Lair of the Lion

going, but it was difficult, as Theresa looked faint if Nicolai was mentioned, and Violante seemed to want to sneer at each new subject with contempt. Isabella was secretly relieved when the captains returned to claim their wives.
    Theresa eagerly gathered her things, drew on her gloves, and rose with haste, earning her a frown from her husband.
    "Shall I escort you back to your room?" Captain Drannacia offered Isabella solicitously, his hand resting on the back of his wife's chair.
    Isabella glanced up in time to see the fear and suspicion on Violante's face. The woman covered her reaction by rising gracefully and smiling at Isabella. "It's been such a pleasure.
    I hope we can do this again soon."
    "I hope so, too," Isabella assured her. "Grazie, Captain Drannacia, but I have no need for an escort."
    "We'll have to come back soon if we're to help with the wedding," Theresa reminded her.
    "I've really enjoyed meeting you, Isabella. Please come to my home sometime, too," she added shyly. "For tea."

    Isabella smiled at her. "I would enjoy that. Thank you both so much for coming to meet me."
    "I have duties here in the castello, Sergio," Rolando Bartolmei announced regretfully.
    "Will you see Signora Bartolmei safely home for me?"
    Theresa looked as though she might protest, but she choked back her objection, staring down at the tips of her shoes instead.
    "Perhaps Captain Bartolmei will escort you to your room, Signorina Vernaducci,"
    Violante said with unexpected malice, "just to make certain you don't get lost."
    Theresa winced visibly and glanced at Violante, clearly shocked.
    "I would be happy to escort you," Captain Bartolmei agreed, bowing gallantly, ignoring his wife's pale features.
    "That won't be necessary, signore, but grazie. I know my way around the palazzo fairly well now. Sarina has been helping me. I wouldn't want to keep you from your duties."
    Isabella smiled, but her insides were trembling, a sign something was very wrong. The surge of power had been unexpectedly strong, preying on Theresa's jealousy. Isabella wanted them all to leave, afraid the malevolence was growing. "I appreciate both of you for bringing your wives to meet me."
    Captain Bartolmei touched his wife's hand briefly, bowed to the others, and walked out of the room. Sergio Drannacia took Violante's arm and escorted the two women out, first bowing to Isabella.
    Isabella sighed softly and shook her head. Holdings were the same everywhere, filled with petty rivalries, suspicions, jealousies, and intrigue. The palazzo of Don DeMarco, however, was somehow different. Something crouched in wait, watching, listening, preying on human weaknesses. She felt tired and worn out and alarmed. No one else seemed to notice anything was wrong—they didn't feel the presence of evil as she did.
    She waited a few minutes longer for Sarina, but when the housekeeper didn't appear, and shadows began lengthening in the room, Isabella decided to go to her bedchamber. It seemed to be the most restful room in the palazzo. She started through the wide hallways, looking up at the artwork, the carvings of lions in various positions, some snarling, some watching intently. Isabella began to feel as if she were actually being watched, a fanciful feeling in the midst of the carvings, etchings, and sculptures.
    "Isabella." She heard her name drifting down the hallway. It was spoken so low she barely caught it. For a moment Isabella stood still, straining to listen. Had it been Francesca? It sounded like her voice, a bit disembodied, but it was something Francesca might do. Hide and call to her. At once her heart lifted a bit at the thought of her friend.
    Curious, Isabella turned along the corridor and immediately came to a door she knew led to the servants' corridors. It stood slightly ajar, as if Francesca had deliberately left it open to catch her attention. The voice whispered again, but this time so low Isabella couldn't catch the actual words. Francesca seemed on the move, determined to play an impulsive game.
    Finding the voice impossible to resist, Isabella slipped through the door and found herself in one of the narrow corridors used by the servants to get quickly from one end of the palazzo to the other. Even in her own holding Isabella had never explored the network of servant entrances and stairwells. Intrigued, she began to walk along the hallway, following the twists and turns. There were stairways that led up and across and over and led to more