Page 3 of The Cruelty of Thorns

I explained that I had an invitation from a lady, leaving out her title. That brought a round of questions I couldn’t answer.

“Think of us when you’re tangled in the sheets,” Gianni called with a lewd grin as I took my leave of them. I shouldered my way through the crowded street for the two blocks to the fountain. There, standing next to a glossy black carriage was the youth who had spoken to me. He spotted me and waved me over, seeming less reserved now that I had agreed to accompany him. I looked around for his mysterious Contessa and surmised she must be inside the carriage.

When I reached him, he opened the door and stepped inside, indicating for me to follow. I shrugged and climbed into the coach, barely lowering myself to the black velveteen seat beside him before the door slammed shut and the carriage lurched forward.

I looked around; the interior was lit by a single lantern shaded with cut crimson glass, throwing lurid shadows around the well-appointed space. The seat across from me was occupied by a woman in a sumptuous red satin gown. A black lace veil fell to her shoulders from a red velveteen top hat, concealing her face, but I could feel her eyes upon me, an impression that was almost palpable, as though the air was charged with her presence. Her gloved hands were clasped around a single black rose on her lap, the stem of which she rolled between her fingers, heedless of the wicked thorns that jutted from its length. I bit back the questions swirling in my mind.

“What is your name?” she asked after a moment.

Her voice seemed to brush against my ear with a husky sensuality that promised dark pleasures. I had never had a woman’s voice affect me like that, and I tried not to stammer when I replied.

“Julianus.”

She nodded toward me, and I got the impression of a smile from behind her veil. “Perfect.”

She sat back in the seat and continued to fiddle with the rose, but she didn’t speak again, despite the fact that I wanted more than anything to hear her do so. Not wishing to stare, I focused my attention outside the window, watching the revelers whisk by as the driver maneuvered the carriage through the crowded streets. Eventually the revelers fell behind and I noticed we were climbing, likely headed to the foothills on the outskirts of the city.

The ride lasted a good half hour, during which we rose at an ever-steepening pace. Having left the main city behind, the only light outside the window was supplied by the moon, full this night and casting a silvery sheen over the countryside. Eventually we came to a stop and when I looked out, I could see a wide iron gate stretched across the road. A man in a dark uniform scurried out of a small hut to swing open the barrier and the carriage continued past, winding its way up the narrow drive. The high walls and towers of a manor house rose up in the moonlight before us, lights flickering in many of the windows. We pulled into a courtyard ending in a wide columned portico and came to a stop, then the weight shifted as the coachman jumped down and rounded the carriage to open the door.

“Contessa.”

The woman rose off the seat and accepted his outstretched hand to help her down the steps. She straightened and turned toward me as I followed her out and looked around. The boy who had fetched me tumbled out behind me and hurried off across the stone-paved ground to a narrow door to the left of the main entrance.

Torches lit the outside of the massive structure, revealing weathered gray stone that soared several stories to disappear into the night sky. The evening breeze carried the heady scent of jasmine and roses, and I noticed what looked like an expansive garden off to my left where bloom-laden vines spilled over the high walls.

“Will you be needing me any more tonight, Contessa?” the driver asked.

“No, Giovanni, that will be all.”

There was that voice again. I sucked in a breath, determined not to react to it, but my body had other ideas. Without a word to me, she turned and headed toward the carved wooden doors of the entrance. Seeing no alternative, I followed behind her, stopping to look up as we entered an expansive greeting hall.

The ceiling soared to at least forty feet here and was painted with frescoes depicting nymphs and other mythological creatures. The hall was lit by three massive red crystal chandeliers with well over a hundred candles in each. Ropes draped from the tops and tied off on iron hooks on the wall gave testament to how each was raised and lowered for lighting. The floors were the same stone as the walkway outside, and colorful tapestries of lush woodland scenes lined the plaster walls.

An older woman in a severe black dress approached from a side hallway as the Contessa removed her gloves and hat. She handed them to the woman, who nodded in deference.

“Anything else, Signora?”

“Not at this time, Lucia. I believe I have everything I need for now.”

“As you wish, Signora.” She started to turn to head back in the direction from which she’d come, but not before her eyes skirted back to me, and I swear for that brief second I saw pity reflected in them.

There was no time to wonder at it as the Contessa finally turned and faced me for the first time without her veil, and I felt as though the floor was tilting beneath my feet.

She was stunning. A face that could have been sculpted by the gods themselves featured a small aristocratic nose, full rosy lips, and dark, long-lashed eyes that seemed to both reflect and drink in the light. Her complexion was as smooth as fine alabaster, the paleness set off by the deep crimson of her dress. And that dress was something to behold, plunging to a low V in front and tight in all the right places to hint at a body that could drive a man to fight wars in her name.

Her lips curled up in a knowing grin, as though she could read my thoughts. “Are you ready?” she asked, and while I had no idea what I was supposed to be ready for, I nodded eagerly, savoring the sound of her voice.

“Come.”

She turned and led me across the expansive room to a wide, marble-tiled hallway where a massive curved staircase spilled onto the floor. Holding up her skirts, she started to ascend the stairs, a graceful movement that gave the impression of floating above the floor. I followed her, my own footsteps seeming clumsy in comparison. When we reached the landing, she turned and headed down another high-ceilinged hallway lit by crystal sconces and candelabras arranged on the various sideboards along the wall. Above them were more tapestries, and I was struck by the absence of the gilt-framed paintings of ancestors one would normally see in such a fine home.

I was no stranger to luxury myself. My father was a banker at the Banco San Giorgio and as such, lived a life of wealth and privilege. But while our palazzo in the city was indeed fine, it was not on the scale of the Contessa’s manor, and I wondered just who exactly she was. Was there a jealous husband somewhere who would take umbrage to my presence, or was she a wealthy, titled widow?

Naturally I didn’t give voice to my questions, hoping all would be revealed in time. I still wasn’t sure what she wanted with me or even how she had found me. I think I would have noticed a woman of her beauty on the streets tonight.

The hallway we were in was lined with doors, all closed to the rooms beyond, all tall and glossy white with gold leaf embellishments that included curling vines and roses. We finally arrived at our destination toward the end of the hallway. She reached for the handle and glanced back at me over her shoulder, an enigmatic smile playing on her lips.

“Are you ready to become a man, Julianus?”

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