"Your Majesty,"Thomas said, voice trembling with barely contained excitement. "You honor our humble house beyond measure."
Henry smiled satisfied. "Not at all, Thomas. Family is so important, don't you think?"His gaze swept the assembled group, lingering predatorily on Marie before returning to Thomas. "I wouldn't miss this joyous occasion for the world." His hand possessively covered Anne's on his arm, even as his eyes tracked Marie's every movement. The message was clear: *I will have both daughters.*
Henry's voice rang out across the courtyard. "Ah, Prince Lorenzo! Come, come. Meet the happy couple."
It wasn't a request.
Lorenzo approached with measured steps, every movement controlled. She kept her expression cold, neutral, the perfect mask of diplomatic courtesy. But inside, she was screaming.
William Stamford stood with his arm around Marie's waist, a casual, proprietary gesture that made Lorenzo's vision edge with red. He was younger than she'd imagined. Kind-faced. Earnest. Everything Lorenzo couldn't afford to be.
*He gets to touch her. He gets to claim her.*
Lorenzo stopped three paces away. "Congratulations on your upcoming nuptials."
Her voice came out colder than she'd intended. Harder. Marie flinched almost imperceptibly.
William, seemingly oblivious to the tension, smiled broadly.
"Your Highness," he said with genuine enthusiasm. "What an honor. I've heard remarkable things about your recent campaign. The defeat of the French incursion at Galicia, they say you showed extraordinary tactical skill."
He leaned forward eagerly. "Would you care to share some of your exploits? I'd be fascinated to hear how such a victory was achieved."
The question hung in the air. Lorenzo's jaw tightened. Images flashed through her mind, blood soaking into mud, the gurgling screams of dying men, her blade punching through throats and chests, the weight of bodies she'd killed to protect her secret.
When she spoke, her voice carried the weight of a general who'd seen too much death. "There is no glory in death, Mr. Stamford." Each word was clipped, precise. "Only necessity and aftermath."
William's smile faltered. Lorenzo took a step forward, eyes locked on him with predatory focus. "But if you'd like a demonstration of how such campaigns are conducted, I would be more than happy to provide one."
The threat was barely veiled. Her hand rested casually near her sword hilt. William went pale. Stepped back slightly. Marie's hand shot out, gripping William's tightly, pulling him closer to her in a gesture that was both protective and claiming. Her green eyes finally met Lorenzo's—fierce, pleading, warning.
*Stop. Please. leave him alone.*
The silent communication hit Lorenzo harder than any blow.
Marie was protecting *him*. Choosing *him*.
Lorenzo felt something inside her crack. She forced her expression to soften, manufactured a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Forgive me. That was meant as jest. The campaign was... taxing. I forget myself in polite company."
The lie tasted like ash. "Of course,"she continued with false brightness, "I would be delighted to share the tactical details of the campaign over dinner. War is far less grim when discussed over wine, wouldn't you agree?" William's relief was palpable.
"Yes! Yes, of course. I would—that would be wonderful, Your Highness."He smiled again, crisis averted, completely unaware of how close he'd come to seeing exactly what kind of monster stood before him.
Marie said nothing. Just kept her hand locked around William's, kept her eyes carefully averted from Lorenzo's face.
Henry watched the entire exchange with barely concealed amusement, like a man watching a particularly entertaining play. "How generous of you, Prince Lorenzo,"the king said smoothly. "Perhaps you can regale us all with tales of Italian valor during the wedding feast tomorrow. I'm sure everyone would be thrilled."
*Tomorrow. The wedding is tomorrow.* Lorenzo managed a nod. "It would be my honor, Your Majesty."
The formal greetings continued—more pleasantries, more false smiles, more careful political theater. Through it all, Marie spoke only when directly addressed by the king. Her voice was soft, properly demure, giving nothing away. She never looked at Lorenzo again. Not once. Lorenzo stood there, maintaining her diplomatic mask, participating in small talk, nodding at appropriate intervals. But she was incapable of actually speaking coherently. Her throat felt sealed shut.
