Lair of the Lion

he is ill, and I came here to plead with you to save his life. I know you have the power to have him pardoned. One word from you, and Don Rivellio would release him. If you do not wish to openly ask for such a favor, e possibile you could arrange for his escape." She blurted the words out desperately, unable to hold them back a moment longer, and she leaned forward toward the dark corner. "Please do this, Don DeMarco. Mio fratello is a good man. Do not allow him to die."
    There was a long silence. Nothing moved in the room, not even the falcon. Don DeMarco sighed softly. "What is he charged with?"
    She hesitated, her stomach a tight knot. She should have known he would ask. How could he not? "Treason. It is said he conspired against the king." It was only fair to answer him truthfully.

    "Is he guilty? Did he conspire against the king?" he asked, the softest of growls emerging from his throat.
    Her heart jumped wildly. Her teeth tugged at her lower lip. "Yes." Her voice was low.
    "Lucca believed we should overthrow all the other countries seeking to rule us, that no foreign government would care about our people. But what harm can he do now? He is ill.
    Our lands, our properties—everything we have—has been confiscated and given to Don Rivellio. The don wishes Lucca dead so that there be no question that he retain our properties. In truth Don Rivellio had Lucca arrested for reasons of his own, and he has profited greatly. It is to his advantage to dishonor our name and dispose of mio fratello."
    "At least you have it in you to tell the truth of your brother's crime."
    She lifted her chin haughtily. "Our name is an honored one."
    "It was until tuo fratello became too loud in his professions of a secret society. Such a thing is not to be talked of to everyone in a tavern."
    Isabella hung her head, twisting her fingers together. Her father and brother had been adamant that the society was gaining ground, small pockets of men amassing the power to defeat outsiders. They refused to bow down to any government, distrusting the motives of foreigners pledging alliances. They swore omerta —an oath to the death.
    "There was no proof!" she said. "Don Rivellio paid those men to say what they did.
    Lucca never talked. Don Rivellio wanted others to believe he had so that those in the secret circle might well assassinate him. He was charged with treason and sentenced to death."
    Her gaze was hot with suppressed fury against the don. "Lucca was tortured, but he gave no names, incriminated no others. He never talked."
    "Has it occurred to you that by coming here you might have placed yourself in the same untenable position as tuo fratello? I might be allied with Don Rivellio. What is there to prevent me from turning you over to him and repeating your treasonous words? It certainly would be far easier than what you propose, and it would gain me not only the don's gratitude, but he would also owe me a favor. The world of power operates on intrigue and favors." His voice had dropped another octave, and she shivered despite the warmth of the fire. Surely no one had ever conveyed such menace in such a soft voice.
    She lifted her chin defiantly. "I am well aware of the risk I'm taking."
    "Are you?" The two words were low, almost a whisper of sound. Ominous. Threatening.
    "In truth I do not think you have any idea." The silence stretched between them until Isabella wanted to scream. The falcon on the don's arm stared at her with merciless eyes.
    "What kind of man would send his sister to plead for his life? He must have known you were risking your own by coming here."
    Her teeth tugged at her lower lip. "In truth he would be angry with me if he knew. But I felt I had no choice."
    "Did you plead so eloquently with Don Rivellio?" This time his voice conveyed something else, something nameless, but it stirred a terrible dread in her heart. She saw his white teeth flash, as if he snapped them at the mere thought of such a thing.
    She wanted to give him whatever answer he needed to hear to encourage him to help her, but she had no idea what he would prefer, so she settled on the truth. "No, I could not force myself to do such a thing. Are you going to help me?" She couldn't stem the impatience in her voice. "What are your intentions if I do not?" At least he hadn't dismissed her immediately. "I shall attempt a rescue myself."
    He did stir then, white teeth gleaming at her from the darkness. Mocking amusement. "I see. And if I do agree to aid