Lucrezia lifted one gloved hand and stroked at Micheletto's scales. "Dear dragon," she said. "You mustn't worry. You could pray – can dragons pray, I wonder?"

Micheletto exhaled a puff of smoke. Lucrezia bit at her lip. Despite her brave words, she blinked away tears.

Yesterday Cesare had been found unconscious, lying by the confessional box, his red robes bright against the grey stone. No witnesses had seen what had happened. No wounds were to be found, despite the physician's probing. There was no fever. If he'd been poisoned there was no sign of any food, not a cup or glass, at the scene, nor any sign of vomiting.

Despite the lack of evidence, Juan, in a moment of familial outrage, interrogated every one who had so much as breathed in the vicinity of anything Cesare had eaten or drunk within the last day. Lucrezia thought he was looking for the wrong thing in the wrong place.

No one wanted to say it, but everyone was thinking it.

Magic.

Rodrigo had sat at Cesare's side for hours yesterday, holding Vanozza's hand as she wept for her eldest son. Only when Cesare was finally left alone had Lucrezia slipped into his room and clutched at his hand. She wiped away her tears and tried to focus.

His skin was neither warm nor cold to the touch. Not inflexible like marble as she had first thought, for her imagination was conjuring up horrors even worse than that which had actually befallen them. His heart rate was slow - Lucrezia had at first feared him dead - just one faint beat each minute. A living death, she thought with a shudder. How long might he remain this way? How long could he exist like this, without sustenance? Was he aware of her, or was he deeply unconscious? Did he dream? What if he never woke?

This close to him, she was sure this was witchcraft. She could sense it, a prickling feeling at the nape of her neck, like being aware she was being watched, for magic ran in her veins, a dark secret no-one knew. No-one but Cesare.

She did weep then. She prayed for help. She berated fate for giving her the curse of magic without the knowledge to use it to save the one she loved most in all the world.

The moon moved past the window, bathing Cesare in her pale light. He looked so peaceful, as if merely sleeping. Lucrezia could only hope he wasn't in pain. It was a small comfort.

"You must not leave me," Lucrezia said desperately. "Dearest Cesare, I cannot imagine my life without you. I cannot bear to think of it." Then, resolute, "I will find a way to save you. I promise."

She thought his thumb twitched against her palm. She held her breath and stared at him, anxious for a further sign of life, though none came. Like as not she'd imagined the movement, yet it gave her hope.

She bent over and kissed his forehead. There was nothing more for her to do here and so she went to her room and lay, fully clothed, on the bed, staring at the canopy until sleep finally came and soothed her tired body and soul.

Early this morning she'd changed her clothes and gone to talk to Micheletto. He might be a dragon but she and Cesare believed he still retained much of his human intelligence. He would want to know.

Micheletto had lowered his head and a small flame had licked at the ground when she explained. She understood, for she felt the same frustration, the same anger and pain. Micheletto probably also felt guilty, though it wasn't his fault, of course, that he couldn't be at Cesare's side to protect him as he once had.

For his sake, Lucrezia insisted there was no need to fret. "God will hear your prayers even if you are a dragon," she said, though without conviction. She wasn't sure she believed that, because she wondered if God even existed. If Cesare died, then there was no God.

She stroked Micheletto's neck. She had never been afraid of him, feeling a kinship that might be a result of her magic reaching out to the supernatural creature.

"Don't worry," she said again. "If Cesare…" No, she dare not even entertain the thought. She tried again. "While Cesare is unable to take care of you, I will. You are the Dragon of Rome, our sacred guardian, but you are also under the personal protection of the Borgia family. I am Borgia, and I will keep you safe."

Micheletto curled his head around and his inhuman eyes met hers. He exhaled a gentle cloud of steam. Lucrezia nodded. "Cesare will live. And then we, dear dragon, will punish whoever is responsible."

The dragon gave a satisfied rumble. Feeling empowered, Lucrezia strode across the pen, head held high.

She was Lucrezia Borgia and someone would pay for the crime committed against her family.

Lucrezia paused in the corridor. The nearby doors were ajar and inside Rodrigo was yelling abuse at a congregation of cardinals.

"Magic! Again! In Our most holy place!"

"Are we sure it is magic?" Cardinal Sforza had his arms folded, hands hidden amongst his sleeves. He was the picture of tranquillity, a rock in the Borgia storm.

