Stefano looked at the mobile as if he’d just remembered he was holding it, frowned, and slid it into the pocket of his trousers. ‘Sometimes people need...encouragement to do the right thing.’
They entered a long corridor. The temperature dropped here, and she assumed it was due to the bank of windows running along the right-hand side, giving an uninterrupted view of the bright snowbound landscape. It reminded her once again that whilst Stefano was treating her like an honoured guest right now, she was trapped here.
‘It sounded more like evisceration than encouragement. I thought your family were supposed to be Shields of the Crown, not swords.’
‘Sometimes a sword is all anyone understands. Most of my life has been spent being diplomatic. This is a new development.’
‘Do you enjoy it? Being an aggressor rather than a protector?’
He looked down at her, his eyes dark and serious. ‘I do what’s needed.’
They stopped outside a room and, like Stefano’s, she saw this door was heavily carved with a coat of arms, although different from the one on his bedroom.
‘This crest isn’t yours?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘It’s the royal family’s.’
‘It hasn’t got a unicorn rampant either. I call it inferior.’
The corner of his mouth twitched. ‘I invite you to tell His Highness. I suspect he’ll disagree.’
Before she left the castle she’d get him to smile. But when she did, it would have to be immediately before she walked out through the door, because she was sure his smile would have the capacity to devastate her.
‘Why do they get a coat of arms here?’
‘This suite’s reserved exclusively for Lasserno’s royal family.’
‘Lucky them. Does the Moretti family get a suite in the palace in return?’
Stefano shrugged. ‘I don’t stay in the palace. I have a home in the capital.’
That wasn’t what she’d asked, but she let it slide. He opened the door and flicked on the lights as they went inside.
‘Wow.’
Glittering chandeliers hung from a ceiling which seemed to writhe with frescoes. A heavenly sky...angels blowing trumpets. Thankfully no more gruesome scenes like those she’d come across in other areas of the castle. She didn’t need any more reminding of her own mortality. In this room, everywhere she looked something gleamed with the rich burnish of gold.
‘Indeed. It’s the grandest room in the castle.’
It was all a bit...much. ‘Do you actually like it?’
Stefano stood in the centre of the room, looking up. ‘It’s of its time. The whole castle is—though this was a more recent renovation, from the eighteenth century. I find it somewhat extravagant.’
‘I was raised in a house in the suburbs.’ She tried to stifle a giggle, unsuccessfully. This was so far from where she’d come from. ‘You live in acastle, Stefano. I think you’ve cornered the market on extravagance.’
He sighed. ‘My apologies. This is my life; it’s normal to me. But some days I feel more a custodian of history rather than a true resident.’
‘I’m not sure I could sleep in here, with all those angels heralding my divine right to rule and my hereditary magnificence.’
‘Most royalty enjoy their own magnificence a little too much.’
‘What about Lasserno’s current Prince?’
Stefano’s mouth tightened and a muscle in his jaw ticked. ‘He’s a good man.’
There was a world of pain in his expression. She knew about wounds that were kept well-hidden, considering she had a few of her own.
‘You should explore,’ Stefano said. ‘Treat the room like you own it.’