Lair of the Lion

voice.
    "Signorina, you must understand. It is not safe now. Dark has fallen. Nothing is safe outside these walls."
    The wealth of compassion in the woman's faded eyes only increased Isabella's terror. The servant knew things she did not and obviously feared for Isabella's safety.
    "There is nothing to be done but to make you comfortable. You are shivering with cold.
    A fire is burning in your room, a warm bath is being prepared, and the cook is sending food for you. The Master wants you to be comfortable." Her voice was very persuasive.
    "Will my horse be safe?" Without the animal, Isabella had no hope of covering the many rugged miles between the palazzo and civilization. The roars she had heard were not those of wolves, but whatever made the noise sounded dreadful, hungry, and doubtless had very sharp teeth. Isabella's brother had given her the mare on her tenth birthday. The thought of the horse being eaten by savage beasts was horrifying. "I should check."
    Sarina shook her head. "No, signorina, you must stay in your room. If the Master says you must, you cannot disobey. It is for your own safety." This time there was a distinct warning note in the sweet voice. "Betto will see to your horse."
    Isabella lifted her chin defiantly, but she felt that silence would serve her better than angry words. Master. She didn't have a master, and she had no intention of ever having one.
    The thought was nearly as abhorrent as the murky feeling pervading the palazzo. Pulling her cloak closer around her, she followed the older woman through a maze of wide halls and up a winding marble staircase, where a multitude of portraits stared at her. She could feel the eerie weight of eyes watching her, following her progress as she made her way through the twists and turns of the palazzo. The structure was beautiful, more so than anything she had ever seen, but it was an icy kind of beauty that left her cold. Everywhere she looked she saw carvings of enormous maned cats with razor-sharp teeth and ferocious eyes. Great beasts with shaggy hair around their necks and down their backs. Some had huge webbed wings spread to launch them into the sky. Small icons and large sculptures of the creatures were scattered throughout the halls. In an alcove recessed into one of the walls was a shrine with dozens of burning candles before a fierce-looking lion.
    A sudden thought made her shiver. Those roars she'd heard could have been from lions.
    She had never seen a lion, but she certainly had heard of the legendary beasts that were reputed to have torn countless Christians to pieces for the entertainment of Romans. Did the people in this terrible place worship the beast? The devil? Things were whispered about this man. Surreptitiously she made the sign of the cross to protect her from the evil emanating from the very walls.
    Sarina stopped beside a door and pushed it open, stepping back to wave Isabella through.
    Glancing at the servant almost for reassurance, Isabella stepped across the threshold into a bedchamber. The room was large, the fireplace roaring with the warmth of red and orange flames. She was too tired and drained to do more than offer a murmur of appreciation for the beauty of the long row of stained-glass windows and the carved furniture. Even the huge bed with the thick quilt only penetrated the edge of her awareness. She had poured every ounce of her courage and strength into getting to this place, into seeing the elusive Don Nicolai DeMarco.
    "Are you certain he will not see me tonight?" Isabella asked. "Please, if you would just let him know the urgency of my visit, I am certain he would change his mind. Would you try?" She stripped off her fur-lined gloves and tossed them onto the ornate dresser.
    "Just by your coming to this forbidden place, the Master knows that what you seek is of great importance to you. You must understand, it is not of importance to him. He has his own problems to deal with." Sarina's voice was gentle, even kind. She started to move out of the bedchamber but turned back. She looked around the room, out into the hall, and then back at Isabella. "You are very young. Didn't anyone warn you away from this place?
    Weren't you told to stay away?" Her voice held a scolding note, a gentle one but a reprimand all the same. "Where are your parents, piccola?"
    Isabella crossed the room, keeping her face turned away, afraid the sympathetic note in the woman's voice would be her undoing. She wanted to crumble into a