The Shades of Time (28 page)

If they were
indeed in hiding at the coast, then the question was: who would
they contact first? Him … or Cosimo? Everyone knew he attended to
matters in Carlos' court, brokering deals and seeing to his
family's interests. He would be the logical choice. However, given
the fact that the deed was spur-of-the-moment, his ability to
predict their next steps was severely hampered.

The other
concern was that without a solid plan in place, the perpetrators of
the kidnapping might not be disposed to treat his brother with
kindness and consideration. And given Antonio's demeanor and
reputation, it was likely he'd be subjected to the worst kind of
torture.

They would not
care if their captive was just mostly alive so long as they got
their payment in full.

Shit shit
shit.

"
Signore
?"

Nico spun to
face Veluria. She gazed at him, her dark eyes pleading. With a wash
of guilt he realized he was being an ass, treating the woman
without consideration for the trials she'd been through. The trip,
and her despair over Antonio, had drained her reserves so that she
could barely function.

He said,
kindly, "Forgive me, madam. I will take you to a guestroom. You may
take your rest and freshen up." He took her arm to guide her to the
rear of the hacienda.

"No,
please."

"Madam, you
must rest. Let me see to this…"

"Nico … may I call you Nico?" He nodded
yes
so she continued, "You don't
understand. I can help you find him."

"I appreciate
your offer, but leave this to me." He was not about to explain his
and Tonio's link. He would feel his brother's essence, even from a
distance. He just needed to get close enough.

The woman said quietly, "It won't be enough. He is hurt, Nico.
He does not know himself. He won't know
you
."

Angrily he
growled, "And you know this how?"

Weakly she
replied, "Because I am like you … but more." She stared at him,
willing him to believe.

"All right. I
will accept what you say, for now. But you will rest. We have a
hard journey ahead of us and I will not be slowed down by a…" He
was about to say 'a weak woman' but thought better of it when she
glared at him with a thunderous expression.

"Can you ride,
madam?"

"Well
enough."

"Then I shall
procure suitable attire. Your skirts will not suit for this
travel."

He pointed down
the hall and said, "First door on your right. I shall send Marie to
tend to your needs." He turned away but she grabbed his arm and
turned him toward her.

"We
will
find
him, Nico."

He gave her a
dark look, his face set in rigid determination. "We will indeed.
Veluria."

He left her
weaving uncertainly down the hall and strode quickly to meet with
his captain. They would need to travel fast and light, keeping
provisioning to a minimum.

He had a bad
feeling they were quickly running out of time.

Don't you
fucking die on me, Tonio. Don't give up. I'm coming for you.

Chapter
Twenty

Friedrich
examined his prospective son-in-law with interest. The reports had
not done the young man justice. He carried a prettiness about him—a
fey quality—yet there was something rough-edged too, as if the
boy-to-man transition had taken an unexpected turn. He sensed that
there might be interesting depths to plumb beyond the surface
naiveté.

"Does he meet
with your satisfaction?" The leer in the man's voice was
unmistakable. He was used to it.

Ignoring his
secretary, Friedrich moved to the other side of the narrow viewing
slit, tiptoeing on the ledge to get a better perspective on the
room below. His quarry passed in and out of his view as he paced
about the antechamber, not so much nervous as bored.

Boredom was
good. He had entertainments enough to satisfying the most
discriminating tastes. With a grimace he backed down the ladder,
taking care with foot placement lest he appear clumsy. His
secretary had been with him for years but still … it did nothing
for his image to land in a heap on the stone floor.

The man
continued, "Have you decided which of your daughters to present for
his pleasure?" He dipped a quill in an inkwell, pausing to look up,
the droplets settling about the edge of the pot. "I will need a
name for the contract, sire."

"Name? Oh yes.
Um, I had thought of bringing each one forward for the Medici's
inspection."

He suspected
that was not a particularly good move, given his daughters' wildly
differing sensibilities. His secretary confirmed his doubts with a
vigorous shake of his head.

