Fiorenzo by Sebastian Nothwell

Author:Sebastian Nothwell [Nothwell, Sebastian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-09-29T18:30:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Enzo’s first instinct bid him challenge the impresario to a duel.

He reined in the idea the instant it arose. As satisfying as it might prove to plunge his blade through the monster’s heart, to do so now would hardly aid Fiore in this moment. At present the thing to do was whatever Fiore asked of him.

But Fiore seemed hardly able to ask anything.

Enzo had glimpsed Fiore’s fear before. In the throes of infection, with more dread of the chirurgeon than the disease. And again at the hunting lodge, whenever the chirurgeon came to tend Enzo’s wounds—but then it was fear tinged with a sort of protective rage, a bestial thing which made Fiore as fearsome as his foes and far more beautiful. It’d taken a more gentle form when they were again alone together and Enzo’s coughing fits overtook him. Then it’d shown itself in a glance Fiore quickly hid behind a smile, but said smile had never quite reached his eyes.

And now, while Fiore’s beautiful bare lips smiled up at Enzo, his domino-masked eyes were frantic.

Renewed determination seized Enzo’s heart. He would make Fiore safe again, whatever the cost. He mirrored Fiore’s casual tone and replied, “Shall we be off?”

But Fiore shook his head. The infinitesimal tremble hardly tousled a single curl, with smile still firmly fixed in place. “It wouldn’t do to leave now. People might notice—draw conclusions—talk—” He gasped in a steadying breath and forced it out in a laugh; a sound no doubt charming to the ears of a stranger but horrific to Enzo’s hearing. “We have to stay just a little while longer. One more dance at least. Then we may go.”

Enzo didn’t quite follow his logic but resolved to obey it nonetheless. Fiore’s hand had clenched tight in his, a desperate grasp that begged him without words to understand.

“Another dance with me?” Enzo suggested.

A touch of sincerity approached Fiore’s smile. “If you would be so kind.”

Enzo took in the pallor cast over Fiore’s face, his panicked gasps, the faint shiver of his arm in Enzo’s own. “Can you dance?”

Fiore hesitated.

“Perhaps,” Enzo suggested, keeping his voice low and gentle—for Fiore resembled nothing so much as a persecuted creature ready to bolt— “we might sit a spell on the balcony. You could refresh yourself in the cool night air. Catch your breath.”

Fiore stared up at him as he spoke. At first his eyes flicked between Enzo’s own. Then they settled, meeting his gaze and matching his steadiness. With every word from Enzo’s lips his breath slowed, until at last, when Enzo had finished, he seemed almost approaching ease.

“Yes,” Fiore replied. His smile had softened into something more genuine. “That would be lovely.”

Enzo withdrew his hand from Fiore’s rigid clasp and offered him his arm in its place.

Fiore entwined them together again at once in the grip of a drowning man.

They skirted the edges of the ballroom. Enzo indulged a quick dip into the banquet hall for a glass of sparkling wine which he thought might calm Fiore’s nerves a little.

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