Lair of the Lion

curiously reminiscent of her brother. "With you I could be anyone I wanted to be, not the don's half-mad sister. I'd grown tired of that role but had no way of changing it until you came into the valley."
    Isabella saw the raw pain in Francesca's eyes, and it was impossible not to feel for her.
    "You are the only friend I've ever had, the only person who ever talked to me as if what I said mattered." Francesca walked across the room to gaze down at the man lying in the bed, his breathing harsh and ragged. "You even trusted me enough to ask me to care for your brother. I don't want to lose our friendship. I've thought about it a lot, and my pride isn't worth what you gave me." She knelt beside the bed. "I didn't do what Nicolai said I did. I don't know why he would accuse of me of it, but I didn't do it. I would never hurt you. But I don't expect you to take my word over Nicolai's."
    Isabella considered for a few moments. "Is it possible you don't remember? Are you really aware of what you do when you're the beast? Maybe without knowing, you don't want to share your brother with anyone. He's all you've ever had. Just as Lucca is all I've had." Her voice was gentle, compassionate. She knelt beside Francesca and touched her brother's hair.
    Francesca shook her head stubbornly, a flicker of denial crossing her face. But when she opened her mouth to protest, she hesitated, and horror crept into her expression. "I don't know, Isabella," she whispered. "I honestly don't know. But I don't think so. I love having you here. I want you here." Her defiant expression crumbled, and she buried her face in her hands. "If I did that, if I stalked you as Nicolai said I did, then you have to leave here. I believed Nicolai would be the one, with you, to free the valley. But the beast isn't as strong in me—the voices are whispers, and the change rarely takes me. Nicolai is different—the beast is much stronger in him."
    Isabella couldn't stand the sight of Francesca's slender shoulders shaking as the girl wept.
    She wrapped comforting arms around her. "Francesca, you don't know for certain. Maybe it wasn't you. A rogue lion went after me in the valley and again here in the castello. Both times I felt the presence of the entity."
    Francesca stiffened, then slumped into Isabella's arms. She cried as if her heart were breaking. Over Francesca's head, Isabella saw her brother stir, his lashes fluttering open, his expression concerned. She shook her head in warning, and he closed his eyes again without protest. Holding Francesca, stroking her hair, she watched Lucca drift back to restless sleep.
    "Shh, now, it's all right, piccola," she said when Francesca's weeping showed no signs of slowing down.
    "Everything will be all right."
    "Why would Nicolai speak to me like that? He sounded so cold." She lifted her tear-ravaged face to look up at Isabella. "I know he thinks I'm mad, but to have him think I would want you dead…" She trailed off miserably.
    "I'm sorry, Francesca," Isabella murmured. "I know he wouldn't want to hurt you. I think Nicolai is afraid of what he might do to me. It's eating away at him, so he defends me all the more."
    "I see it every night," Francesca whispered, casting a quick look toward the bed, making certain Lucca remained asleep. "Over and over I see mio padre ripping mia madre to shreds. There was so much blood. It was like a red river there in the courtyard." Sobs shook her again.
    Isabella tightened her hold, knowing Francesca was that five-year-old child reliving a horror that had forever changed her life.
    "I was frozen. I couldn't look away. Mio padre turned his head and looked at Nicolai. I knew he was going to kill him, too. He didn't look at me—he didn't see me there. Mio padre used to carry me around the palazzo, whirling me in circles." Francesca covered her mouth as another sob emerged, heartrending, painful, torn from deep within her. "I loved him so much, but I couldn't let him take Nicolai. So I called the lions, and they killed mio padre. I couldn't let him have Nicolai." The large dark eyes looked at Isabella for forgiveness. "You see that, don't you? I couldn't allow it."
    "I'm grateful to you, Francesca, as I'm certain your padre is grateful. You did the only thing you could do, a decision no child should have to make. Nicolai doesn't sleep at night either. He doesn't forget, and he blames himself for not saving your madre."
    "But how could he have saved her?" Francesca protested.
    "And how