The Shades of Time

by Diane Nelson

  He passed the long hours shrouded in mist, neither asleep nor awake, gathering his reserves. He sensed the catastrophe awaiting them, its outlines still faint. Much depended on their decisions made in the light of day, the multiple paths diverging, each leading to an uncertain destination, all fraught with peril. This was unfamiliar territory for him—this internal debate. Unlike Cosimo who seemed to relish the mental exercise of what ifs, he avoided that quagmire of plots and counter-plots by favoring a simpler approach … but not this night.

  Reluctantly he pushed the conflicting images and demands to the background. He would let matters take their own course. In the interim he would guard his woman and keep her safe. He would deal with the future if and when it emerged from the shadows.

  The cool light of dawn filtered through filmy gauze curtains—accompanied by the distant sound of birdsong and activity in the courtyard below—punched through Antonio's consciousness. He had finally slept despite his best intentions. Veluria still lay curled in his arms.

  "M'lady? It is time." Antonio murmured in her ear.

  Veluria stretched and turned over, a smile lighting her face, her dark eyes flecked with gold and crinkled with mirth.

  "M'lady? You dare to call me M'lady?" She snorted and slapped his chest, leaving a red mark that tingled and burned and fired his lust to red hot.

  "I believe it is a sign of respect … mia donna." Antonio leered as he fingered where her touch had lit the torch that threatened to explode in a conflagration he would not, could not, control.

  "I think perhaps you show too much respect, signore."

  He felt his face flame, half embarrassed at the banter—something he rarely engaged in, even with his brothers, most certainly never with a woman. He had no idea how to proceed. Getting it right, pleasing her, pleasuring her had taken on such import he hesitated to touch her intimately. Despite his experience he was unschooled in the niceties of lovemaking, accustomed only to relieving his itch with a minimum of fuss.

  How would he compare to Stefano, assuredly the most accomplished of them all? Would she…?

  With a start he realized Veluria had withdrawn from his embrace, the coverlet pulled to her chin despite the balmy breeze filtering through the narrow window. She gazed at the ceiling with a blank stare. A cold emptiness replaced the warmth of her presence. She had shut down, shut him out.

  What happened? Mio dio, cosa ho? What have I done?

  Veluria had more than closed an imaginary door, she'd locked herself away in a cell, leaving a residual wash of thinly veiled disgust and distaste. He prayed he was mistaken but his powers were such that he was seldom wrong. No, she had looked into his soul and found him wanting. He had feared how she would react when he revealed his more vile nature. He should have known better.

  I guess the Demon got what he deserved.

  Antonio slipped from the bed and gathered his clothes lying scattered about the rough wood floor. Angry at her, angry at himself, he dressed quickly and stalked to the door.

  Keeping his voice carefully neutral, he said, "I will see to a light repast. When I return, we shall discuss our next steps." He did not wait for a response.

  Tonio bounded down the stairs and entered the main part of the tavern. The driver and Mario lounged in a far corner looking slightly the worse for wear. While he'd been playing the adolescent with a full blown crush, they'd apparently amused themselves with the inn's wine … and likely female companionship. He'd have been better served to have joined them rather than give in to his foolish whims.

  He slid onto the bench next to the driver, his face set in a scowl dark enough to make the men cringe. Mario was more accustomed to his moods so he simply nodded and leaned against the stuccoed wall, looking resigned to his fate. The driver opted to bolt for the door, muttering he needed to see to the horses. With an unsteady gait, the burly man made for the rear entrance to the taberna and disappeared from view.

  The innkeeper approached and inquired, "What may I get for you and the lady, senhor?"

  His temper getting shorter by the minute he growled, "I don't give a fu—" but caught himself when Mario gave him a strange look. He took a deep breath and said, "Whatever you have," then waved the man off.

  With unctuous concern for his guest's comfort, the innkeeper pressed, "And for you, senhor?"

  Tonio gritted his teeth and hissed, "Nothing." The man took the hint and turned to go.