"Well, Gustav,
you seem to have some strong opinions on this matter. Perhaps you
would care to enlighten me with your … erudition?" Friedrich's
voice oozed with menace as he moved to tower over the seated
figure. The quill quivered in the man's fingers, leaving splotches
of ink to fall on the stone floor. Most times he indulged his man's
sometimes bold nature. Today he wasn't disposed to be as
accommodating.

Not when so
much rested on making the right choice.

Gustav
stuttered, "S-s-sire, f-forgive me, but I think, perchance, Wiltrud
would be the proper bride for your purposes."

Interesting,
she hadn't been his first choice but he was curious to hear the
man's assessment. Withdrawing far enough to allow the quaking man
some breathing room, he said, "Go on."

"Rumor has it, your eldest, Marie,
may
have the special attention of Duke
Willem." At Friedrich's raised eyebrow the man hastened to
continue, "A most unsuitable match, to be sure, given the man's age
and circumstances." Before Friedrich could comment, he held up a
finger and said, "The Duke's territories would be a useful buffer
against Vladislav's ambitions."

Friedrich
mumbled, "Fair enough," pausing to think on that option. Marie was
the least clever and least attractive of his three daughters.
Placing her with a man in his dotage would preclude her producing
grandchildren for his benefit, but there were worst fates to be
sure. And covering his ass with an ally on his eastern boundary had
become an imperative given the posturing and bald-faced aggression
from some of the neighboring duchies.

Curious now, he
asked, "And why is this just coming to my attention?" He didn't
care for surprises, not when it came to matters of state.

Gustav
swallowed and gripped the edge of the writing desk, staring hard at
the tapestries lining the walls as if to draw inspiration for the
expected explanation. Sweat beaded his brow but he decided to skirt
around his failure to alert his sire to the rumors floating about
the court, trivial as they seemed.

Visibly
garnering his resolve, Gustav said, "Margaret is still young and
unformed. She would be unsuitable for Stefano de' Medici given his
reputation and experience…" he lowered his eyes and murmured, "…and
proven potency."

Rigid with irritation he glared at his secretary but the man's
eyes remained pinned to his inkwell. What vaguely amused him was
his secretary taking
him
to task about any potential impropriety rather
than concerning himself with why his master had made that
particular selection in the first place.

However, Gustav
had a point about the girl being not much more than a child,
despite the fact he had based his decision on other considerations.
He snarled, "She is fourteen, soon to be fifteen. That's old
enough."

Margaret was
his favorite, flighty but full of fun. She tasked him daily with
her antics. By bringing the Medici lad to his court he'd hoped to
keep his youngest close and under his direct supervision. He didn't
like when someone cast doubt on his decisions, yet the man did, on
occasion, keep him from making a fool of himself.

Staring at
Gustav, he said, "Wiltrud," with distaste. She'd been an unlikeable
child, dull and obstinate to a fault and she'd grown into a
cantankerous young woman with an unappealing demeanor. She was not
unpleasing to the eye, but her strident tones and incessant whining
taxed all who served her.

His secretary
was all too aware of Wiltrud's shortcomings. Why would he think
she'd be the more suitable candidate?

"Sire, the Medici boy will most certainly fulfill his duties
admirably and produce an heir in short order." As if sensing he
walked on uncertain ground, the man hastily qualified his
statement. "With any daughter
you
so choose."

"But…?"
Friedrich could guess what was coming. His secretary had been the
unfortunate recipient of Wiltrud's particular deprecations more
times than he could count, her hatred for the man almost palpable.
Gustav had no reason to defend his daughter, and every reason to
see that she be placed in an uncompromising situation.

Yes, indeed. If
Gustav's hint that the willful brat could hold up to certain …
punishments, then perhaps the idea did have merit.

