Carpathian 00 - The Scarletti Curse

placed it on the table with bread and cheese. "Sit down, piccola"
    She artfully wove the same thread of authority into her voice that Nicoletta had obeyed since she was a child. Nicoletta stilled her trembling hands, sat quietly in the chair like an obedient little girl, and looked up at Maria Pia. "Is he coming for me, then?"
    Maria Pia fiddled with a square of cloth nervously, every age line plainly visible on her face. "You are aware of the laws we live by. Our villaggio is within the domain of the don. We owe him fidelity and are under his protection. The land belongs to the famiglia Scarletti. Without him, our people would be homeless, powerless, with no means to make a living or protect ourselves from invaders. Two centuries or more ago, far before the curse was put upon the famiglia Scarletti, our ancestors made an agreement, which we have always kept." Maria Pia took a deep breath, her hands suddenly twisting the cloth into a tight knot. "The don has invoked his right to the Bridal Covenant."
    Nicoletta stared up at her, her eyes huge on her face, not comprehending, unable to fully grasp what the older woman was saying. The Bridal Covenant. She had heard of it, of course; all the village women had.
    As silly girls they had discussed the stories of the great and handsome aristocrazia emerging from his ornate palazzo and whisking one of the maidens off to a fairy-tale life of luxury and ease. Of course that lucky chosen one would soon marry off her friends to other young, handsome, rich noblemen. All of the surrounding villaggi and farms owing fidelity to the don had gladly participated in the Bridal Covenant; it was a cause for great festivity. All women of marriageable age had bathed and donned their finery, vying with outrageous flirtations to gain the attentions of the don of the palazzo.
    But that was before they all came to believe in the curse. Before the Scarletti women, and even their attendants, began to die in bizarre accidents—or were so obviously murdered. Before the palazzo was named, in whispers, Palazzo della Morte. Palace of Death.
    "He cannot do that," Nicoletta whispered, her hand going to her throat defensively. "He cannot."
    "He goes to all the villaggi , as if to seek a bride."
    Nicoletta rested her chin in her hand thoughtfully. "That he must do; he has no other choice. He cannot show preference beforehand. But it is another trap he seeks to catch me in." She took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. "We must outsmart him once again, Maria Pia. I know we can do it. If it is not so, if it is not me he is seeking, then it will not matter what we do."
    "You cannot think to be absent." Maria Pia looked shocked. No one could defy an order given by the don. The honor of the village was at stake. After many generations of the tradition, they could not fail to comply in presenting their maidens to the don.

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    Nicoletta said the necessary prayers over her food far too absently for Maria Pia's liking. The older woman rapped Nicoletta on the knuckles when she would have quickly broken the bread. Maria Pia recited very long prayers over the meal, and very devoutly. Nicoletta barely managed to stop herself from giggling like Ketsia.
    "This is no laughing matter, Nicoletta. I believe the current don had no intention of enforcing the Bridal Covenant. It has been two generations since one of our girls was demanded. Don Giovanni Scarletti has given no hint of such a thing, and his decision was so swift, no one has had time to adequately prepare for it."
    "I agree," Nicoletta said calmly. She knew it without Maria Pia's observations. The raven had warned her of danger coming. She felt the danger. "He is looking for me." She broke off a small piece of cheese and slipped it into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. "He is still not certain. That is why he used the demand of the brides. All eligible women are commanded to show themselves, but he does not have to choose. He can return year after year and never actually make a selection."
    "Perhaps he is like a fisherman without a hook." Maria Pia began to relax. "Perhaps we can manage to outthink him after all."
    "He has a hook," Nicoletta admitted at last. She glanced at Maria Pia, then averted her eyes, ashamed she had not confessed immediately. "There is the blood of the villaggio running in his veins. He is also different. I know that he is."
    Maria Pia gasped and crossed