Page 83 of Ruling Destiny

“Easy for you to say.”

He shoots me a curious look.

“I mean, you must love Tripping back to these times.”

“I thought you did, too.” He squints. “And while I realize that enthusiasm took a hit the second you realized you’d be Tripping with me, it’s still pretty fucking brilliant to be here. So don’t let your disappointment spoil what could turn out to be an amazing experience.”

“What I meant was, you must love traveling into the past, because for a man of your means, with your good looks, it’s the ancient equivalent of being a rock star. The whole world is yours. You can do whatever you want, whenever you want…” My gaze fixes on his. “With whomever you want.”

“Clearly notwhomever.” He shoots a pointed look at me that leaves me wishing I hadn’t said anything. “Though I am chuffed to know you think I’m good-looking. I was beginning to worry you didn’t see me the same way as everyone else.” With a satisfied grin, he sinks deeper into his seat and spreads his arms against the backrest, allowing for the full, glorious view of him.

“Always so humble.” I shake my head and cast a glance out the window, marveling at the passing scenery as the carriage slowly rolls through a series of streets that are far more deserted than I expected them to be.

After a stretch of silence I was beginning to enjoy, Killian says, “I wonder if something’s going on. He’s taking the long route.”

“Should I be worried?” I ask.

He shifts his focus to me. “Most definitely,” he says. “But probably not about that.”

“Then what should I be worried about?”

His mouth pulls tight. He crosses his legs at the knees; then, leaning toward me, he says, “There’ll be a lot of attention paid to us. Not only are we new in town, but in these fancy clothes”—he gestures toward his gleaming jacket and my own shimmering gown—“we’re a striking pair, which is both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because it’ll open a lot of doors.”

“And the curse?” I ask.

“Because standing out makes it harder to sneak about.”

“So…do you have a way around that?”

He nods. “We sneak out under the cover of night. Which is why you’re not going to kick up a fuss about sharing a room. You’re going to take it in stride, like a good little Tripper.”

“You can’t be serious.” I glare so hard I risk getting a headache.

Killian meets me straight on. “I would never lie about that.”

I shake my head and gaze out the window again. “Then you better hope that room comes with a couch,” I say. “Because there’s no way in hell we’re sharing a bed.”

Before Killian can respond, the coach comes to a stop, and the driver announces that we have arrived.

48

“Let me take the lead,” Killian says as I follow him to the door.

“Why? I thought this place belonged to a fellow AAD?” I shoot back, reluctant to give him control. It sets the sort of precedent I cannot afford.

A uniformed guard opens the door, and after a quick exchange in rapid-fire Italian I can barely keep up with, we’re ushered inside where it’s warmer, but only marginally so.

While the exterior of the palazzo struck me as plain, inside it’s really quite beautiful. With high ceilings and shiny marble floors, the entryway is covered in frescoes, and it’s built around a pretty courtyard rife with olive trees and bubbling fountains.

“Benvenuto!”

I look up to see a man descending a wide staircase. From this distance, he appears much shorter than Killian, and much wider, too. His gait is purposeful if not heavy, and he walks in a way that seems to lead with his belly.

He has a dark complexion, a wild mane of black curls that spiral just past his shoulders, and features so coarse, they look like they were drawn by a child using a very dull crayon. But his eyes are a warm velvety brown, and when he grins, it’s like watching a sunrise: the whole space seems to brighten.

Killian makes the introductions, speaking in such quick and fluent Italian that the only thing I grasp is that our host’s name is Cosimo, which I already knew. But once he’s led us to our room, which is really more like a suite of rooms with an expansive bedchamber and another, even larger, sitting room with a door that leads out to the garden, Cosimo resumes the conversation in English.

“I expected you days ago,” he says. “Your timing couldn’t be worse.”

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