Carpathian 00 - The Scarletti Curse

the bedchamber, Nicoletta.
    There is talk that no one has ever seen him so angry. They are afraid in the palazzo. It is very quiet.
    Hundreds of soldiers are combing the courtyard and labyrinth. I think it best if you do not test his patience further."
    Nicoletta thought Maria Pia was right about the don, but she intended to alleviate Ketsia's worry at the Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    first opportunity. She waited until everyone had gone, leaving her alone with the Sophie. "You see, bambina? I am fine. A small incidente. All the other talk is silly. I need your help, though, piccola. For something more important."
    Sophie's eyes were enormous with pride at the opportunity to help Nicoletta. "What can I do?"
    "Do you remember when you were so sick and I first came to the palazzo to give you aid?" Nicoletta ruffled the child's hair tenderly. "Sometimes things we think are very bad can be good, no? This is how I met you."
    Sophie climbed up onto the bed and wriggled into Nicoletta's lap. "I am glad I was sick, then," she said solemnly.
    Nicoletta kissed the top of the child's head. "I want you to tell me how you came to eat the soup that made you ill. No one can hear you but me, so you know you will not get into trouble." She did her best to sound reassuring.
    Sophie looked away, clearly not wanting to answer her. "Papa was very angry with me," she admitted reluctantly. "I asked Bernado to make me a special dinner, but I did not like it after all, and I refused to eat it." She wrinkled her nose. "Papa said not to be like that, that the cook had gone to much trouble for me." She looked down at her hands. "I threw the plate on the floor and was very bad." The admission came in a small voice.
    "Why did you do that, piccola? It is not like you to hurt Bernado's feelings."
    Sophie hung her head. "Papa always listens to Zia Portia. She said if I asked for it, I had to eat it, and Margerita laughed at me. But they did not eat it. They said mean things and made faces, and Papa listened to them. I thought if I acted like them, he would listen to me, too. I just wanted him to listen to me."
    Nicoletta hugged the child closer. "I understand, bambina. But you know now that is not a good way to get your Papa's attention. Poor Bernado was very hurt, no? Tell me about the soup," she encouraged.
    Sophie nestled closer into Nicoletta, taking her hand trustingly. "Papa sent me to bed and said I could not eat until morning, but I waited until it was very late, and I went to the kitchen and found the soup.
    Bernado made it for Zio Gino. It is his favorite, but often he cannot stop working to eat with us. Bernado always leaves the soup pot hanging in the kitchen hearth. I took Zio Gino's soup."
    "Because you were very hungry," Nicoletta said sympathetically.
    Sophie nodded, pressing her hands to her stomach as if remembering its emptiness. "Zio Gino came in and saw me. But he did not yell. He laughed and began to eat it with me out of the same bowl. Papa came in, and he was angry with me."
    "Because you had disobeyed him and gotten out of bed when he was punishing you," Nicoletta reminded her.
    Sophie's voice was indignant. "He said I was very bad to eat my zio's food when he worked hard and was surely hungry." Large tears swam in the child's eyes. "Zio Gino said it was fine because there was plenty of soup to share, but Papa was still angry and said Zio Gino spoiled me so I rotted."

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    Nicoletta hugged her in reassurance. "You are not rotten, my sweet bambino, not at all. Your zio was right to share his soup, but you must not disobey like that again." She kissed her. "Thank you for telling me. Now we should go find Ketsia, or she will cry until Maria Pia becomes upset with us."
    So the soup had been poisoned to kill Giovanni, not Sophie, just as Nicoletta suspected. Aljandro had probably come to kill the don, not Nicoletta. Somewhere in the palazzo, a murderer lay in wait, biding his time. Nicoletta didn't know if it was for political or personal reasons, but she knew, without a doubt, that Don Giovanni Scarletti was in terrible danger.
    As Nicoletta walked with Sophie along the upstairs hallway with its vast spaces and vaulted ceilings, she heard the low murmur of feminine voices hissing softly back and forth. Portia and Margerita were arguing again, the sounds bitter and angry. Nicoletta touched her swollen