Rodrigo turned on him and Lucrezia was impressed to see he did not flinch even when one finger was stabbed in his direction. "The physicians have no other explanation. Our son is enchanted! Cursed! This is magic of the most evil kind! Did I not order the cathedral to be warded against sorcery? Didn't I?"

Sforza blinked lazily. "It was warded. And then your son's manservant was transformed into a dragon. It was warded again, and now your son has been cursed. You can ward it once more, Holiness, but I doubt it would do any good."

Rodrigo's brow furrowed. "What are you saying?"

Sforza shrugged. "Merely that it might be time to fight fire with fire."

The other cardinals muttered like the wind over the crashing waves.

"Magic? You think magic is more powerful than the sacred rites of Our Lord?!" Rodrigo looked like he was about to have a stroke.

Sforza said, his tone mild, "I think it has proven to be so, twice. And that unless you take better precautions, the next attempt on your family may be more immediately fatal."

Sforza was right, of course. The rituals used to protect the cathedral from magic were useless. Yet Rodrigo's predecessor had outlawed witchcraft and Rodrigo himself sentenced witches to death on a monthly basis. The great dragon was barely tolerated. How could magic be used to safeguard the cathedral?

There was silence, broken only by Rodrigo's heavy breathing as he fought for control. Lucrezia held her breath. Then Rodrigo turned on his heel and leaned heavily on a nearby table. "Cardinal Sforza will oversee the cleansing and blessing of the cathedral again." And no doubt be held culpable for any further failures. "Get out! Go about your duties, all of you!"

Lucrezia stepped away as the sea of red flowed in her direction, but not before she saw Cardinal Sforza roll his eyes even as he told Rodrigo's backside, "Yes, Your Holiness."

Poor Ascanio Sforza. Still, she had more pressing things to worry about. Lucrezia opened the door to Cesare's room and was struck by the heady scent of incense, thick in the air. The aroma was wrong though. It was sweet and reminded her of summer days and honey, not prayers and communion wine.

There were bowls of herbs and strange coloured bottles on a side table. A saddle bag was upon the floor with more equipment sticking out of it. Giulia Farnase was crouched at the side of the bed, her usually carefully styled hair loose about her shoulders, her blue silk skirts in disarray. She held a knife in one hand, the undulating blade pointing upwards. Her eyes were closed and her lips moved as she muttered words Lucrezia could not hear.

The air was full of static and Lucrezia took a step backwards, horrified. "Witchcraft!"
Giulia's eyes flew open.

"Wait," Giulia begged. She followed Lucrezia's gaze to the dagger and tossed it onto the bed. She held up both hands, showing they were empty. One was bleeding from a shallow cut just below her thumb. "I'm trying to save him."

Giulia seemed in earnest and Lucrezia hesitated, one hand on the door handle. Giulia pointed to the bowl of incense. "It is magic. But so is this." She gestured with a nod of her head at Cesare and bit her lip. Lucrezia moved closer and Giulia swallowed. "I don't know who did this, but I do know witchcraft when I am in its presence. I'm not a skilled witch by birth, but I have studied. A lot."

Lucrezia nodded, silently urging Giulia to continue. Fire with fire, Sforza had said. More witchery might be Cesare's only hope.

Giulia sighed. "This is a powerful enchantment, most likely cast by a lovelorn woman, one whose affection has turned to hate. You might know better than I who are the most probable suspects."

Lucrezia shrugged and Giulia went on, "It doesn't matter who. Killing a witch does not always end their spells, as you well know."

Lucrezia nodded. Micheletto was still a dragon. She found her voice. "But there is a way?"

"There is always a way. It is the nature of magic. There must always be an escape." Giulia shook her head. "There is only one sure way to break this particular spell. I've tried every other means I know of…"

They both looked at the potions, the abandoned mortar and pestle, the ebony handled dagger which lay on the bed.

"A wrathful witch cast this spell and a loving witch must end it." Giulia bowed her head in sorrow. "I have tried, Lucrezia. I love your father and I love you and Cesare, for you are his children. I care about you both deeply. And yet I think…" She trailed off and bowed her head. "I do not love him enough."

Lucrezia slipped one arm around Giulia's shoulders. She loved Giulia and hated to see her distraught. "It isn't your fault."

"He may never wake up," Giulia said, tears welling up in her beautiful eyes. "I should be able to save him and I cannot."

