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Fiore stared at him. “Why not?”
“Because it’s her fault that you’re ill.”
Fiore’s eyes flew wide. “She gave Nascimbene the poison?”
Enzo cursed himself for his amateur speaking error. “No, no—I mean, she prevented me from going to the duel. If it weren’t for her you’d have never gone in my place, and…”
Fiore looked thoughtful as Enzo trailed off.
Enzo considered Fiore in turn. He seemed stronger now after his all-too-brief rest. Obviously still in distress, but holding himself upright regardless. Breathing with ease. Clear-headed in the wake of his fever.
None of which prepared him to hear Fiore ask, “May I speak with her?”
Enzo balked. But he could refuse Fiore nothing now. Whatever he wished for he deserved as just reward for sheer survival. And even in the midst of his shock, Enzo had a grim notion of forcing Lucrezia to confront the consequences of her actions. Let her see what her choices had wrought on Fiore’s body.
“If you’re feeling up to it,” Enzo relented. “Just for a few moments.”
A queer smile curled up Fiore’s scarred cheek. “That will suffice.”
Enzo returned to the door. He unlocked and opened it to find Lucrezia still in the antechamber, adjusting her gloves and gazing on him with marked incredulity.
“Fiore wishes to speak with you,” said Enzo.
Somehow this lessened her incredulity. “Very well.”
She made as if to step into the sickroom. Enzo halted her with an upraised hand.
“He cannot stand,” Enzo warned her. “Not on ceremony or anything else.”
“I would hardly expect him to,” Lucrezia replied coolly.
And so, against all his better instincts, Enzo allowed Lucrezia in.
Lucrezia’s gaze swept over the bedchamber like a hawk. Her efficient stride brought her to Fiore’s bedside. She made no move to occupy the chair there. Enzo took it for himself, putting his own body between Fiore and his sister.
For his part, Fiore held himself upright and cast an equally-appraising look up at Lucrezia in turn.
Lucrezia broke the silence. “Signor Fiore, I presume?”
Fiore nodded.
“Prince Lucrezia Scaevola, Serenissima of Halcyon, at your service.”
“Fiore of no consequence at yours,” Fiore replied.
At another time, Enzo might have laughed.
Lucrezia took it in stride. “My brother tells me you desired an audience.”
Fiore nodded again. “Enzo said you’re the reason he arrived late to the duel.”
Lucrezia cocked her brow at that. Enzo supposed not many folk dared speak to her so boldly. Nonetheless she maintained her arch serenity—which only serve to enrage Enzo further—as she replied, “I am.”
“And had you known he stood my second,” Enzo demanded before Fiore could continue, “would you still have kept me from the duel?”
Lucrezia stared straight into his eyes, unblinking. “Yes.”
Enzo could have killed her.
