CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 17

Prince Escalus had my complete attention. "How so?"

"As you know, Duke Brutarious of the house of Acquasasso sought to overthrow my father, the podestà of Verona, by stealth and deception. Through the loyalty of our household, my father caught the stench of treachery and sent my mother into sanctuary in a nunnery, where in time she gave birth to my sister, Isabella. I was captured and . . ." He indicated his leg and his face.

"I know. I'm sorry for your suffering."

"My suffering was over long ago, but the shadows of the attempted coup still stretch long across the streets of Verona."

The shop's dim light complemented Prince Escalus's brooding severity. It smoothed out the scars and as I looked, I could see what a handsome man he would have been . . . and still was.

Yes, a wife to cure that brooding. I nodded. He deserved to be happy. I suppose, as did we all.

"My father, Prince Escalus the elder, rallied our allies and taught Duke Brutarious to embrace the long chill of death and exiled his wife, Lady Pulissena, and the entire Acquasasso family to the damp hospitality of Venice. My father freed me from their dungeons, counseled me on what next should happen to consolidate our power—and that night as he slept was murdered by perfidy unknown." Anger and sorrow laced his slow-spaced words.

I thought I knew the story, but I hadn't heard all. I leaned across the counter toward him. "Did you discover who killed your father?"

"Never." Frustration knit the prince's brow. "The assassin slipped away in the night."

"You have your suspicions?" I wasn't really asking; of course he must think and watch and listen, knowing the assassin was out there, a threat to his sister, himself, and the city he loved.

"The Acquasasso weren't alone in their treason, yet after the coup was quelled, those traitorous houses came to me, pledged loyalty on bended knee, paid a hefty fine, and I forgave them even as I confiscated their powers. Duke Stephano's house of Creppa was among them." He watched while I measured ingredients for my mother's morning sickness—dried ginger, peppermint, lemon zest, and cinnamon—into the mortar.

"I find myself unsurprised." With the pestle, I ground the herbs, fruit, and spice into a fine powder. The scents rose and filled the room, lightening my heart.

Not so, it seemed, for Prince Escalus. He kept his somber gaze on my hands as if fascinated by my prowess. "I would never trust those leaders who participated in the attempted coup d'état. Yet with death and struggles within the houses, family patriarchs do change. As each new head takes his place, I assess him and his loyalty to me and Verona, and restore favors accordingly."

I was both fascinated and flattered. Prince Escalus had been patronizing and infuriating, yet now he spoke to me as if I had a mind, as well as a heart. That was a novelty, and a novelty repeated twice in the last day with two different men. Had the world suddenly become as round as the heretics claimed? "Duke Stephano took over for his father, Duke Pietro."

The prince nodded. "Duke Stephano claimed the old man suffered from senility, that that was the reason Duke Pietro joined the coup, and he sent his parents away to a place in the Alps, where, he said, his father would heal in the fresh air."

I lifted the pestle and stared at Prince Escalus. "Freeze to death, according to Orlando."

"I also heard that, and my investigations have proved it true. He put his parents in a miserable old castle, stripped away all but the most loyal of retainers, and left them to fend for themselves in that cold, hard place. Once they had left, Duke Stephano came to me and oh so obsequiously begged to return to favor." The prince lifted one shoulder. "Should I trust a man who treats his father and mother so callously?"

I thought of my parents and their wild impassioned love for each other and their deep affection for their children. I also remembered the distance between so many of my friends and their parents. "Is his father so bad a man?"

"Duke Pietro, I believe, is weak and easily swayed. His sincere contrition for his part in the rebellion seemed to my eye to be genuine, as did his assurance he'd been told my father and my family would be unharmed."

"I remember Duke Pietro. He was a kind man, at least to the young girl I was. He listened when I spoke. So few adults do."

That must have struck a chord in Prince Escalus, for he gave one of those facial quirks he used for a smile. "I remember him, too. I thought he listened because I was the son of the podestà. It's good to know he was so—"

Thoughtlessly, I interrupted. "Genuine."

The prince seemed unruffled. "Yes. It'll be good to see him in Verona once more."

We were silent. The only sound was the scraping of my pestle against the stone. The only scent was the medicine I mixed for my mother. I felt oddly peaceful here with Prince Escalus, safe and warm. For such an exasperating man, he had an unpretentious air. I glanced up and found him watching me, my face, which made me more aware of the sound, the scent, the peace, our isolation—and suddenly anxious to clarify something he had said. "You haven't yet told me, have you, why it's your fault that Duke Stephano offered for me?"

He lifted his finger. "Patience."

"I am patient." But could you get to the point?

A lift of his brow told me his opinion of my patience, but he made no comment. "When Duke Stephano came to me and begged to take up the Creppa duties relating to Verona's governing, I smiled at him and promised him I would reassess his responsibilities. I proceeded with caution. Then young Orlando sent me a frantic message before fleeing Verona in the dark of night."

"What was the message?"

"That he feared for his life. He was fourteen, ill-equipped to fend for himself without family or money. I sent a man to find him, give him money and counsel, advised him to wait patiently."

My gut burned as I considered the plight of young Orlando. "Should you trust Duke Stephano, who not only exiles his parents, but makes his young brother run from all he's known, from safety and home?"

"My thoughts exactly. I hoped Duke Stephano would make a move against me. Against Verona. Then I would know, and deal with him accordingly." Prince Escalus lifted his hands as if he couldn't believe what happened next. "He must have realized I watched him, for instead, his first marriage ended in an unfortunate death, and he married again. And again."

"And almost again."

"Almost. Your escape came close to the impossible."

I was well aware of the irony of sitting here discussing the horrors that had happened and that could have happened.

I wondered how I had been so lucky to escape the Creppa family's eerie tomb, where so recently Titania had been laid to rest among his previous dead and moldering wives.

The prince continued. "In the meantime, Orlando languished in exile, became a mercenary, became impatient with me."

"Six years is forever to a youth."

"It can be forever for any man. Women are more patient."

I lifted my eyebrows at him.

"Or not?" He lifted his eyebrows back at me.

In as neutral a tone as I could manage, I said, "I'm sure what's true for one woman must be true for all."

He leaned back and scrutinized me, and again I thought what a careful and vigilant man he was. "I lost my mother not long after Bella was born," he said. "She never recovered from the birth, and that was a source of great grief for me, and a loss unimaginable for my sister, who sore needs a woman's guidance. Again I lost my young wife with the birth of my son, and my son as well. You eloquently tell me your thoughts without saying the actual words, and in the future, I'll not try to disentangle the complexities of womanhood without your guidance."

He spoke honestly, and I replied as such. "There are no complexities of womanhood. Every woman is complex in herself, as is each man. You are not the same as Duke Stephano."

"What a compliment. I'll try not to allow conceit to overcome me."

I kept my head down but couldn't contain a smirk. He did have humor, our prince, but hid it beneath a cloak of austerity.

Prince Escalus said, "I don't even understand a man who thoughtlessly and willfully makes so many enemies. How is a prince to discover his murderer?"

"Does anyone in Verona clamor for justice?" I meant, why bother finding his murderer?

"None, when they believe I'm not listening, they seem content to blame you for the murder—"

I gave an explosive sound of vexation.

"But I'm the podestà. My directive is to seek the truth. And . . . in this case, the truth could be a seer."