Ah, family...

            We received word that House Renaud would arrive the next evening, and a flurry of activity distracted me, somewhat, from Prevot’s words. A tailor and several seamstresses came to take Prevot’s measurements and mine, and provided dresses and suits, already made, of course, to choose from – they would alter them to fit so that we would be presentable for the company. Little could be done about my boots, but the cobbler insisted that he could bring a shine back to them, and had other options in his toolbox. I wore house slippers in the meantime and felt somewhat foolish – I was often barefoot or in sandals on my island, but those days felt far away, and I missed them as often as not.

I hoped once the tailor disappeared that Prevot and I would have more time to talk, but Edoardo came to visit with a herd of children in tow, introduced as my nieces and nephews and various other noble children. I could see the strong blood Edoardo had mentioned, but none of them offered more than a gracious bow. I expected I would have to win their favor in other ways, and the prospect, added to my list of people with whom to curry favor and charm, daunted me. Prevot offered to make introductions between the children and Tiago, and my uncle suggested that she sit with his wife afterward, for as long as she was strong.

Loose threads came to mind when I considered my own afternoon. Edoardo was locked in his study with Oscuro, not to be disturbed, so I went in search of my second uncle, Vito. When I asked a passing servant, she directed me toward the village. Captain Collo joined me then and I realized with a pang that I had not seen her until now – hours since we arrived, a jaunt outside of the walls, and only now did I discover my bodyguard. My new bodyguard. My hand started shaking again and I shoved it angrily into my pocket.

“Well?” I asked the Captain, rougher than I liked. I was upset at being left to my own devices, jealous of Prevot’s appointments, and my exclusion from my uncle’s meeting, and it showed in my tone.

She apologized, “I was organizing my people alongside those of the House, and familiarizing myself with the building’s layout. I should have been at your side, Don.”

“See to it that those other duties are delegated to a lieutenant in the future. I will need your attention when House Renaud arrives. And make sure that Tiago and Prevot have guards at all times as well.”

“Of course, Don.” Her voice had taken a neutral tone that I recognized from my own frustrations with authority.

I blinked at her. “Yes?”

She cleared her throat. “I have already executed those duties, Don. Did you want me to accompany you to the village?”

I fought the blush that climbed my neck. “Yes, thank you – do you know the way?”

“I do.” She looked down. “It will be a difficult trek without proper footwear, however.”

I sighed in frustration and ran a hand through my hair. Collo’s eyes followed it and I realized my mistake, stuffing my shaking fingers back into my pocket. She didn’t ask.

“May I make a suggestion, Don?”

“Yes, of course.”

“The Conte Vito’s duties keep him in the village at present, but I expect a meeting could be arranged in the public house – the cooks will not prepare a dinner here tonight, as they are busy with tomorrow’s menu, and you could experience the local tastes before they are served with company.”

I gritted my jaw, the earlier frustration flaring again. “Perfect, Captain, thank you.”

“If you would like to prepare your horse, Don, I will see to the rest and meet you in the stables.”

She saluted and turned to walk swiftly away. I missed Dumas then – she was equally brilliant, but I felt her absence like a limb lost long ago. Adjusted, but occasionally I felt the lack. That idea turned my mind to Tiago’s wound and I felt embarrassed, again, that I hadn’t yet been to see him. I didn’t even know if the surgery had yet been performed.

Should I see him before my uncle? Collo expected me in the stables, and there was little I could do to help the boy anyway…

The boy. I scoffed at myself as Prevot’s words swam around my mind again. My feet started me toward the stable while I remembered: You will not like it. You will cry morality. You will claim decency. But you will see, as in all things, that I am right. You are expected, as king, to bear many heirs and until you do so, you risk a single assassination before power returned, unchallenged, to House Renaud. Claim Tiago as your own, make him swear to abdicate when your true sons are born, and the elevation, even temporary, will keep De Santis’s favor forever. She will win Greco to your side, and the other Houses will see your strength and kneel to your reign with little further encouragement.

It was an absurd idea. Clever, yes, but if the secret was revealed, and secrets were always revealed, the nobility would never stand for it. Besides, what would Tiago’s parents have to say about it all? There were too many people involved already and the lie would never bear to scrutiny. But I had promised to consider it for a day and a night.

Collo saddled her horse much faster than I managed my own, and we rode together to the village. It was only a few miles, but the terrain was rockier than I expected, and I was grateful that my horse was so surefooted, despite the rolling and rocking and bumping. Collo was a much better rider, barely shifting in her seat as she led the way.

I was surprised at the near-familiarity of the village architecture. The colors were muted and the plants were different, but otherwise, I could imagine my friends and fellows coming out of any of the houses as we passed. The people looked kind enough, lighter skinned than the tan I’d grown around, but they nodded kindly, and watched us pass with curiosity that held no aggression. My uncles were noble rules, it seemed.