  Tonio called out, "Wait."

  "Senhor?"

  "I shall require other accommodations." He had both men's undivided attention. Hastening to clarify he said, "For myself. The senhora will stay in her quarters upstairs."

  The innkeeper stumbled over his words, "I-I-I am sorry, senhor. This is but a humble establishment. We have no other…"

  Tonio interrupted, "Fine, I will use," he waved in the direction of his corporal, "his space."

  The innkeeper shrugged and mumbled, "As you wish," and left.

  Mario stared at him in confusion for a moment, then said, "I will move to the stables. The weather suits."

  Tonio was aware that the 'stables' were nothing more than a lean-to shelter, normal for these dry climes. However, Mario would not be so inconvenienced since he had an errand for the man that would take him back to Spagna and away from witnessing his further humiliation.

  "I need for you to take a message to my brother, Nicolo, in the Albayzín." Mario raised his eyebrows but listened attentively. "Tell him…" he paused and thought furiously that he was about to make a monumental mistake, but rushed on, "…tell him we will not require transport to England."

  "Sir?"

  "See if the innkeeper can secure a mount. I need for you to make best time."

  "What then, Commander?"

  What then, indeed. He had no idea. From a ridiculous lovesick fantasy, he'd been cast once more into the role of safeguarding Medici interests above all else. Interests which were no longer clear.

  He should have known better than to let her in. He was the biggest kind of fool. She'd seen into his black heart and been so filled with disgust, she'd … what? Denied him? It was more than that yet he could not explain the devastation to his soul. Yes, even with all his avowal of having been born without one, the truth of the matter was that he did have a soul—a dark desperate entity that filled him with purpose. He wished to God it were different.

  With a sigh he answered Mario's question. "Go home, Mario. Just go home." He handed the man a pouch filled with coins. "This should be sufficient to book passage on a merchant vessel back to Roma. Father will have returned to Florence. Join him there and do his bidding as you would do mine."

  "But, sir, what about you and the woman?"

  "Do not concern yourself." He spoke firmly yet Mario still looked ready to protest. He clearly did not wish to leave his commander alone in a strange country without protection. One thing about his people—they were intensely loyal to him and his house.

  He spoke softly, almost to himself, "We'll be fine, Corporal. There are tasks best done away from all distractions." He looked around the rustic tavern and shrugged. "This will suit for now."

  Mario rose and saluted his commander with the ancient Roman fist to breast. Once more he said, "Sir," and turned to leave.

  Tonio watched his man exit the taberna and murmured, "Godspeed, Mario."

  The innkeeper's serving maid came to the table and waited for him to notice her. She was not terribly attractive—Nico might have used the word 'slovenly'—but her curvaceous hips and bounteous breasts reminded him that he still had an itch to scratch. Letting his eyes travel slowly over the woman, from head to toe and back again, he felt his cock thicken in anticipation. He'd been prepared to seek solace beyond prying eyes and see to his needs, but this opportunity was too good to pass up.

  Pushing away from the table he rose to his full height, enjoying the small gasp and admiring stare as the wench's eyes zeroed in on his straining codpiece. She winked and indicated he should follow her. The innkeeper looked
on with avarice in his eyes, no doubt tallying up a suitable charge for the additional 'services' being provided.

  Following the sway of ample hips, he sighed with regret as she led him to a small copse of trees nestled in a gully behind the taberna. There would be no soft feather bed for this coupling, no satiny skin and a delicious scent of honey and lavender, no sizzle of nerves when their energies twisted and twined in a mad dance of lust. There would be no Veluria.

  With a grimace, Tonio watched as the wench lifted her skirts and pirouetted for his benefit, singsonging, "Você gosta do que vê, senhor?" Sidling up close she bent her head back and licked her lips.

  No, I don't like what I see. Dear God, I can't do this, not with this foul creature.

