Lair of the Lion

draft breathed life into tiny flames. It was several minutes before she realized she was not alone.
    Isabella turned over, peering through the darkness to the shadowy figure seated on the edge of her bed. As her eyes adjusted, she could make out a young woman rocking herself back and forth, her long hair tumbling around her body. She was dressed simply but elegantly, obviously not one of the servants. In the darkness the gown was an unusual color, a deep blue with a strange star-burst pattern, something Isabella had never seen before. At Isabella's movement, the woman turned and looked at her, smiling serenely.
    "Hello. I didn't think you'd wake up. I wanted to see you."
    Isabella fought the fog surrounding her. Carefully she looked around the room, searching the shadows for the man. Had he been a dream? She didn't know. She still felt the brush of his fingers against her skin. Her hand crept up to slide over her neck to capture the sensation of his touch.
    "I'm Francesca," the young woman said, a hint of haughtiness in her voice. "You mustn't be afraid of me. I know we're going to be great friends."
    Isabella made an effort to sit up. Her body didn't want to cooperate. "I think there was something in the tea," she said aloud, testing the idea.
    A tinkling laugh escaped the curving mouth. "Well, of course. He cannot very well have you running around the palazzo discovering all the long-kept secrets."
    Isabella fought the haze, determined to overcome her terrible drowsiness. She pushed herself into a sitting position, clutching the slipping robe, suddenly aware she had no other clothes. For the moment it didn't matter. She was warm and clean and out of the storm. And she had reached her destination. "Are there secrets here?"
    As if to answer her, the chains rattled again, the wails rose to a shriek, and from somewhere far away came a rumbling growl. Isabella pulled the covers more closely around her.
    The woman laughed merrily. "It is a secret how I was able to get into your room when your door is locked securely. There are many, many secrets here, all so deliciously wicked.
    Have you come to wed Nicolai?"
    Isabella's eyes widened with shock. She pulled the heavy robe even more tightly around her. "No, of course not! Where did you get such an idea?"
    Francesca gave another tinkling laugh. "Everyone is talking about it, whispering in the halls, in their rooms. The entire palazzo is speculating. It was such fun when we heard you were on your way. Of course, the others wagered you would never live through such a journey or that you would turn back. I hoped you would make it!"
    Isabella's mouth trembled, and she bit down carefully on her lower lip. "The don of the palazzo was aware I was coming, and he sent no escort to meet me?" In truth she could have been killed. "How is it you even knew?"
    The woman shrugged carelessly. "He has spies everywhere. He knew long ago that you wished an audience with him. He never sees anyone he doesn't wish to see."
    Isabella studied the young woman. She was approximately Isabella's age yet seemed quite childlike and mischievous. In spite of the circumstances, Isabella found herself smiling. There was something contagious in Francesca's saucy grin. "What are those terrible noises?" The sounds didn't appear to bother Francesca in the least, and Isabella found herself relaxing a bit.
    The woman laughed again. "You will get used to it." She rolled her eyes. "Silly, really.
    Sometimes it goes on for hours." Francesca leaned forward. "How did you get here? No one can come here without an invitation and an escort.
    Everyone is dying to know how you did it." She lowered her voice. "Did you use a spell?
    I know several spells but none strong enough to protect anyone from the perils of this valley. Was it difficult to get through the pass? Everyone says you did it on your own. Is that true?" Francesca fired the questions at her in rapid succession.
    Isabella chose her words carefully. She knew nothing of these people, didn't know if they followed the dictates of the Holy Church or were devil-worshipers. It didn't sound good that Francesca dabbled in spells, and worse that she would admit it aloud. Isabella half expected a bolt of lightning to crash down from the heavens.
    "I did come through the pass," she admitted. Her mouth was dry. Beside the bed was an ornate pitcher filled with water, along with a delicate fluted glass. Isabella stared at the water, afraid that if she drank it, it might