Chapter 2
STEFANO
Ihopped down from the black stallion I’d commandeered at the marina, chest heaving. I had needed that ride. Weeks spent on a ship sailing from Sicily to the south of England, followed by days on a cramped narrowboat pulled by a carthorse had left me restless.
I stood looking up at the grey stone of the modest castle where I would be hosted by the prince; its crenellations like broken teeth, windows like empty eye sockets glaring down at me.
I thought of my home in Sicily, the palazzo with its beautiful mosaics and inlaid marble, and almost shuddered at the brutal ugliness of this place.
“What the devil was that?” Gasped Dominico as he finally caught up to me and dismounted.
I turned, chuckling. Apparently, my good friend and the head of my personal guard had not enjoyed the ride as much as I had. “Sorry, amico, were you shouting to me? I couldn’t hear a thing over the wind rushing in my ears.” I smirked, and Nico shook his head.
“You’re a reckless fool, Stefano. What if there’d been an ambush? Some fugitive hiding in the bushes, or a band of thieves waiting for unsuspecting nobles to rob?”
“Then I would have come upon them first and dispatched them long before you and the carriages arrived. They’d be no match for me and my trusty spada.” I patted the rapier sheathed at my hip, but Dominico’s expression remained grim.
“It is my duty to protect you, my lord. Allow me the courtesy of doing my job.”
I felt my jaw clench at his use of my title but didn’t draw attention to it.
There was no point arguing with Nico when he was in one of his moods.
We’d trained together since adolescence and were closer than brothers—certainly closer than I was to any of my own three brothers—and Dominico only used my title when he was truly furious with me.
But he would come around as soon as he’d had a hot bath and a good meal.
We’d come to England for a fresh start, a new life defending the Royal Forests and all who dwelled within them against the scourge of witchcraft, and I wasn’t going to let Dominico’s foul mood rub off on me when we had only just arrived.
I gripped his shoulder and flashed him a lopsided grin. “You worry too much, amico.”
The carriages pulled up then, surrounded by the prince’s cavalry soldiers. An officer wearing a pristine uniform with Prince John’s sigil pinned to his chest hopped down from the first carriage and hurried over to take the stallion’s reins.
“Ah, there you are,” I said, handing off the sleek black steed.
“He’s a fine mount, thank you for indulging me.
” The idea of riding in a padded and velvet draped box after the weeks I’d already spent travelling hadn’t compared to the exhilaration of galloping through the woods on that glorious beast. I patted the horse’s sweaty neck. “What’s his name?”
The young soldier bowed his head. “Gethin, my lord.”
“A good, strong name.” I nodded and he led the stallion away. I would have Prince John reassign the horse to me. A lowly soldier had no need of such a fine animal, and we’d bonded on our brief but memorable journey together.
I watched as servants dashed out from the castle to unload my luggage from the carriages, struggling under the weight of the gifts I had brought for the prince.
It had been my father’s idea to bring traditional Sicilian goods to impress Prince John—our estate near Palermo included acres of lemon trees and date palms. Ordering his staff to load my trunks with jars of candied peel and dried dates, and tightly wrapped bundles of spices, my father, Marquis Ugo Di Reinalto, had never looked so proud.
As the youngest of four sons, I had been nothing more than an inconvenience to my father.
My eldest brother had been training to take the lordship his entire life.
My second brother had entered the monastery after finishing his schooling, and my third brother had joined the Tercio of Sicily, a branch of the Spanish Imperial Army.
I had spent most of my childhood clinging to my mother’s skirt, helping her in the gardens and the kitchen. Until she’d died in childbirth when I was nine years old. The child, my baby sister, had not survived.
After that, my father had had no interest in me and I’d found myself getting into mischief; until a kindly sergeant had taken me under his wing and taught me everything he knew about patrolling the island and rooting out the vile perpetrators of witchcraft.
And that was how I had come to find myself accepting the role of High Sheriff of the Royal Forests in the middle of England, a country hundreds of miles away from my home in the Tyrrhenian Sea. And finally making my father proud.
