Lair of the Lion

Isabella to a neighboring city, where friends watched over her while he was hunted. The moment she heard of his capture, she had begun the search to find the entrance to
    Don DeMarco's land knowing he was the only one powerful enough to help her and Lucca.
    She waited until the guards were gone and the door closed before falling to her knees beside the bed. Lucca wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her shoulder, unashamedly weeping. She held him tightly to her, tears streaming down her face. Never in all her years had she seen him cry.
    It was Lucca who pulled himself together first. "How did you manage to do this, Isabella?" His voice was low and husky, his fingers tight around her arm, as if he couldn't bear to lose contact with her. "When they came for me, I thought they were bringing me to the executioner. They said nothing. I saw Rivellio. He stood on the battlements and watched them take me away. He was sneering. I was certain he was up to some trick." He pulled her closer. "Are you certain DeMarco is not in alliance with Rivellio?"
    "No! No, never!" Isabella was horrified that her brother would come to such a conclusion. "Nicolai would never do such a thing. He despises Rivellio. You're safe here.
    You really are." She smoothed back the tangle of his hair. He was so thin, every bone protruding, his skin gray, stretched over his lanky frame as if it no longer fit. Isabella thought her heart was shattering. "All you have to do is eat and sleep and grow strong again. You owe your life to Don DeMarco—your life and your fidelity. He is wonderful, Lucca, truly a good man."
    Lucca lay back on the bed, his strength leaving him. "The rumors of him are untrue, then?" His lashes drifted down, though he strained to stare at his sister forever, afraid that if he closed his eyes he would wake up and find it all a dream. "Do you remember the stories of the DeMarco famiglia I used to tell to frighten you? Were they but gossip?" He closed his eyes, his body prevailing over his mind. "I owe you my life, little sister. My fidelity is to you."
    She smoothed his hair as if he were a child. "Sarina will bring you a hot drink, Lucca, if you can stay awake." She didn't want him to sleep, she wanted to hold him. She leaned close. "Don't slip away, Lucca. Fight for your life. I need you. I need you here with me, in this world. I know you're tired, but you're safe here. All you have to do is rest."
    For a moment his fingers tightened around hers, but he was too weak to open his eyes or rouse himself enough to reassure her. She remained kneeling beside him, watching him force raspy breaths in and out, watching a choking cough convulse him before he could once more lie quietly.
    Isabella was grateful when Sarina bustled in and took over, propping numerous pillows under Lucca's shoulders and back, allowing him to breathe more easily. She directed Isabella to aid him as she pressed a hot drink of healing herbs to his mouth. He sipped, not attempting to hold the cup, his arms limp at his sides. He was asleep the moment they removed the cup from his lips.
    Isabella clasped Sarina's hand. "What does the healer say? He's bad, isn't he?"
    "The good Madonna will watch over him." Sarina's voice held a wealth of compassion.
    "With a little help from us." She patted Isabella's shoulder.
    The housekeeper left the room, closing the door, leaving Isabella alone with her brother.
    She knelt close to the bed to keep vigil. To look at him. To drink him in. She stared at him, afraid that if she took her eyes from him he would disappear.
    "Isabella?" The soft voice made her stiffen. "Please, Isabella, just listen to me before you hate me."
    Isabella turned to look at Francesca, who was standing just inside the room. She appeared uncertain, even nervous, not her usual confident self. "I'm not angry with you, Francesca." With a small sigh, Isabella tucked her brother's hand beneath the coverlet and got to her feet to face the sister of the don. "I'm hurt and disappointed. I thought we were true friends. I let myself feel great affection for you, and I felt betrayed by your deceptions."
    Francesca nodded. "I know. I know that what I did was wrong. I should have told you immediately who I was. I didn't want to admit I was the don's crazy sister." She looked down at her hands. "You didn't know me. You didn't know anything about me. When I suddenly appeared in your room, you just accepted me." She rubbed the bridge of her nose, a gesture