Lair of the Lion

you."
    Sarina lowered her voice, almost as if she thought the walls had ears. As if she were a conspirator.
    Isabella wrapped her hands around the hot cup of tea. She inhaled deeply but found no trace of any herb she could identify as medicinal. "He seemed very nice, and he was kind to me." She looked up at Sarina. "Did Don DeMarco enter my room last night while I slept?"
    Sarina stiffened, her hands stilling as she was placing the dishes closer to Isabella's chair.
    "Why do you ask such a thing?"
    "I had strange dreams, that you were here in my room and he came in."
    "Are you certain? What did he look like?" Sarina turned to tidy the bed, keeping her back to the younger woman.
    Isabella thought the housekeeper's hands were trembling. She took a cautious sip of tea.
    It was sweet and hot and tasted perfect. "I couldn't see his face. But he seemed… large. Is he a big man?"
    Sarina fluffed the quilt, then smoothed it carefully. "He is tall and enormously strong.
    But he moves…" She trailed off.

    "In silence," Isabella supplied thoughtfully, almost to herself. "He was here last night, in this room, wasn't he?"
    "He wished to make certain you had suffered no injury on your journey." Sarina prompted her to eat, pushing the plate toward her. "Our cook becomes very upset when we don't eat what she provides. Already we sent back your meal last night. She has prepared this especially for you. Please try it."
    Isabella hadn't eaten a real meal in so long, she was almost afraid to take a bite. Her stomach protested at first, but then the strange, honeyed cake simply melted in her mouth, and she found she was quite hungry. "It is good," she praised in answer to Sarina's expectant expression. "What was that terrible scream I heard? That was no dream but someone mortally wounded." She was reluctant to tell even Sarina about Francesca's visit, uncertain whether it would make trouble for the young woman. She liked Francesca and needed at least one ally in the castello. Sarina was sweet, and very good to her, but her loyalty was definitely to Don DeMarco. Everything Isabella said, everything she did, would be dutifully reported. Isabella accepted that as Sarina's duty. Her father had been don over his people. She knew what loyalty the title commanded.
    "These things happen. Someone was incautious." Sarina shrugged her thin shoulders almost carelessly, but as she turned away, Isabella saw that her face was pale and her lips were trembling. "I must go. I will return for you when it is time." She was already halfway to the door, clearly not wanting to continue the conversation. Before Isabella could protest, the door was firmly closed, and she heard the key turn in the lock.
    Isabella spent a good portion of the morning napping. She was still tired and drained from the exhausting journey, and every muscle in her body seemed to ache. She had studied every inch of the room and the stained glass and again searched for hidden passageways, then finally threw herself onto the bed. She was fast asleep when Sarina returned, and they had to hurry, Isabella taking care of her rumpled appearance, Sarina dressing her hair and clucking at her like a hen.
    "You must hurry, signorina. You do not wish to keep him waiting too long. He has many appointments. You are but one."
    "I didn't mean to fall asleep," Isabella apologized. The older woman opened the door for her, but Isabella was suddenly reluctant to step into the corridor, remembering the terrible, overwhelming cloud of evil she had encountered the previous evening.
    Isabella was "different." Lucca told her to keep her strange premonitions and oddities to herself, never to allow anyone to know that she was "sensitive" to things beyond what the eye could see. But Lucca and her father had relied on her feelings when they were looking for allies, when they sought others to join their secret societies to protect their lands from continual assaults by outside rulers.
    "Signorina," Sarina said softly. "We cannot take a chance on being late for your appointment. He will not grant you another."
    Isabella took a deep breath and followed Sarina out the door, patting the angels for good luck as she slipped past. She looked up just as a young serving girl threw water from a golden goblet into her face. The water splashed down her cheeks to drip into the neckline of her dress. Isabella stopped dead in her tracks, staring in numbed shock at the girl standing in front of her.
    A sudden silence fell as all