“Ah, here you are! Lord Di Reinalto, I presume?” Prince John had emerged from the castle and stood at the top of the steps, his enormous bulk draped in furs, his arms held wide. “Welcome to the Royal Forests. I trust your journey was smooth and comfortable?”
I swallowed the remark on the tip of my tongue and nodded, painting a smile onto my face.
“It was, indeed. Thank you, Your Royal Highness.” I bowed low in a show of deference.
Rising after slightly longer than strictly necessary, I gestured up at the castle’s facade.
“Your home is magnificent.” I’d grown up surrounded by the nobility and knew a certain amount of ego stroking would work in my favour.
Prince John glanced at the cold grey stone, a quizzical expression on his lined face.
“Yes, well. It’s one of many royal residences my father has bestowed upon me in his absence, but as the Royal Forests have become a hotbed for witch activity in recent years, I chose this one as my seat from which to tackle the issue.
Closer to the action, you see. I do prefer to take a hands-on approach with these things, don’t you, Lord di Reinalto?
” His blue-grey eyes cut to the core of me as well as any steel blade.
“Indeed, I do, Sir. And please, do call me Stefano.” I bowed again, for good measure. I could feel Dominico’s eyes on my back as he stood to attention behind me. I would definitely be in for a good ribbing from my friend later, but I didn’t care.
Prince John smiled—a slow, serpentine thing that turned his regal features cruel. I had played my role to perfection and soon would reap the benefits of what I had sown.
“Stefano, of course. We are to be family soon, after all.” Prince John gripped my shoulder tightly, beaming. “Tomorrow evening, there will be a banquet to announce your arrival, and to declare your betrothal to my daughter, Lady Gwyn.”
There it was. My reward for leaving my home and family hundreds of miles across the sea and coming to England to offer my expertise in witch hunting.
Once the prince’s daughter and I were married, I would inherit everything I saw before me, and plenty more besides.
All I could hope for was an obedient wife, a handful of sons, and an untimely death for my soon-to-be father-in-law.
“Now, I’m sure you’re exhausted from your journey.
I’ll have a servant show you to your rooms. I see you have brought your own man, but I’ve taken the liberty of assigning two of my finest guards to your protection.
They’ll be at your beck and call, day and night.
Anything you need, they will provide.” He snapped his fingers and two soldiers in dark-grey uniforms with neatly trimmed beards and short swords strapped to their hips appeared beside me.
The prince’s words had been innocent enough, but I knew what lay beneath.
I was to be watched by the prince’s spies, so my behaviour must be impeccable at all times.
Especially as the engagement to his daughter—Lady Gwendolyn?
Gwyneth? Guinevere? Who could remember—had not yet been announced publicly.
“You are too generous, Highness. I appreciate the kind offer, and I’m sure Dominico and these fine fellows will get along very well.
Now, I would very much like to eat a meal, and perhaps take a bath, if your servants are amenable.
” I saw irritation flicker in the prince’s eyes at my impertinence, and I flashed a crooked smile.
In my experience of higher nobles, it was important to test the boundaries early on and find the line in the sand.
Most of them showed a grudging respect for anyone courageous enough to speak their mind without fear.
I couldn’t read Prince John’s expression as easily, but after a moment he nodded and gestured to a young serving girl waiting nearby.
“Please escort Lord di Reinalto to his rooms, Margery.” The girl hurried towards the castle, head bowed, and I moved to follow her.
As I passed the prince, his hand snapped out and he gripped my upper arm, halting me.
His voice was low and threaded with ice.
“I do hope I haven’t made a mistake in inviting you here, Stefano.
The High Sheriff of the Royal Forests is a highly respected role, and I expect to see results.
I took a risk on you; don’t make me regret it. ”
He released my arm and flicked his fingers at the girl, who had paused on the threshold, sending her on.
I nodded, eyes cast down, before following.
I might have tested the waters too soon, but I could salvage the situation.
I just needed to embody the perfect witch hunter and son-in-law until the prince’s good opinion of me could be carved in stone.
My mission for the following days: find and kill some witches, charm a young noblewoman, and keep my nose clean. How difficult could that be?