill are you doin’ here?”

  “I’m trying to stay upright,” I say, swaying on my feet. “I’m exhausted.”

  Ike shakes off his confusion and brings me into the house. It’s a well-kept home, about the size of a sleeping cabin for my family hunting lodge in the Alps. Except there, you won’t hear cattle mooing softly in the distance.

  You won’t smell them, either. Phew.

  “How’d you get here?” he asks, pointing me to a chair in the quaint little living room. “I didn’t hear no helicopter landing.”

  “That’s because I didn’t use one,” I say. The soft leather chair is a godsend after my journey.

  “Then how’d you get here?”

  “I took the Falcon to Amsterdam, then caught a coach flight on United Airways to Calgary. I rented a car there and drove south across the Canadian border until I got here.”

  “Holy shit,” he says, eyes wide. “You flew coach? From Holland?”

  “Yes,” I say. “It was… an experience. The food was… edible, I suppose. At least no one recognized me.”

  “And then you drove all the way here from Calgary? That’s a four-hour drive!”

  “I know,” I say. “I was there. I could drive three-quarters of the way through Italy in that time. But here, there were times when I wondered if I was actually moving, because the landscape never changed. I actually went for ten full minutes without seeing another vehicle on the road.”

  He chuckles. “Yeah, that one’s not exactly a scenic drive. Gotta go west to the Rockies for that. Going south across the prairies, all you get to see is miles n’ miles of miles n’ miles.”


  “But I made it,” I say. “Finally.”

  “Which leads me to the question: boy, what in the fuck are you doin’ here?”

  I wish I knew the answer to that. I only told Carlo that I was leaving (and Marco, but only to let him know that he couldn’t come with me), but I never told him why. He didn’t ask, God bless him, and said he’d tell the others that I was trying to clear my head and would be back in a couple of days.

  “I wanted to see you face to face,” I say finally. “To tell you that I would never have done anything to hurt Amanda.”

  “I know that, son.”

  He does?

  “You do?”

  “’Course I do,” he says, pulling up a chair from the kitchen and taking a seat. “I was there with you that night at your bachelor party, remember? You were barely able to stand, let alone – you know, do anything else.”

  I nod. “I’m almost positive that someone drugged me. Those photos were taken so that Chancellor Huber would have ammunition to call a referendum.”

  “Amanda was tellin’ me all about it on Skype,” he says. “That’s messed up. But listen: I didn’t need to see you that night to know you ain’t that kind of man.”

  “But how did you know?”

  He shrugs. “I’m a good judge o’ character. You have to be when you live out in the boonies like I do. You need to know right away who you can count on and who you can’t. It’s how rural folks survive, ‘cause we all need a favor from each other at some point.”

  He says it so simply, but the message is profound. The people here learn to trust each other because they have no choice. In my world, people learn to expect knives in their backs because that’s what they so often get.

  Isabella was a perfect example of it. No one has seen her in the weeks since I sent her away from the palace, but I know we’ll see her at the referendum in two days.

  “I don’t know what to do, Ike,” I say, dropping my head into my hands. “I worry that Amanda will never fully trust me, if only because of the ridiculous way we got together.”

  “Whaddaya mean, ridiculous?”

  I freeze for a moment, suddenly realizing what I’ve said. He doesn’t know. He spent so much time with us, I forgot he was never in on the joke.