AllFreeNovel
Share Us
‘The only thing he was keen to do was plunder the country’s riches for himself. People suffered...the treasury was emptied. I feared nothing would be safe.’ Alessio’s jaw clenched. ‘Had he not abdicated the role I would have taken it from him.’
Even though the temperature was warm, the breeze cool, it was as if she’d been plunged into midwinter. She didn’t know what to say. Alessio talked about making war with his own father, and that added another layer to the complex picture he painted for her. This man was the one you’d commit to canvas wielding a sword on horseback, like the imposing portraits of his ancestors.
They rode in silence for a little longer. It was as if he’d said too much and she guessed he had, being normally so self-possessed.
‘Are we going to the pavilion?’
He turned to her, his eyes bleak and cold. ‘You still wish to see it?’
She nodded. Anything to break the terrible chill that had fallen over them. His shoulders slumped a fraction, and it seemed almost like a defeat. Then he straightened again as if steeling himself.
‘Come this way.’
Alessio wheeled his horse around and encouraged him into a canter, as if he’d forgotten she hadn’t ridden for years. And all she could do was try to follow in his wake.
Alessio didn’t know what it was about Hannah, how when she asked a question it was as if he’d been injected with a truth serum. He said what he wanted, what he’d bottled up, like purging his soul. In that way she was dangerous, non-disclosure agreement aside. People might have tried guessing things about his father, the reasons why he had stepped down, but the truth had been well hidden. Alessio had ensured it. Lasserno’s former prince had been all about laziness and destruction. However,no oneshould ever know the extent to which Alessio had investigated removing him. Perhaps his father had had an inkling before his abdication. The palace had been full of spies and sycophants before Alessio had rid the place of them. That could be why his father had jumped before being given an unceremonious push, because Alessio had been ready to give him a final shove if it meant saving the country.
But this was a secret the world could never know, because it signalled instability. Let everyone believe the lie his father had done it for the good of the country. Yet today Alessio had put everything at risk, all because of the gentle questions of the woman riding with him.
Hannah followed close behind him as they approached the pavilion. He wasn’t surprised she’d asked to see it, such a quaint building peeking out of the olive grove. A folly to something that would never last. He wondered what Hannah would see here. Whether she’d sense the tragedy or only see the fantasy of the place. Alessio wasn’t sure why her opinion on these things mattered.
He pulled up Apollo and dismounted, the curdle of dread filling his stomach. Here sat a tribute by his mother to a love that had burned brightly and exploded in a supernova-like cataclysm, before imploding into darkness, cold and endless. So many hopes and dreams had been built into this little structure. A testament to the dismal failure of relationships. His father, unwilling to be faithful. His mother, unable to forgive. Their country the ultimate loser. Alessio curled his loose reins around an ancient olive tree. Hannah dismounted with a practised ease that belied her supposed inexperience and did the same, her boots crunching in the fallen leaves on the ground as she approached him.
‘This is such a beautiful spot.’ Her voice was a little breathy as she looked around, her cheeks with a healthy pink glow.
Yes, it was a pretty spot in the dappled sunshine. The whitewashed pavilion with a domed terracotta roof tucked away in the shade. But it had nothing on her. In her worn jeans and buttoned shirt which clung to her elegant curves she glowed as if from the inside out, with something that looked a lot like joy.
‘Can we go inside?’
He nodded. ‘It’s never locked.’
He walked up some small stairs, turned a latch and entered the place he hadn’t visited in years. Not since the death of his mother when he had come here and raged at the universe for stealing the wrong parent. But demons needed to be conquered, especially for him now the country was his to rule. There was no place he could fear to tread, not now.
The pavilion had been kept pristine. No leaf or dust dared grace any surface. The floor was an exquisite mosaic of the goddess Venus rising from the waves. Fluted columns against the walls supported the roof, decorated in between with leadlight windows and pantheons of gods staring down at them. A few wooden benches sat inside. Once they’d been covered with plush cushions, this structure designed as an opulent meeting place, away from the strictures and rules of the palace.
Hannah followed him inside, stood in the middle of the room looking up at the ceiling with the painted plaster like a summer’s sky. She turned on the spot, her lips parted, face alive as if in wonder.
‘What is this place used for? The light’s gorgeous. It would be a beautiful space to paint in.’
Alessio shrugged. ‘Nothing now. Once it was a retreat. A place to be alone. To contemplate.’
The lies...all the lies. They threatened to choke him even though they needed to be told. He wouldn’t betray his mother’s memory at the way his parents had debased themselves in their horror of a marriage towards the end.
‘It seems almost like it was built for... I don’t know. Lovers.’
So close to the truth, this woman. Always probing and finding the right answers. She could be a danger to his equilibrium if he didn’t proceed with care.
‘It was built by my mother on the second anniversary of her marriage, as a gift to my father.’
‘That’s so romantic.’ Her voice was the merest whisper, the brush of a cool breeze through the olive trees surrounding them.
‘Yes, isn’t it? Romance is all around us.’ His voice in response sounded hard, cynical. Even to his own ears. Echoing in this little space with nothing soft to absorb it.
In truth, this building was a testament to a failed marriage. His parents’ relationship had been reported as one of great passion, until his father became bored after Alessio was born. This building hinted at something grand and consuming. Love perhaps. Obsession more likely. Or a desperate, clinging hope of keeping something that was already slipping away. He had no memory of his parents’ love, only what cold, black coals were left when the flame had burned out.
‘You say that like romance isn’t a good thing.’
A slight frown marred her brow, those eyes of hers watching him. Assessing all the time. The sense of it prickled down his spine. A warning that he was transparent as glass and she could see all his cracks and flaws underneath. She was an artist after all. She was programmed to look for those things. He didn’t want her to see them. They were secrets he kept from the world. The face he projected was the one he wanted her to paint, not the man he hid.
