“You’re a genius. Or maybe the columned arcades, fountains, indoor gardens, reflecting pools, sun and wind passing freely from ingeniously positioned and decorated openings, plus a feast of color touched by gold and bronze and silver gave you a clue?”
“You saying I was stating the obvious, Your Royal Wryness?”
He chuckled at her ribbing, pulled her into a run just as her breath evened from the last sprint. At the end of the park they ran down a steep descent leading to the biggest fountain yet. They slowed down as they passed through two gigantic gates.
“That’s where we access El Jamida town. The first gate is Cancello di Cielo, and it dates from the fourteenth century.”
“It’s an honest to goodness triumphal arch!” She gaped up as they passed beneath the dwarfing construction. “Hey, what’s that hand above the gate? I saw a key in the same place on the inside.”
“That’s the Hand of Elaya, with fingers outstretched as a talisman against the evil eye. That’s why it’s outside. The key is the symbol of authority, a reminder to those inside.” She laughed at his villainous tone as they passed beneath a massive horseshoe archway surrounded by a square tower. “And this is the Cancello di Giudizio, which was once used as an informal court of justice.”
“Gate of Heaven, Gate of Judgment. Divine delusions galore. But okay. You make a good guide. You may live.”
His laughter rang out again, and continued to do so as they walked.
They soon happened on a long queue of vegetable and fruit peddlers on their way to the palace complex to sell their fresh produce.
When they saw Leandro, they freaked out like a posse of hungry cats in a fresh fish market. Suddenly she couldn’t see Leandro in the maelstrom of human bodies and eager cries.
He finally managed to include her in their excitement, only for her to find herself and Leandro being dragged onto the leading cart and heading at a gallop into the streets of town.
All the way, people ran beside their cart, deluging Leandro with questions about the time since they’d last seen him.
Everybody in town knew Leandro, clearly loved and respected him. And missed him. The excitement of the situation soon turned to poignancy as she watched the reunion between the people and their estranged lord.
They were offered the use of every home, the food on every table. Leandro, unwilling to turn anybody’s generosity down, arranged for offerings to be taken back to the castle.
It was deep night by the time the townspeople let them go, and then only after Leandro promised they’d return in two weeks to celebrate the Merraba Feast.
By the time Leandro walked her to her room, all she wanted was to drag him inside and just end the torment. At the twelve-foot door that had survived eight centuries, he loomed over her for a heart-stopping moment. Then he lifted her in silence, plastered her against the door, opened her body around his bulk and took her lips, drank her, drained her, ground her between his unstoppable power and the immovable door until there was nothing left of her.
Then he let her down, stood back, vibrating. She saw his fantasies, imagined each dig of fingers and nip of teeth and flay of breath as he hauled her over his shoulder, stormed into her room, flung her on her bed and ravished her.
With an explosive oath, he turned and strode through the arches of the vast corridor until darkness claimed him.
She didn’t run after him. Something she couldn’t—didn’t want to—define overpowered even the mind-numbing hunger.
She stumbled through her door, fell onto her bed fully clothed and prayed for sleep.
Eleven
L eandro had been right.
This new hunger far surpassed the mindlessness they’d once inspired in each other. It was also so different in nature, in texture. It was vast and powerful, not grabby and frantic. It wasn’t just making them tense, it was making them buoyant, exhilarated.
But he’d been wrong about something else. She had been, too.
This arrangement was no longer what they’d agreed on. It wasn’t an all-out fling to exorcise their hunger. The past week had followed a pattern of escalating enjoyment and rapport, each moment creating trust and understanding and appreciation between them—things that had been grossly lacking in the past.
It made all the difference in their relationship. It was as if each hour was a continuation of a long history of harmony.
But it wasn’t a continuation. This was a beginning. This was magic. Powerful, pure, compelling. She had no doubt it would be ongoing.
And there were more wonders.
As Leandro steered his vast business by remote control, as he handled two threats Castaldini faced, one internal and the other external, she had the chance to analyze his methods and views firsthand and find out how wrong she’d been about them. It was a delight to discover they shared the same belief in the power of logic and the art of the possible, embraced almost all the same convictions. It was exhilarating to explore how alike they were, both negotiators and intermediaries in their own way, when they’d started out so differently in life.
Every day, true to his promise, he made use of her knowledge of Castaldini, probed her insights, sought her opinions, discussed current internal affairs, everything he’d never found out through his investigations into the state of the kingdom. Then he returned the favor, taking her through more magical explorations of the seemingly endless palace complex, the district under his family’s rule and protection that was now under his.
During a conversation over breakfast, she discovered that he had never ceased to be El Jamida’s prince.
“My grandfather finally put an end to the expansions,” he was saying. “That turret was the last addition. Ironically, it was the first thing to go—it was decimated by lightning six years ago. But as it was restored, I had a closer look taken at the structure and wound up totally overhauling the outer walls, towers and ramparts.”
“Six years ago?” she exclaimed even as realization dawned. “So that’s what Ernesto was doing here all those times!”
“Yes, all those times when you saw him.” She poked him and he only sighed long-sufferingly. “Seems Ernesto is a double agent. Never telling me he’d seen you, while never telling you why he came back to Castaldini. That must be why he’s all but disappeared since we arrived. He realized we’d compare notes sooner or later and expose him. Hmm. I think I need to have a word with him.”
“Leave poor Ernesto alone. So you maintained this place? And from your popularity within the towns and villages, I bet you had a hand in their picture perfection.”