Collo indicated the public house and we tied our horses at the front of the building. It had two stories, and the bottom floor was nearly a single room filled with tables, many of them filled. A large bar counter was staffed by two identical women that had me doubting my eyes for a moment, and two identical men were cleaning tables, carrying food and drink, and the like.

Collo led me to a table at the back of the room, offered more privacy than most others with a standing screen on one side, and more distance. A man waited there, already halfway through a mug of some strong-smelling beverage. His attention was focused on three ledger books, darting between them in a practiced pattern. A small book on his left had notes in a neat handwriting, too small for me to read upside down.

My bodyguard stepped away to ensure our privacy and I waited for the invitation to join my uncle. It took a few minutes, but he made a final note, closed all of the ledgers and stacked them, and then gestured for me to sit.

I hesitated only a moment at the gesture and strove to hide my reaction to his hand – he had only three fingers, but none were missing as if lost to some accident. He must have been born with the affliction. When he raised an eyebrow at my hesitation, I saw, too, that he had the tell-tale scar of a harelip.

Vito held up his other hand, which had a similar affliction to the first, but he had four almost-fingers there. “Surprised, boy? You’re not the only one. I also have a club foot. What do you want?”

The question was not unkind, and his voice was slightly distorted from the harelip, even as fixed as the surgeon must have managed.

I cleared my throat.

“Never a good sign, that – men carry cowardice in their mucus.” He snorted and took a deep draught from his mug.

“I’m your nephew,” I said, fighting to urge to clear my throat again.

“Oh, aye? Bedetta’s boy?”

His lack of surprise, or really any emotion, threw me off guard. “Yes.”

“You have her look.” He tilted his head. “And my father’s. But you have those thin bones that Ricci always boasts.”

My voice had yet to return.

“Did you want something?”

“To meet you,” I explained quickly. “And—”

“And explain you’ve returned to take the throne from Renaud. He’s a bull, that one. I don’t fancy a fight with him anywhere but at his side. Are you hungry?”

“Um, yes?”

He raised one of his odd hands without any sign of embarrassment or shame and motioned to the staff. “What did you do for work?”

“For work?”

“You worked in whatever hole Tiziano had you hidden, yes? What did you do?”

“I netted the canal.”

Vito nodded. “Good. You know how to fight?”

“How to duel, yes.”

Vito sneered with irritation. “Figures. You’ve more a head for words than numbers, right?”

“I- yes, usually.”

“Eh, most seem to.” He nodded to himself and eyed me closely. I took the opportunity to do the same. He was nearly Edoardo’s twin in build and coloring, but seemed older, despite his fewer years.

“Did my mother love you?” I blurted out.

He raised an eyebrow.

“I mean,” I stammered, “as siblings. Did you all- were you all friends?”

He grinned and I saw gaps in his teeth. “Feeling lonely? Wish you had another Principe with which to share your burden?” He laughed at me, long enough that our food was delivered, and the worker disappeared before he stopped.

I didn’t get the joke.

“Yes,” he said at last. “We were friends. I loved my sister well and so did our brother. We three had adventures and games and jokes and I miss her very much.”

“And my father?”

Vito shrugged one shoulder. “He was a Ricci. They’ve been arrogant bastards for generations.”

I looked down at the food before me and frowned. My bowl was full of a few bites of various things, most of which I couldn’t name.

Vito leaned back comfortably. “If Tano had refused to take you, you would have been raised in my care.”

He must have seen something in my expression because he grinned his gapped smile again nodded. “You should be relieved. I expect Tiziano was no great believer in the cane.” He bobbed his head and I saw a beautifully carved walking stick beside him.

“Do you know how you’ll make yourself known to Renaud?”

“I expect I’ll introduce myself, first,” I said.

Vito nodded. “And that is why you’ll be dead before the next morning. He’s no idiot, boy. He already knows you’ve returned and if you wait for him to attack before you make your move, you’ll be bested a thousand times, and the only decision left for your line will be whether to give you a proper burial, or feed you to the pigs.”

“Do you have a suggestion, then?” I asked, again fighting the flush crawling up my neck.

“Of course I do. But we have limited time, so why don’t we start with what you know of Renaud.”

I raised my hand toward my utensil and he barked, “When you can name a true fact about him, you can eat.”

“He has usurped my throne,” I snarled petulantly.

“Wrong,” Vita snarled back. “Stand on your head.”

“What?”

“Stand on your head, go on. A humiliation for each fact wrong, a bite of food for each one correct. I’ll even offer my own humiliation: you will be my subject, and whenever I am incorrect about you, I will humiliate myself if a way of your choosing.”

I stared at him.

“Wishing you hadn’t come to visit dear Vito, aren’t you?”