Clearly
uncomfortable, his secretary spoke hesitantly. "The, um, guard who
returned Stefano de' Medici to our safekeeping relayed certain, uh,
observations about the boy's proclivities."

Friedrich kept
his face impassive. He had also been privy to the rumor and
innuendo. That much explained Gustav's recommendation. Although he
disliked the roundabout way his secretary arrived at his
suggestion, the logic behind it had a certain appeal.

Friedrich said,
"I see your point about Margaret being too young," and too
innocent, though he avoided voicing that concern.

He'd have
preferred delaying the final decision, perhaps manipulating the
courtship period, but in truth time was his enemy with events
across the continent proceeding apace. He'd demanded the immediate
presence of the suitor and Cosimo had been more than accommodating
in allowing him to dispatch his own men to see that his wishes were
met.

Friedrich
understood and appreciated Cosimo's motives in agreeing to the
union of their houses. Whether or not the young man was on board
with their plans was another matter entirely. It would be best to
proceed with alacrity.

He approached
the lectern and tapped on the parchment. "Wiltrud it is. Well done,
Gustav, well done indeed."

Before the man
could puff up with pride, Friedrich gave him a feral grin and
purred, "We'll see to your reward … later."

The man's face
drained of all color but he bent his head to the task. Friedrich
rather liked stoics when he was in the mood for a bit of relaxed
sport.

With a quick
brush of his tunic, he advanced to the door and said mostly to
himself, "Well, let's take the measure of Cosimo's pup, shall
we?"

With a flourish
he stalked into the antechamber to greet his guest.

****

Stefano
fidgeted under the intense scrutiny of the Duke and his court
toadies. The trip had been a nightmare of sleepless nights and
long, hot canters over rough terrain through the Swiss territories.
Friedrich's Guards had been willing enough companions; but tasked
as they were to bring him to the castle in the shortest time
possible, that left him little opportunity for the pleasantries he
so enjoyed. Upon his arrival he'd been primped and polished and
dandied up to suit the Duke's peculiar fashion tastes. Now he stood
on display, fully aware of his responsibilities and the
expectations of his family.

As Friedrich
introduced his intended, he noted without interest her plain
features—horse-faced he and his drinking companions would have
dubbed her—but her build was satisfying, plump in all the right
places. Unfortunately she displayed a haughty demeanor, brow set in
what looked to be a perpetual frown, and the glint in her eye gave
her a less-than-welcoming presence.

Stefano had
hoped for an undemanding consort, one content to manage her clutch
of children, tending to her needlework and whatever other duties
the Habsburg spawn used to fill their days, leaving him free to
find his pleasures elsewhere.

He had a
feeling that even Antonio would have turned tail and run from the
arrogant martinet paraded for his approval.

As if I have a
fucking choice.

As he engaged in the polite salutations and feigned a vague
display of interest in the young woman whose name grated on his
nerves, Stefano let his mind wander, thinking back to the last time
he'd seen
her
.

He still felt the sting of Veluria's rejection, her harsh
words even now ringing in his ears, shutting out the incessant
background droning about plans presented as if he had a say in the
matters of state. He knew
that
to be a falsehood. He was here as his father's
puppet. Nico had made that clear during their brief encounter in
Spagna—before Friedrich's Guards had whisked him away to an
uncertain destiny.

Why am I not
surprised to see you here, Nico? Still Father's errand boy? Are you
going to make sure I don't embarrass the family again?

Nico ignored
the insult as he always did. There seemed nothing he could do or
say to rattle the man, something he ached to do for he hated the
closeness—the bond—that Nico and Tonio had had since they were
children. He was ever the odd one out, though both doted on him,
spoiling him at every opportunity. Somehow it was never enough.

He'd listened
with half an ear as his brother explained what he called 'the facts
of life' and assured him of the rightness of decisions made on his
behalf, for the good of the family and ultimately for his own good.
And without a backward glance he'd strode off, leaving him with the
Guards and his damned destiny.