Back at Alfonso's Court
On the other side of the continent, in the grand council chamber of the Italian court, Alfonso Di Sforza received a letter bearing his cousin's seal.
He broke it open and read in silence, his expression unreadable. The other council members watched him anxiously.
When he finished, Alfonso set the letter down and leaned back in his chair. "Well," he said with a hint of mockery in his voice, "men will be men."
The council erupted.
"Irresponsible!" one elder councilman shouted. "He has endangered the peace between Italy and England!"
"To abduct an English noblewoman on her wedding day...it's madness!"another declared.
"The king of England will demand retribution"
"We could face war because of his recklessness"
A younger councilman raised his voice above the others. "Gentlemen, gentlemen. Perhaps we are looking at this incorrectly." He gestured toward the letter. "We have no need to remain cozy with England anymore. Prince Lorenzo won the war against France. He pushed them back and forced them to sign the treaty. England is no longer our only option for alliance."
"That may be true," an older man countered, "but to antagonize them deliberately..."
"Please. Enough." Alfonso's voice cut through the noise like a blade. The chamber fell silent.
He stood, placing his hands on the table. "Although my cousin did something... unconventional, he did it by the book. The Proserpina right is ancient and recognized by the Church. We lose nothing...in fact, we have finally gained a foothold in England." He paused, letting his words sink in. "With Lorenzo's nomination as permanent ambassador, we can count England as a lesser threat. He will keep them on a leash."
The council members exchanged uncertain glances but said nothing further.
Alfonso dismissed them with a wave. "We are finished here."
They filed out slowly, still murmuring among themselves.
***
When the chamber had emptied, the side door opened. Uraca entered, her skirts swishing across the marble floor, her face set in hard lines.
Alfonso had always liked his sister. She was like him—cunning, intelligent, and privy to many of his secrets.
Though he sat upon the throne as King of all Italy, Alfonso knew the truth: Lorenzo was the legitimate ruler. SHe should have been king. But she had been born bearing a curse, a dark thing whispered about in hushed tones. And their grandfather, in his wisdom or fear, had chosen Alfonso to take the throne that should have been Lorenzo's by right of birth.
Uraca knew this truth, that their cousin had been denied his birthright because of the curse he carried. What she did not know was the deeper secret, the one only Alfonso held: that Lorenzo was a woman.
"How could you let this happen?" Uraca demanded without preamble. "He has made a fool of himself and of us!"
Alfonso sighed, bored already. "He did what all men do when they are foolish," he said carefully. "He fell for the wrong woman and will suffer for it."
Uraca paced the chamber, her anger barely contained. But beneath the anger, Alfonso could see the pain. Uraca had been in love with Lorenzo for years, and the news of his binding himself to an English woman had broken her heart.
"You could use this," Uraca said desperately. "You could move against him and further secure your claim" She stopped herself, then corrected: "Or rather, ensure he never reclaims what should have been his."
Alfonso's expression turned more serious. "By binding himself to an English woman, he has weakened whatever claim he might have pressed." He regarded his sister coolly. "So if you want my opinion, he was thinking with his balls first, his mind second."
Alfonso laughed then, a genuine sound of amusement. "But you know, I respect his boldness. He is making the most of the life he was given, despite the curse, despite everything." He shook his head. "So why would I deny him this? Why would I deny him the chance to find some happiness, even if it is foolish?"
Uraca tried to interject, but Alfonso raised his hand, his tone turning sharp with annoyance. "You know Lorenzo has spent his entire life risking it to keep this kingdom safe. If it is an English cunt he craves, by all means, let him have it. And that is final."
Uraca's face flushed with humiliation and fury and heartbreak.
Alfonso softened slightly, placing his hand on Uraca's shoulder. "I know you have great affection for our cousin. I know you love him. If he returned those feelings, I would have blessed a union between you. But I cannot force him to choose you. His heart lies elsewhere, however ill-advised that may be."
Uraca jerked away from his touch and left without another word.
Alfonso returned to his desk and picked up Lorenzo's letter once more, reading the words his cousin had penned about the English girl who had captured her heart.
He hoped, for Lorenzo's sake, that it would be worth it.
***
Back at Lorenzo's Estate
Marie walked through the gardens, enjoying the brief respite from the confines of the castle. The morning sun was pleasant, and for a moment, she could almost forget her circumstances.
Then she noticed him.
A young man in the dragon garrison uniform, following her at a discrete distance. Not close enough to intrude, but near enough that his presence was unmistakable.
She stopped abruptly and turned. "You there,"she called. "I can see you following me. You need not hide yourself."
The young man approached quickly and dropped to one knee. He was perhaps twenty years old, with dark hair and earnest brown eyes.
"My lady," he said in accented English.
"What is your name?" Marie asked.
"Pierro, my lady."
"And why are you following me, Pierro?"
"His Highness has assigned me to your service, my lady. I am to be your personal bodyguard."
Marie's eyes narrowed. "I never agreed to this."
Pierro kept his head bowed. "I only follow orders, my lady. If you refuse my protection..." He swallowed hard. "I will be hanged."
"That cannot possibly be true,"Marie said, though uncertainty crept into her voice.
Pierro looked up at her, his expression desperate. "The commander is fair but ruthless, my lady. I beg you...spare me. Allow me to remain at your side. I swear I will not intrude upon your privacy. I will stay at a distance. But please, do not send me away."
Marie stared at him, seeing genuine fear in his eyes. Whether Lorenzo would truly execute him, she could not say. But this young man clearly believed it.
"Very well," she said at last. "You may stay. But keep your distance, as you promised."
"Thank you, my lady. Thank you." Pierro bowed deeply and resumed his position several paces behind her.