  Before he could move away, the wench settled to her knees and quickly unbuttoned the codpiece, exposing his raging erection to her eager mouth. She tongued the tip then followed the vein to the base and back, her thick fingers squeezing his balls until he gasped.

  It was too much. He needed release, his baser nature demanded it. Bracing against a tree trunk he thrust his hips, driving his thick length deep into her throat, again and again until his blood threatened to boil and he came on a roar.

  Weak in the knees he allowed himself to sink to the ground next to the woman who was arranging her skirts and preparing to leave.

  He grasped her arm and hissed, "No, senhora. I am not finished with you."

  The woman grinned and slid the peasant blouse down, revealing heavy bulbous breasts. Palming a generous mound of flesh, she flicked at the thick brown nipple until it hardened. Antonio groaned as his cock responded.

  How much is this going to cost me?

  He knew the answer … and convinced himself he didn't care.

  ****

  Veluria's pulse raced at the knock on the door. She quaked with dread at seeing Antonio so soon after her retreat to her safe place. It had been sudden and unexpected … and had nothing to do with him and everything to do with the abuse she'd suffered at the hands of his depraved younger brother. All he'd done was think of Stefano—it had set off a chain reaction of terror, loathing and panic that sent her fleeing in desperation away from all memory of the suffering the pervert had inflicted on her body and her mind.

  The tapping came again, insistent. She realized that Antonio would not bother to politely knock so it was likely a maid servant bringing her breakfast.

  She called out, "Come in."

  A heavy set woman in her early thirties pushed through the door. She braced a basket with fruit, cheese and dried meats on her hip.

  "Senhora? Where do you wish…?"

  Veluria waved to a small round table in a corner of the room. "Over there, por favor." When the woman set the basket down, Veluria asked, "Could you assist me? The buttons…"

  The woman nodded and made quick work of securing the bodice. When she finished she asked, "Is there anything else, senhora?"

  "No, thank you." Before the woman could leave she said quickly, "Wait, there is one thing. Could you tell—" She was about to say Antonio's name but choked it back, not because saying it out loud cut her like a knife, but because they were in a strange country with potential enemies all about. Anonymity seemed prudent. She continued, "Please tell my gentleman friend that I do not wish to be disturbed."

  The maid gave her an odd smile and mumbled, "Sim, senhora," and left her to deal with her troubled thoughts.

  Food was the last thing on her mind but she forced herself to nibble at the fruit, the tang of the orange and the burst of sweetness enough to jump start her appetite. She couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten. She carefully removed the stiletto from its niche in her skirt and sliced bits of cheese and what looked like a savory sausage. Other than the bed and the small table there were no other pieces of furniture in the room. She gathered a handful of nibbles and sank onto the bed to mull over what she must do next.

  That was almost enough to undo her again. Antonio's huge body had cradled her with such exquisite gentleness that she'd allowed his probing, knowing it to be a gift he offered her—a glimpse into the inner man. In one fell swoop, she'd violated all her training, set aside every tenet, every precept to which she'd sworn fealty.

  It was impossible to know precisely how Antonio interpreted the secrets she'd shared, but she knew for a fact that he understood them to be outside of time and space as he understood the concepts. He'd cast an image of a shadow existence—his way of making sense of something that would be alien to everything he knew about his world. He recognized the potential for catastrophe without understanding the consequences. And the thing that terrified her was his awareness that their situation, their relationship, was forbidden, that they were fated to return to their own worlds. But Tonio refused to accept that fate, vowing to do whatever was necessary to keep his heart's desire. For the first time in his life the Demon wanted something for himself alone. Something he never had before—a woman to love.

  Me. He wants me.

  The thought filled her with elation and sorrow. They were more than simple star-crossed lovers, they were figments of each other's imaginations, living in a castle built on sand. And the inexorable incoming tide would sweep that shaky edifice out to sea, taking hearts and souls with it.

