Lair of the Lion

intermarried to maintain the balance of power and defend against all outsiders."
    "Sounds sensible," Isabella approved. She could breathe again without the pain in her back. The room was warm and finally thawing out the ice in her blood. She reached for the tea and had to make a hasty grab for her gown.
    Sarina smiled at her. "You may as well take that off and wear one of the garments Don DeMarco had made for you."
    Isabella would have argued, but she wanted to hear the story, "Where do the lions come in?" Obediently she peeled off the dress and stepped out of it. As she opened the wardrobe door and dragged out another gown, she glanced over her shoulder at the housekeeper.
    "They can't have been here in the mountains all along."
    "You are so impatient." Sarina took the dress and carefully eased it over Isabella. "No, there were no lions back then. Let me tell the story the way it is said to have happened. For hundreds of years—maybe even more—the valley was safe from invaders, and although the world changed around them, the people managed to live peaceful and happy lives, practicing their faith wisely."
    Sitting on the bed, Isabella drew her legs up beneath her long skirt and hugged herself.
    "That must have been an interesting time. There's much sense in the workings of nature."
    Sarina glared at her, made the sign of the cross, and tapped Isabella's head. "Are you going to listen to me or risk angering the holy Madonna with your nonsense?"
    "Does she get angry? I can't imagine her angry." Isabella saw Sarina's expression and quickly hid her smile. "I'm sorry. Tell the story."
    "You do not deserve it, but I will," Sarina complied, clearly gratified that her young charge was growing rosy and warm and relaxed after her frightening ordeal. "There came a time when the people became more adept and more daring in their magick. Where once the people were as one, small divisions began to form. Oh, not all at once. It happened over the years."
    Isabella took a sip of tea, savoring the taste and heat. She poured a second cup and handed it carefully to Sarina.

    Surprised and pleased, Sarina beamed at her, cradling the warm cup in her hands. "No one knows in which house it started, but someone began dabbling in things best left alone.
    The beauty of the people's beliefs was corrupted, twisted, and something was let loose in the valley. Something that seemed to creep and spread until it reached every house. The magick became tainted, and once evil entered, it began to take shape and grow. It is said the howling of ghosts was often heard, as the dead could no longer find rest. Things began to happen. Accidents affecting each of the houses. The houses began to grow distant from one another. As the accidents increased and people were injured, they began to blame one another, and a great rift formed between the families. Since the houses were intermarried, it was a terrible thing. Brother against sister and cousin against cousin."
    Isabella wrapped her hands around the warmth of her own teacup. She was shivering again. She had felt the presence of something evil in the castello, yet this was merely a frightening story for children. "That doesn't sound so much different than times are now.
    Our lands were stolen right out from under us. No one can be trusted, Sarina, not when power is involved."
    Sarina nodded in agreement. "There is no changing what is true—not a hundred years ago, and not now. There was the whisper of conspiracy, of evil. The magick was used for things other than good. Crops failed regularly, and one house would have food while another didn't. Where they had shared before, now each tried to keep their treasures in their own holdings."
    Sarina took a sip of her tea. The wind was howling outside the walls of the palazzo, rattling the windows so the images in the stained-glass windows seemed to move under the onslaught. Outside, despite the early hour, shadows lengthened and grew. A low moan arose, and tree branches waved wildly and scraped against the thick marble walls in protest.
    Sarina looked out the colored glass and sighed. "This place does not like talk of the old days. I think remnants of that ancient magick still remain." She laughed nervously. "I'm grateful it is not yet night. Things happen in this place at night, Signorina Isabella. We laugh at the old ways and say they are tales made to frighten children and entertain us, but, in truth, strange things happen in this place, and, at times, the