Every word she'd prepared, every declaration, every plea, withered and died before reaching her lips. Because Marie wouldn't even look at her. And that silence said everything.
---
Later, as the guests were being shown to their quarters, Marcello found Lorenzo standing alone in the garden, staring at nothing.
"You saw her," he said quietly. Lorenzo nodded once. "And?"
"She won't even look at me." Lorenzo's voice was hollow. "I came all this way, risked everything, and she won't even look at me."
"She's scared."
"Of me?"
"Of what you represent. Of hope."Marcello moved closer. "She's convinced herself this is the right choice. The safe choice. Seeing you threatens that illusion."
Lorenzo laughed—broken, bitter. "Then perhaps I should leave. Let her have her safe life."
"Is that what you want?"
"No." The word came out fierce, desperate. "But what I want doesn't matter if she's chosen him. He seems to be a good man and I don't think he knows anything about what is being planned for Marie."
Marcello sighed. "We cannot say that with certainty. He could be faking it." "What if he's not?"
Lorenzo said, exasperated. "What if he's actually a good man and she likes him? The plan would have to change. We would be forced to come up with a way to save them both, give them their happily ever after together."
Marcello studied her face. "And if he is a good man, are you ready to do what is right? To let her go?"
Lorenzo's jaw tightened. She looked away. "Go get the troops ready. We proceed with the plan. Have William followed."
Her voice hardened. "The second we can confirm he is not complicit in this, you will adjust the plan to accommodate him as well. Save them both if we must." "And if he is complicit?" "Then only Marie needs saving."
---
Lorenzo returned to her quarters and had dinner served privately. She sent Marcello to apologize, claiming the travel had taken its toll and His Highness needed rest.
Marie, hearing the message, felt something twist in her chest. Sadness. Relief. Perhaps it was better if they didn't see each other much. Henry was elated. He'd finally won. The Italian prince was defeated, retreating to lick his wounds. There was no need to have him watched or followed anymore. That evening, Henry summoned William Stanford to his private quarters.
--- **THE PRIVATE CONVERSATION**
William entered nervously, bowing low. "Your Majesty, you summoned me?"
Henry gestured for him to sit, pouring wine with his own hands, a gesture of false equality. "Tomorrow, you become a married man. I wanted to speak with you privately. Man to man."
William sat on the edge of his chair, clearly uncomfortable. "I'm honored, sire."
" Tell me, William," Henry said, swirling wine in his goblet, "are you aware of the... arrangements?"
William's expression shifted. The nervous eagerness smoothed into something more calculating. "If Your Majesty refers to my future wife's... additional duties, then yes. I am fully aware." Henry's smile widened. "And this doesn't trouble you?"
"Trouble me?" William laughed and the sound was different now. Less earnest, more oily. "Your Majesty, a title of Count is more than I ever dared dream of. My family are teachers and clerks. This elevation—" He leaned forward, voice dropping conspiratorially. "For that, I would do far more than share a wife."
"Share is a diplomatic word."
"Then let me be clear." William's smile turned predatory. "Your Majesty gets Marie first. On the wedding night itself if you wish. I will ensure her comings and goings to court are frequent and convenient. Any children that result..."
He shrugged. "I will claim them as my own. The arrangement benefits us both."
Henry raised his goblet. "You're more intelligent than I gave you credit for."
"I'm a pragmatist, sire. Marie is beautiful, certainly, but she's also my ladder to nobility. I'll keep her content enough that she doesn't cause trouble, and I'll make sure she's always available when you desire her."
"And if sheresists?" The king asked bewildered.
William's expression hardened. "She's a woman, Your Majesty. She'll learn her place soon enough."
Henry laughed, genuinely pleased. "I think we'll get along splendidly, Count Stamford."
They drank, sealing the bargain. Neither noticed the young serving girl in the corner, carefully refilling wine, her face carefully blank even as she memorized every word.