Marie continued her walk, but the pleasant mood had soured.
***
The rest of the day passed without any sign of Lorenzo. Marie took her meals alone, walked the grounds alone, and retired to the bedchamber alone.
The bed, when she climbed into it, was empty save for herself.
The next morning, the same routine unfolded. Bath, dressing, breakfast alone.
Bess noticed, of course. As Marie sat in the bath, Bess worked at her hair and finally asked, "My lady... has something happened? That brute Lorenzo has been nowhere near you. Did he do something to you again?"
Marie tensed. "No. And Bess..."She turned to look at the maid seriously. "Please be more careful how you speak of him. I do not want Lorenzo to send you away."
Bess's eyes widened in understanding. "Of course, my lady. Forgive me."
After the bath, after being dressed and having her hair arranged, Marie emerged from the chamber. The routine was becoming familiar now, almost comfortable in its predictability.
Pierro fell into step behind her as she made her way to the dining chamber.
She pushed open the door.
Lorenzo sat at the table, eyes on a book, a cup of wine at her elbow. When Marie entered, Lorenzo stood and waited until Marie had seated herself at the far end of the table before sitting back down.
She said nothing. Simply returned her attention to her book.
The silence was deafening.
Marie picked at her food, her appetite nonexistent.
Finally, Lorenzo spoke without looking up from her book. "I trust you have had the chance to meet your bodyguard, Pierro."
Marie ignored her.
Lorenzo turned a page. "He is young but capable. You will be safe with him."
"I did not ask for a bodyguard,"Marie said coldly.
Lorenzo's jaw tightened slightly, but she did not look up. "Nevertheless, he is yours now."
The silence returned, heavy and oppressive.
They finished breakfast in that uncomfortable quiet. When Marie rose to leave, Lorenzo stood as well out of courtesy, then returned to her book.
***
The rest of the day passed slowly. Marie walked the gardens with Pierro following at a distance.
When evening came, Lorenzo did not appear for dinner. Instead, a maid brought Marie a small wooden box.
"Da Sua Altezza, Madonna,"the maid said softly. *(From His Highness, my lady.)*
Inside lay a ring, gold, with an intricate Eagle holding a blue rose. Lorenzo's personal seal was engraved on the inside band.
Marie smiled politely at the maid. "Grazie."
She held the ring up to the candlelight. Beautiful. Expensive. A symbol of possession.
*What will wearing this do?* she wondered, then closed the box.
Bess looked relieved Lorenzo hadn't appeared. But she noticed Marie's inexplicable sadness, though she couldn't understand why.
Marie ate mechanically, retired early, and slept alone.
***
The next morning, Marie went through her routine—bath, hair arranged with perfumed oils, dressed in another fine gown.
Pierro followed her to the dining chamber.
Lorenzo sat at the table with a plate of fruit before him, studying a map spread across the wooden surface. When Marie entered, he stood—out of courtesy—and waited until she sat at the far end before returning to his seat, wine cup in hand.
The silence was deafening.
"I trust you received the ring," Lorenzo said without looking up.
Marie said nothing.
"You should wear it. It bears my seal." She traced a route on the map with one finger, appearing more interested in the parchment than in Marie's response.
"Should I?" Marie's voice was cold.
Lorenzo looked up, meeting her gaze. "You are my wife. It would be appropriate."
Lorenzo paused, then asked carefully, "What was that about?"
Marie kept quiet, turning her attention to her plate.
She ate meagerly, picking at her food without appetite.
Lorenzo set down her wine cup. "Do you hate the food? The cook can prepare something else if—"
"The food is always acceptable," Marie interrupted coldly. "It is the company I hate."
Lorenzo sighed heavily and stood. "The maids are expecting you to make decisions about the estate. The furnishings, the arrangements—"
"I will not do it."
"Marie—"
"I said I will not."
Lorenzo's jaw clenched. "Everyone, leave us,"she commanded.
The servants fled quickly, closing the doors behind them.
Lorenzo approached Marie's end of the table, her movements deliberate. Without warning, she swept the plates and cups aside, they clattered against the floor, and grabbed Marie's wrists, pinning them behind her back with one hand.
Then she pulled Marie's dress higher, making sure to linger on her thighs, her touch slow and possessive. Lorenzo's face came within an inch of Marie's.
Marie could smell his scent, musky but also sweet, intoxicating and maddening all at once. She looked up into those ocean eyes and saw not a desire to win her over, but one to dominate her, to pretend everything was fine. He had hurt her, ravaged her, and yet had the audacity to behave as if she was being difficult.
"You either make yourself useful in this estate,"Lorenzo said, her voice low and dangerous, "or you make yourself useful in other ways. Let me know what you want. I am happy to oblige."
"You promised—" Marie started, her breath coming fast.
"I promised I would leave you alone if you behaved," Lorenzo interrupted. "You are still not behaving. In fact, your attitude has grown worse."She paused, her eyes searching Marie's face. "It is almost like you are trying to provoke me. Do you want me to take you, perhaps?"
Lorenzo swallowed hard, and suddenly the memory of that night came flooding back—the taste of Marie's blood, the sound of her gasps, the way her body had responded. Her throat constricted with thirst. She could hear Marie's heartbeat, could almost taste the blood coursing through her veins.
Marie replied defiantly, her voice shaking, "Go on then! You have already done the worst you could to me."
Lorenzo decided to determine if she was bluffing.
She kissed Marie deeply, claiming her mouth with bruising intensity. Her free hand explored Marie's neck, traveling down to her breast, playing with her nipples through the fabric. The satin dress ran across Marie's sensitive flesh as Lorenzo applied pressure, circling and teasing.