Lair of the Lion

guards watching over my betrothed." His eyes burned with fury. "We heard every condemning word you spoke." His hands were gentle in Isabella's hair, completely at odds with the lash of his voice as he spoke to his cousin. "Take her to the castello. She is charged with treason and attempted murder. Gather my council at once. Captain Bartolmei, if you can't do your part of the job, you are excused and can await the outcome." Nicolai's voice was as cold as ice.
    Bartolmei didn't so much as glance at Theresa. "I have never failed to do my duty, Don DeMarco, and my wife's treachery changes nothing."
    Isabella clung to Nicolai, holding him tightly, smelling the wildness still rising from his skin and hair. "Take me home," she pleaded. She pressed her hands over her ears, trying desperately to muffle the sounds of the lions feasting on human flesh. She kept her eyes tightly shut, her breath coming in shuddering sobs.
    Hatred and malevolence, blood and violence swirled in the air around them. She would never be able to forget the sounds of death, the cries and pleas of the soldiers for mercy.
    The sheer savagery of the night, of the beasts, of Don DeMarco, would haunt her for all time.
    "Isabella." He said her name softly, whispered it over her skin, calling her back to him, needing to comfort her almost as much as she needed to be comforted.
    Nicolai caught her chin in one palm, tilting her head to the side to give him a view of her face. Above her eye was a bump, a trickle of blood, the skin already turning black and blue.
    Flames leapt into his eyes. His thumb removed the blood from her temple, and he pulled her once again into his chest to prevent her from seeing the killing fury burning in his eyes. She could feel him trembling, could feel him solid and real, could feel the volcano threatening to erupt. He held on to his rage with tenacious control.
    Isabella was in far too fragile a state for Nicolai to indulge his anger. He wanted to get her into the safety of the palazzo, where the horror of this night would fade. Nicolai lifted his betrothed onto the back of his waiting horse, his arms and body sheltering her close to him. Nuzzling her hair, he turned his mount away from the sea of bodies and the beasts devouring them. She wept quietly against his chest, her tears soaking his shirt, breaking his heart. Building his hatred and need for retaliation against anyone, anything that had caused this great a sorrow.
    Sarina was waiting at the palazzo, and she enfolded Isabella in her arms as if she were a child, taking her to the sanctuary of her room, where a bath and a fire awaited. She let her young charge cry out her storm of emotions. Tea and the hot bath helped to revive her for the coming ordeal. It wasn't over, and Isabella knew it wouldn't ever be over unless she could defeat the entity, her most powerful enemy.
    "Have they said whether any of Rivellio's men escaped the valley?" she managed to ask as she sipped the steaming tea sweetened with honey.
    "The patrols have been sweeping the valley," Sarina answered. "The pass and the tunnels in the caves are well guarded. It would be nearly impossible for any to slip through.
    Rivellio and his men will become, as so many others, part of the legend: would-be invaders who never returned to their holdings. Who's to say what happened to them? The evidence will be long gone should any seek information."
    Isabella shuddered. Her hand was shaking as she set her teacup aside. She would need all her strength, all her determination, to face her craftiest, most evil enemy.
    She wanted yet feared to see Nicolai before she entered the room where the court was assembling, but he hadn't come to her. Rivellio and his men had invaded the valley with the purpose of taking over the holding. Don DeMarco had a duty to protect his people from all invaders, and he had done so with the least amount of bloodshed to his own soldiers. She pressed a hand to her stomach. In all her experience, Isabella had not been prepared for such a killing field. It had been a nightmare, a horror. In truth, she didn't know if she would ever be able to overcome the sounds and sights, knowing the identity of the beast leading the killing spree.
    She took another sip of tea as the knowledge of Rivellio's death finally began to sink in.
    The enemy of the Vernaducci family was truly dead. Her breath hitched in her throat.
    Nicolai DeMarco had the power to restore the Vernaducci's honored name. She had no doubt he