---
The girl slipped out as soon as she was dismissed. She ran not to the main house, but to the stables where the Italian convoy was quartered. She found Marcello directing preparations, coordinating with the soldiers in rapid Italian.
"Sir," she gasped, breathless. "Sir, I have news. From the king's chambers."Marcello turned sharply. "Speak." She told him everything. Every word. Every vile promise.
Marcello's face darkened with each sentence. When she finished, he pressed coins into her hand. "You've done well. Say nothing to anyone. Go."
She fled. Marcello strode toward Lorenzo's quarters, murder in his eyes.
Lorenzo sat at the desk in her room, staring at maps she couldn't focus on. Her mind kept drifting to Marie.
To the way she'd looked in that blue dress.
To how carefully she'd avoided Lorenzo's eyes.
To how tomorrow she'd become another man's wife.
Lorenzo closed her eyes, and the fantasy came unbidden, vivid, torturous, inescapable. *Marie in that wedding dress. But not walking toward William.*
*Walking toward her.*
*Lorenzo would wait at the end of the aisle, and Marie would meet her eyes, no fear, no hesitation. Just want. Just certainty.*
*And when they were alone, Lorenzo would slowly unlace that white dress, revealing inch after inch of pale skin. Would kiss each new bit of flesh as it appeared—shoulders, collarbones, the soft swell of breasts.*
*Marie would gasp, fingers tangling in Lorenzo's hair, pulling her closer. "Please," she'd whisper. "Lorenzo, please."* *
And Lorenzo would take her time. Would worship every curve, every freckle. Would lay Marie down on white sheets and spread her thighs, settling between them. Would taste her until Marie was crying out, back arching, hands fisted in the bedding. *
*Would watch Marie's face as she came undone, those green eyes glazed with pleasure, lips parted, breath coming in desperate gasps.*
*And when Marie was trembling and oversensitive, when she'd come so many times she could barely speak, Lorenzo would finally claim her properly. Would slide inside her and feel Marie's body accept her, welcome her, clench around her.*
*Would watch Marie's face transform with pleasure-pain, would swallow her cries with deep kisses, would move inside her until they were both*
Lorenzo's eyes snapped open, breathing hard.
Her fangs had extended.
Her hands were clenched so tight on the chair arms she'd left marks in the wood.
The transformation pressed against her control, begging to be released. She tasted blood—had bitten her own tongue.
*Stop. Stop thinking about her. Stop wanting what you can't have.*
But she could still see it. Marie beneath her. Marie's skin flushed and damp with sweat. Marie's voice crying her name. Marie who tomorrow would give all of that to someone else.
Lorenzo pressed her hands to her face, forcing herself to breathe slowly. To pull the transformation back down. To regain control.
Then the knock on her door was sharp, urgent.
"Enter."
Marcello stepped in, closing the door firmly behind him. "We have confirmation." Lorenzo looked up.
"And?" Lorenzo asked defeated already.
"William Stanford is complicit. Fully. He knows about Henry's plans. He's not just complicit, he's eager. He called Marie his 'ladder to nobility.'Said he'd make sure she was available whenever Henry wanted her. Said he'd beat obedience into her if necessary."
Lorenzo stood so fast her chair crashed backward. Her eyes flashed red for a heartbeat before she forced the transformation back down.
"That piece of shit," she breathed enraged. "That fucking"
"Give me your orders,"Marcello said calmly. Lorenzo took a deep breath. Then another. Forced herself to think tactically rather than emotionally.
"We proceed as planned," she said, voice deadly calm. "Marie does not let me close enough to tell her the truth. And even if I could, she would never trust my words. She's convinced herself this is right."
"So we take the choice out of her hands?"
Lorenzo met his eyes. "Deploy all units as originally planned."
"Understood."Marcello turned to leave, then paused. "For what it's worth... I'm glad he's a bastard. Makes what we're about to do much easier."
Lorenzo's smile was sharp and cold. " I don't know about that"