Read Online Suicide Kings by Christopher J. Ferguson - Free Book Online Page B

that Francesca was beautiful, she was sweet in demeanor, she was sincere. She would have made an excellent wife and mother. At last Diana asked, “Are you happy here?”
    Francesca’s eyes lit up. “Oh yes! I am free of the temptations of this world and through my little window—” She pointed back into her cell at the other transom that looked in on the chapel. “—I can see the image of the Virgin, and pray for her intercession on behalf of my immortal soul. There’s nothing else that I could want.”
    Diana thought about that for a moment. She pulled her own dress tight around her, noticing the winter air that seemed to be sweeping in on them. “Don’t you feel the cold?” she asked at last, not knowing what else to say.
    Francesca smiled broadly and shivered. “Oh yes, I’m freezing.”
    Diana took Francesca’s hand and squeezed it briefly, then she turned back, and began the long walk down the arched path.
    Siobhan walked beside her. “Are you all right, lady?”
    Outside the arched walkway, the indolent flakes of snow came down in greater numbers like ash from a volcanic burst. They were beautiful against the backdrop of the bare cypress trees. The earth seemed so naked of life, and still resplendent in its severity. Diana looked up at the arched roof. She felt tears in her eyes, stinging them. “I feel so sad” was all she could say. “I’m not even sure why.”
    She felt Siobhan’s arm around her. “You’ve just lost your mother. It will take time before you’re right again. Come, we’ve had enough adventures for today. It will be dark soon and your father will be missing us. Let us get home and have some hot food. Things will seem better then.”
    A wave of exhaustion seemed to overtake Diana. They had so long to walk still. Diana could only nod and let Siobhan lead her back into the city. She longed for hot food and sleep and for things to somehow be very, very different than they were.

Chapter Five
    The Prince
    By the time they made it back into the city proper, a dusting of snow covered the roads and the roofs. The flakes came down faster, steadier. The sky turned from gray to black, the city punctuating the dark only with the light of candles, lamps, and the glow of fireplaces through paned glass. Diana felt exhausted; her energy drained, her thoughts fuzzy. She wanted nothing more than to settle in back at home, perhaps have a bit of food before getting under the covers and letting sleep overtake her. Her father might inquire where she’d been all day, but he’d have to wait for answers. She didn’t want to talk to him. He wouldn’t approve. He might even forbid her from continuing down her path, and she’d ignore him of course. What remained between them would crack and what would she do then?
    Diana stumbled back inside the Savrano family palazzo. Siobhan took her coat. Lamp light flickered. The smell of meat beckoned to her empty stomach.
    Before she could relax, an old family slave, a Byzantine woman named Agathi, approached. “Lady Savrano,” she said softly, eyes averted, “a caller has come for you. He insisted on waiting until you returned.”
    Bewildered, she followed Agathi into the study where a young man lingered. He hovered near the flickering fireplace, examining one of her father’s books. He appeared to be in his mid-twenties, slender, wiry with thin black hair. His face was narrow, his nose like a bird’s beak, his eyes cool and intelligent. He might have been handsome in a way had his manner communicated a modicum of warmth.
    “I present Lady Savrano,” Agathi intoned.
    Diana blinked. “Agathi, will you see that we are brought some wine and dinner?”
    “Of course, lady,” the old woman agreed before shuffling off.
    The visitor put the book down and took a step toward her, regarding her with his narrow eyes. “Lady Savrano, I did not mean to inconvenience you with the need for food and wine.”
    In the study, a little table sat to one side for reading and