‘Since I’ve been back taking care of the castle’s repairs it’s the first time in years we haven’t worked together in some way. That’s been...challenging. It has always been my role to assist him in whichever way was best.’
It wasn’t exactly the truth, but it gave voice to a small part of his reality.
Lucy frowned. ‘I can’t imagine that kind of expectation.’
‘What about you?’ he asked. ‘Did you always know you wanted to play the violin, or was it something imposed upon you by your parents because of your mother’s talent?’
‘How did you—?’
‘Internet.’
He smiled, trying to recover from the error of that admission. He knew far more about Lucy than she’d disclosed to him. He should probe her about the coronation ring now. In his not doing so there was a lack of truth between them which needled his conscience. But now was not the moment. He intended to put another of those blazing smiles on her face. And whilst they were snowed in, there was still time...
‘You have a history. Some might say you’re living up to it.’
‘My mother encouraged me, and from the moment I saw her playing it was what I wanted to do. I never questioned it until recently, but now I’m wondering who I am if I can’t play.’
It seemed they were both questioning their place in the world.
Celine’s words inched into his consciousness again.‘Who are you...?’He shut them down.
They’d moved into some of the lesser-used service corridors. Places he’d played in as a child, creating fantasies of knights and of dragons he and his siblings were required to slay. As children, they’d always been victorious. It was only as an adult that he’d come to realise that life didn’t always work out the way you thought it would.
He glanced over at Lucy again. He’d like to slayherdragons. She didn’t deserve the treatment that had been meted out to her, causing her to question her playing, her talents.
‘Where on earth are you taking me?’ she asked.
‘You’ll have to wait and see. Ah, here we are.’
They’d arrived at a wooden door made of rough-hewn slabs of wood and hand-forged cast iron hinges. He’d unlocked it earlier, when he’d come to make the space ready for her.
Stefano tugged at the handle and the door creaked open to reveal a dimly lit stone staircase.
‘How many steps are there?’ she asked.
‘I’ve never counted them—but, trust me, the effort is worth it.’
He’d set up his own space here as a teenager, for those times when his siblings had become too much and he’d wanted a place to be alone. It had given him perspective. A reminder that there were things bigger than himself, and that his problems were small compared to the vastness of the universe before him. He’d studied here, dreamed here of a life and a future that he’d thought would be grand and important. Of how he might be better than all the Counts before him, stamping his indelible mark on the role.
How naïve he’d been. Those dreams all seemed so futile now. He’d marked the role with a blot of ink so black and dark it might never wash clean.
They’d reached the top of the stairs and Lucy waited whilst he opened another ancient door into the room he’d readied for her. He’d never brought anyone here before. It was the one place in the castle he’d kept all to himself. Not even Celine had seen this place...his teenage sanctuary. She wouldn’t have been impressed, given it lacked the grandeur of the rest of the castle.
What would Lucy think of it?
He wasn’t sure why the answer to that question was so important.
He turned on the torch, then took Lucy’s hand and led her through, closing the door on the dimly lit stairwell behind them. At least the room was a bit warmer than freezing, with the space heater he’d placed in the corner working hard to heat the area. It was a difficult task since there was so much glass around them.
He moved to the edge of the room, out of the way of the furniture, and turned off the torch again.
Lucy’s fingers squeezed his. ‘Where are we and why are the lights out?’ she whispered.
‘We’re in the eastern turret. Let your eyes adjust.’
In days long past the room had been encased by windows, rather than leaving it open, and it was the perfect place to view the province his family had supported over centuries. Tonight there was little light outside, the moon a bare sliver, which was perfect for what he had in mind. The only sounds were their breathing and the gentle brush of a cold breeze.
He tugged on her hand. ‘This leads to the ramparts. I hope you’re not afraid of heights.’