The task should not fall to this woman, her father's mistress, even though she was Lucrezia's dear friend. This was family business. Lucrezia picked up the dagger.

"A witch must end this spell."

"Yes."

"A witch who loves him?"

Giulia nodded.

Lucrezia took a deep breath, tracing the tip of the blade around her palm. "I am a witch." She glanced up from beneath lowered lashes to see Giulia's reaction. She saw no surprise, just a slow nod as Giulia accepted this new information.

"Tell me what to do," Lucrezia urged.

"First, the witch must shed her own blood," Giulia as if reciting from a book, "and paint her lips with it."

Lucrezia's gaze fell upon the cut Giulia had made. "Must it be the hand?" She'd seen similar marks often at witch trials, though if she had to risk bringing suspicion on herself, she would.

Giulia shrugged. "No. It is merely an easy and rather safe place to draw blood from." She rummaged in the saddlebag and pulled out a small vial, dabbing a few drops of the amber oil it contained onto her cut. She winced but forced a smile. "It will help with the healing."

Lucrezia sat on the edge of the bed and lifted up her skirts, sliding her petticoats past her knees. She used one finger and thumb to draw taut the creamy skin above one stocking, and used the dagger in her other hand to slice open her inner thigh.

Giulia watched with what looked like awe or fascination. She blinked and said, "Then she must kiss her sleeping prince and wake him from his slumber." She put one hand to the cross at her neck, brushing at it subconsciously.

Lucrezia put the dagger aside and dipped her index finger into the fresh red blood. She dabbed it onto her bottom lip as if applying vermillion powder. She bloodied her finger again and marked her top lip. For good measure, she once more dabbed at her blood and then over both lips. She rather wished for a mirror to see what she looked like. Powerful, or monstrous, or both.

Giulia dabbed a handkerchief over the vial and gestured. Lucrezia nodded and Giulia quickly pressed the cloth to the cut. Lucrezia took a sharp breath as the oil stung the wound. When the cloth was removed, she was no longer bleeding, though the cut remained. Quickly, she shook her skirts back down.

"Now I kiss him?"

"First think of how much you love him," Giulia said. "Feel it, in your heart. In your blood. In every nerve and sinew. Love is a powerful magic. Summon it and then claim your beloved's lips."

Lucrezia ran trembling fingers against Cesare's cheek. She did love him. She could not bear to lose him. She could not live without him. She loved him with all her heart.

She felt warmth spread through her, filling her up with love and magic, her fingertips tingling, her toes curling inwards, her core pulsing. She took one lifeless hand in hers. She used one thumb to part Cesare's lips slightly and then bent over. She kissed him and his flesh was cool against her heated skin. She tasted her own blood as she pressed her lips to his. She pressed harder, she sought his tongue. She adored him and he would not die!

She sat back, breathing hard. She'd done nothing psychically exhausting but she felt as if she had run for miles and her heart was pounding against her ribcage. She touched Cesare's cheek again and glanced over at her shoulder. Giulia had her hands clasped as if in prayer. Her face crumpled. "Lucrezia."

"I do love him enough," Lucrezia said, in a voice that no mortal should dare defy.

Cesare exhaled, as if he'd been holding his breath for a long time. Both women stared at him. Giulia crossed herself. "Praise God."

God? Where was God when Cesare had been cursed? Where was God when Giulia had tried to work her healing magic? God had not bled for Cesare. God should take no credit.

She had never entertained such thoughts before. Lucrezia felt a thrill at such blasphemy. Cesare stirred and she stroked at his hair.

Giulia was throwing items into the saddlebag in a panic, even the still smoking bowl of incense. "I have to go. He must not see me." She threw the bag over her shoulder and paused at the door, wild-eyed. "Do not tell anyone of my craft. Promise me!"

"I promise."

Giulia fled, closing the door behind her.

Lucrezia dipped her head and nudged Cesare's nose with her own. "Time to wake up," she told him.

He swallowed and opened bleary eyes. "Lucrezia."

She kissed him and his lips parted, returning her passion before he realised what he was doing and sought to push her away.

"What are you doing? What's happened? I was at Confession…"

Lucrezia sat back, considering. She would not mention Giulia, for she intended to keep her promise. Yet she would tell him the truth. That she had woken him with a kiss, that it was her love, her magic, that had saved him. She wanted him to know those things. She needed him to understand the depth of her feelings.

He was hers, now. And woe betide whoever had tried to take him from her.