by Diane Nelson
Friedrich placed a few logs and kindling onto the smoldering coals and prodded at the logs until the dry wood caught with a satisfying hiss. He ignored his young guest, allowing him to view the room's accouterments at his leisure. He shivered at the prospect of explaining some of the finer points about the various devices arrayed about the space. Some would be familiar, others less obvious.
The Duke turned away from the blaze and watched his young—dare he call him apprentice?—with admiration. The boy was tall and not too muscular, with well-shaped thighs and strong hands. Friedrich loved strong hands. And he loved the air of innocence so cleverly masking what he sensed was an adventurous and discerning nature—one that would appreciate and embrace the unexpected.
He padded silently toward the young man, until he stood close enough to whisper in his ear, "Well…?"
Stefano hesitated, unsure, still scanning the space, but as understanding dawned he smiled and nodded to his host.
"Do you like what you see, my boy?"
Stefano sighed with pleasure, "Sì, mio signore, I like it very much, indeed."
"Then, perhaps if you are not too weary from your journey…?"
Stefano turned, his eyes smoldering with lust and anticipation. He husked, "I'm not tired at all, signore, not at all."
Friedrich grinned and said, "Excellent. Gustav," he paused at Stefano's questioning look, "my secretary, shall join us later. But for now we have all this for our own enjoyment."
"Join us?"
"Gustav recommended Wiltrud be your intended. A most excellent suggestion, do you not agree?" The boy clearly did not so he added quickly, "Which is why I wish to reward my faithful servant for his initiative."
Stefano kept his face carefully blank but the small uptick at the corner of his mouth indicated he understood.
"Good, I see you are in agreement. Then let us begin, shall we?"
Friedrich felt his gut twist with excitement as he paced to the door and shut it securely, lowering the cross-beam to keep interlopers out. When he turned around, his new cohort was already fondling a willow stick.
Chapter Twenty-One
Nico sank wearily to the ground. He'd lost two of his complement to mishaps from their precipitous charge through the Mesata Central, relying on local knowledge to bypass known strongholds whose occupants were not sympathetic to Carlos. The tracks had been rough, laming horses and challenging even the toughest of his men, pushing all to their limits.
He watched Veluria approach from the direction of the Rio Tagus. She'd said nothing earlier that day but the plea in her eyes had finally convinced him to stop and rest. While his men saw to the animals and set to finding sufficient deadfall for a small campfire, he did guard duty. Not that his men were inclined to partake of a beautiful woman bathing in the moonlight—all were bone weary and exhausted beyond measure.
Lunging to his feet, he gathered his cape and flung it around the tiny woman's shoulders. They'd said little to each other for days, each guarding secrets that few would comprehend. She nodded her thanks and shivered as the chill air caressed her damp skin.
"Come M’lady, the fire will dry you off in good time."
He guided the woman to a spot opposite where his captain snored softly, the other two men walking the perimeter. He knew he should sleep before taking his turn but suspected, like all the other nights, he would remain in a half-waking state. Fear for his brother, the nagging sense that he could reach out and touch him if only he tried harder… Instead, distressing thoughts from alien images and ideas crowded his mind, distracting him from focusing his search.
"Thank you, Nico." She tucked her legs under the cape, her slim body still quaking.
Nico murmured, "Come here," and drew her onto his lap so he could cradle her in what little warmth his body could provide. They needed to talk. He was sure she would not want to hear what he had to say.
"I'm losing him." He didn't bother keeping the misery out of his voice. "Each day, he grows weaker. I fear we shall not be in time."
He felt Veluria shake her head against his chest, the words muffled and indistinct, mirroring his growing despair. She pushed away and stared up at him, her damp hair cascading about her thin face and narrow shoulders. She seemed to have shrunk into nothingness, worry and care consuming her as it did him.
Angrily she brushed the strands away and hissed, "But we must, Nico. We seem so close. I can feel him also."
There seemed nothing more he could add to her admonition, so he murmured, "Let me do something about that," and before she could protest he spun her about to sit perched on his knees. The black strands fell in wild disarray down her back, knotted and still caked with the dust and dirt thrown up by hooves. The muddy river had done little but deposit more silt and grit. If she were like his Isabella, it was probably a good thing she could not determine the state of her tresses.
When he pulled his fingers through Veluria's hair, separating the strands and peeling away the worst of the grit, she sighed with pleasure, much the way Isabella did…
She said, "Tell me about her."
Disconcerted that she could so easily read his thoughts, he asked, "What do you wish to know, M'lady?"
"You love her." It seemed an odd statement, though the truth of it must be evident to her senses, so he waited for her to continue. "But … you are not…" she struggled to make sense of her perceptions, "…not together?"
Nico smoothed the silky strands and separated them into thick clumps, taking his time, using the activity to help him frame his answer such that she would not see or feel the pain and anger that gnawed at his gut every day of his life. Pressing on Veluria's upper back, he said, "Lean forward," and began to expertly braid the thick hair into a tight strand.
Veluria had more patience than he would have credited any woman, allowing him to determine what and how much to tell. He rarely spoke of his feelings, not even to Tonio with whom he often shared his most intimate thoughts. But not about this.