  The Sisterhood would see to her cleansing and she would bury the memory and move on to serve and protect, for that was their way. Antonio de' Medici had no such safety net. He would remain in this world, a shell of a man, stripped of his humanity. There would be nothing left to temper the violence and brutality.

  Have I created the monster? If Antonio is indeed the key, is my presence here the trigger that will release the hell on earth that will reverberate through all time and space?

  She trembled and sobbed, "What have I done, dear Reverend Mother, what have I done?"

  Chapter Seventeen

  Antonio leaned against the stuccoed wall, grateful for the hint of cool against his shoulders. The heat of the day, and his exertions—he grimaced in remembrance—had left him drenched in sweat and foul of temper.

  So much for relieving an itch.

  "Senhor?" The innkeeper advanced warily, the flagon extended with unsure hands. He gave a slight gasp as Antonio ripped the jug from the terrified man's hands and drained it.

  "More," Tonio growled and threw the jug against the far wall. He was deep in his cups as Nico would say and he didn't give a shit.

  The taberna's resident whore gave him a wide berth as she set about preparing for serving the evening's meal. With dissatisfaction he observed her shuffling movements, her discomfort evident. He'd been merciless in his demands—on her body and his own—but nothing sated the hunger that sat heavy in his gut, a hunger that grew with every passing hour.

  Idly he wondered how Veluria had spent her day while he'd fucked himself into a stupor. Why did he even care? She was nothing more than a commodity now, something he would take home to Cosimo for his father's research.

  Ah, research, is that what it was? What exactly did they research, what did they wish to discover? What kind of secrets could a siren possibly hold other than a singular gift for grabbing a man by the balls and twisting until he surrendered his heart and his soul, burying him forever in lust and desire.

  Well, no need to worry about that—she'd slammed that door in his face. But he was not without the means to self-destruct. Not at all. Now he could drown himself instead.

  Well, Nico, what do you think, my brother? Do you approve of my solution? You warned me, didn't you? I should have listened.

  Another flagon appeared at his elbow.

  "This is a fine vintage," he announced to the empty room and tilted the vessel to admire the rich red color.

  Research was it? Well, I can do research. I don't need to wait for Cosimo to work his magic. I have magic of my own. If the Frenchwoman has secrets then I damn well will be the one to dig them out of her traitorous head.

  Draining the wine, he let the flask slip to the scarred wood floor wher
e it bounced on the rushes and came to rest out of sight. Antonio pushed the heavy table away and rose awkwardly, his head swimming.

  Somewhere to his right he heard, 'Senhor, are you ill?' but the words echoed and retreated so quickly he could not be sure if someone spoke or he'd imagined it.

  With uncertain steps he staggered toward the door but halted as an influx of patrons barged through, chittering and laughing uproariously at something one of their party had said. The raucous noise set every nerve on high alert. With a sideways glance, the leader of the group side-stepped past him and led his friends to the rear of the small establishment.

  Something about the man seemed familiar but he wasn't able to think clearly enough to remember.

  With his head threatening to explode, he needed to find silence away from the din and the candlelight that sent shards of pain through his eyeballs. Mario's quarters were in the rear of the taberna but not out of earshot. He didn't relish taking refuge in the stables but his choices were limited. Unless…

  "Desculpe-me, senhor," the serving woman husked as she brushed past him carrying a basket with a bit of cloth hiding the contents. She reached for the door latch but he managed to get to it first.

  The tang of fresh fruit and the sharp bite of cheese assaulted his nostrils. The whore'd been tasked with taking an evening repast to their guest. How convenient.

  Tonio blocked the woman's way and held out his hand, secretly pleased it remained steady while all about him images and sound swirled in a dizzying dance that set his gut reeling.

  "Senhor, I must..."

  Tonio grasped her wrist with his right hand and pinched it tight until she relinquished her burden with a gasp of pain. He felt the familiar sensations wash through him ... power followed by an emptiness he could not fathom, nor explain.

  This woman is not your enemy. Do not give in to what they wish to make of you. Make your own future, Tonio.