The First Installment

This is my first time posting on this site -- please enjoy.

Overcome by his elation, Luciano swept the Duchessa off her feet and twirled her around. When he set her down again, her face was as radiant as the sun dancing on the silver waves encompassing the island of Torrone. He would have told her so, but it seemed too long-winded for such a breathless moment.

"Luciano," she whispered.

"What is it, your Grace?" he responded playfully. Her head was rested on his shoulder, and she smelled sweetly of Giglian perfume.

Arianna simply pointed down, to where her beautiful mask was strewn, absorbing what at best would be brown water.

It had seemed so romantic at the time, but now, as her head cleared , she realized the mistake of her fearless toss. She hadn't even noticed the gurgling sounds of water, so intent had she been on Luciano's smile.

"Arianna, of all places in Talia, why did you have to throw your mask into this filthy creek? We're right behind an inn! Goddess knows what slops are heaved in there every sundown!"

She looked up in surprise. As she hoped, Luciano's alarmed tone was matched by laughing eyes.

"Oh, well," she pouted. "I'll go back without it."

"I don't think so," he retorted. "Look at us. What will they think we've been doing?"

It was true. Luciano was covered in straw, some of which had passed to her lavender, cotton traveling dress. Her hair was tousled out of place, there was a mischievous, dreamy (or maybe relieved?) grin Luciano just couldn't seem to wipe off his face, and now – the Duchessa returning, unguarded, without a mask? Actually, any of that could have been possible if only her entourage occupied the inn – unfortunately, the locals had chosen this of all nights to have an drinking festival. She could see Luciano's point.

"You're right. You're not Duke of Bellezza yet." Sadly, her crestfallen tone implied.

Her mind was already hard at work; her arched brows knitted in concentration. She was, after all, the most powerful girl in her city-state, but that wouldn't excuse her from the inevitably harassing lecture on honor, duty, decency, respect, power, and diplomacy when her family saw the tattered hem of her dress. Sadly, she didn't see any other options. Luciano was watching her think, amused and content just to revel in her beauty.

"Alright, then. Luciano, close your eyes."

"Carrissima, that could put you in danger."

Arianna rolled her eyes and pushed him away before she pulled out her merlino dagger and cut out a strip of her petticoat. She grimaced at the awkwardness of having her skirt around her knees; it was the first time in her life as Duchessa she had ever wished for more layers of clothing.

Obviously, Luciano watched.

"Need some help?" Arianna was struggling to cut eye-holes in her makeshift mask.

"No! And–" she gasped. "You- you!" and swatted in his direction. She sighed. "Fine, then. Help me."

Luciano snorted. "The Duchessa? A damsel in distress? I would never have imagined."

"I'm not in any sort of distress. I'm just accepting aid in a menial task worthy of a laundry girl. Or, more fittingly perhaps, a Cavaliere of Bellezza."

By then, he had deftly slit the silky fabric and was tying it gently under what was left of her glossy, raven-colored up-do.

When he was done, he lightly brushed the loose curls to one side, away from her neck.

Impulsively, she whirled around and threw her arms around his neck. It took Luciano a few seconds before he realized she was crying; she was sobbing gently, quivering in his embrace.

"Duchessa, Duchessa," he murmured, comforting her. "There's no need to cry. I'm here, you're here, we're in love, and we're going to get married."

"But, Luciano, that's just it!" Arianna's voice was hoarse with sobs. "I know you love the Duchessa of Bellezza, but what about me?"

"Arianna, they are the same. Always you, all of you. Always my Arianna forever."

The two were silent; then Luciano led the Duchessa inside.