Sadly she said, "She is not yours to have."
Curtly he stated, "No," hoping that would be the end of the discussion. He was not going to be so fortunate.
"Does she know? How you feel, I mean?"
Nico finished plaiting, tying off the end with loose strands as Isabella had taught him. He wasn't sure he had an answer for Veluria's perceptive question. He'd often felt the adolescent suitor, lusting after his first crush. In too many ways it was true. The boy she'd seduced had showered her with assurances of his undying affection, the man he'd become had hardened and withdrawn, punishing them both for a situation neither could control.
His brother suspected but had yet to press him. It was a good thing. Were he to reveal his agony he feared Tonio's solution would destroy the fragile hold he had on Isabella. He had given her the one thing she desired above all else. The fates had had other plans for her, for them.
Veluria patted the long braid appreciatively, then spun to face him, the wavering flames from the campfire illuminating her features. He had little room in his life for sympathy and regrets but the compassion on the woman's face touched his heart.
She stroked his face, her fingers scraping against the hard bristles. He had no reason to trust this creature but she had insinuated herself into their lives. That she loved his brother more than life itself he had no doubt. With all he cared about hanging in the balance, perhaps it was time to confront his deepest fears.
Inhaling, he shut his eyes and opened his soul…
Veluria was unprepared for the wash of emotions, not so much the volume but the intensity, white hot, the burden of his feelings consuming the man from the inside out. As for all of them, the ugliness of his world had corrupted and darkened his spirit, yet he clung to one thing, and one thing only, his love for a woman who'd eschewed his devotion, yet pleasured them both on an altar of false hope and lies.
She cradled his face with her hands and whispered the question he feared most, "Why? Why does she turn away?"
When the answ
er came, she gasped and wrapped her arms about her belly in shock, the scene playing out in hideous detail, every nuance, every accusation, every bitter phrase etched into her soul.
Nico spoke softly, face twisted in a rictus of pain, "We've been lovers for what seems most of my life. I was fifteen, she was twenty-three." He moved to prod the dying embers with a branch, adding more twigs, then returned to sit next to her side-by-side so she could only see his face in profile.
Jaw twitching, he continued, "The Count was, is, impotent and cannot have children. We were virgins and learned from each other. I knew if I waited long enough, was patient enough, her husband would surely die. I prayed nightly." He hissed, "I am not proud of that but I had little recourse at the time."
"How often did you see her?"
He shrugged, "Two or three times a year only. It wasn't until Father sent me to Carlos' court that I was able to finally spend more time with Isabella. We were very discrete, not even my household was aware of our trysts." Nico rubbed his scalp mindlessly and stared into the flames. "It's my fault. I should have been more … careful. But it was so seldom that I forgot myself, and … and…"
"She was pregnant."
"Yes. Isabella was overjoyed. I was not. I knew it was a mistake for which we would pay a terrible price. I had no idea how high that price would be."
"What about the Count?"
"He knew, of course. Oh, not that I was the one who cuckolded him, but that Isabella had been unfaithful, of that there was no doubt."
"What happened?" Veluria could piece it together from the fractured images she'd gleaned but Nico's pain had been bottled up too long. This thing he carried with him was like a cancer eating his soul.
"The man was no fool. He claimed the child for his own." Nico nervously wrung his hands, the silence deepening between them until she was sure he'd go no further. When he did speak, the sounds came out flat and brittle.
"Cosimo recalled me to Florence on other matters. I was away during her confinement. Only Tonio knew of my distress, though not the reason. He kept me sane and occupied. When I returned to court, I had a beautiful daughter, a child I determined to claim for my own. I named her Theresa in honor of my mother, but of course, that was my child's secret identity, one I would reveal in good time."
Veluria asked, "What did you do next?"
He laughed but the sound came out like a harsh bark of anger. "Do? What I seem to do best. I prowled the back corridors, making deals, keeping secrets. I played my part, handling negotiations, ever visible yet hiding in the shadows. I wanted my child but I desired Isabella above all else, my lust, my love more than I could bear."
Nico paused for the final time. She braced for what was coming, praying she had the strength to offer him solace, knowing he would deny it for himself.
"I, we, decided to meet. I remember," his voice took on a dreamlike quality, "it was high summer, so hot the air felt thick and heavy. We'd ridden to an abandoned hovel, not wanting to risk being discovered. She was … different. More rounded, her belly so softly bulging I wanted nothing more than to stroke it and follow the curves with my fingers, and imagined planting new life in her womb. Isabella's breasts were heavy with milk, creamy white, the tips dark … she was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen and I knew I would love her for all eternity."
The man buried his face in his hands. Lost to her. Lost to a private hell he would never escape.
"It was not 'til next morn, the sky just barely lightening, when we were finally sated. We agreed to separate, I to my quarters, she to the hacienda. For all that I claimed to love my child, it never occurred to me to ask about her. To inquire as to her well-being. I assumed a nursemaid had been employed to see to her security that night. I was wrong."
Nico turned and looked at her, tears streaming down his face. "She'd gotten tangled in the bedding, my sweet daughter, and suffocated. There were none to hear her cries."
Veluria suppressed the urge to gather the man in her arms, fearful still that his anguish could turn to fury in a heartbeat. She understood why but caution stayed her.
The pain in his voice cut like a knife. "She blamed me for luring her away, for so tempting her, for appealing to her baser nature. She said it was my fault our daughter was dead, that I was not to attend mass or the burial, nor could I mourn my child in public."
"Nico, no…"
"She was right. It was my fault. All of it." He brushed at his eyes with his sleeve and lunged to his feet. "Get some sleep. I shall stand guard. My men are weary and I will not close my eyes this night."
Veluria wanted to find some words of comfort but there seemed little she could say. He needed someone to tell him to move on, that Isabella was unworthy of his love. She could voice the sentiments, but as a stranger to the man, they would offer neither comfort nor would they carry weight. She fervently hoped that since he had finally unburdened himself, perhaps the healing could begin.
Her heart heavy, she watched the tall man stride into the darkness, shoulders rigid with grief.
She whispered into the still air, "We'll find Tonio, I promise. I will not allow you to lose one more thing that you love."
Sweet Reverend Mother, please help me bear the weight of this sorrow, for I fear for both our souls.
****
"Come, my lady. It is time to go." Nico had sent his man, Luca, to find her.
She'd been up since first light pacing the river bank, using the water's energy to focus her abilities. Not for the first time she rued having left her few talismans behind at Nico's hacienda. But her exhaustion and the need for haste had overcome other considerations. All she had was her stiletto concealed in her boot. When the time came, it would have to do.
For now she must rely on her own resources. Antonio was close. But … in which direction?
"M'lady?"
"Yes, I'm coming, Luca." She waved him off and returned to the slippery bank.
Where are you, Tonio? Speak to me.
It all flows downhill, the water flows down—
If you die, you bastard, I swear on the Holy Mother…
"Veluria?" She nearly jumped out of her skin as a large hand landed like a dead weight on her shoulder, nearly bearing her to the ground.
"Nico! You startled me."
"I found him. I know where he is." Nico spun her around and gripped her arms hard enough to leave a mark. His face was haggard from lack of sleep and anxiety but his sapphire blue eyes glinted with hope. "Don't worry, M'lady, my brother's too big a bastard to die. God doesn't want him anymore than the devil does."
Veluria pointed downriver, then swept her arm to the south and west. "There's a hollow with some kind of a feeder stream to this river. I think he is there."
Nico grinned. "I think you may be right. Come. There is a town nearby. I think it is time for us to join forces, madam, don't you agree?"
It's about fucking time…
"I heard that."
For the first time in weeks Veluria laughed out loud. As she trotted to keep up with the tall man's stride, she allowed a small kernel of hope to take seed. It wasn't much but it was all she had left.
Luca had her mount saddled and ready. Nico lifted her effortlessly into the saddle and settled her boot in the stirrup. With a flourish he bowed from the waist and said. "Would madam care to instruct us as to the day's activities?"
Nico's men stared at him and then at her, open-mouthed. She urged her horse forward until she came even with the small group of horsemen. They were a ragged troupe, near the end of their endurance, yet their tired faces lit with anticipation, awaiting her command.
"I believe, gentlemen, that today will be a fine day to go … demon hunting."
One-by-one they nodded and moved into formation behind her. Nico came alongside, his face set in a stern line, every fiber of his being prepared to do battle. She had no doubt that by the end of the day blood would be spilled.
And when Nico's done with them, I want to cut their balls off with a dull
blade and make those sons-of-bitches eat them raw, she thought.
Your wish is my command, M'lady…
Veluria kicked her horse into a canter and called out, "I heard that, Nico!"
Chapter Twenty-Two
Nico felt the weariness bleed away, every sense on high alert. Tonio's signature had weakened to the point where it was but a memory, a faint stirring in his chest, heartbeats once synched but no longer.
The hollow lay below his position. Little of the hacienda was visible from his vantage point. Instead he gazed upon a poorly tended orchard, trees branched helter-skelter forming a thick, impenetrable mat that could hide his men's approach.
But he needed to find a way down to the flats without resorting to the rough path on the rocky slope opposite his position. Either that or simply march up the road and knock on the door. With the town so close, almost within viewing distance of the compound, a weary traveler excuse would not suffice and would leave him and his men exposed to potential lookouts.
That he detected no guards along the ridge was not surprising. Veluria recalled there being six or seven men in total, their presence at the inn sheltering her and his brother pure happenstance. They'd taken Antonio only after someone had recognized him, either by reputation or from having had an unfortunate encounter with his brother's unorthodox methods of interrogation. However, whenever, they'd recognized the value of their acquisition, the truth was they'd had him long enough to grow lax in their diligence. Especially if Tonio had become weak enough to no longer require constant surveillance.
The hour grew late, the sun already below the ridge, casting long shadows and obscuring details. It would be foolish to attempt negotiating the steep descent, the loose rock and soil, in full sunlight, never mind in the dark with no moon to offer even a hint of light.