CHAPTER CONTENT WARNINGS
- sexual references [implied behavior]
- violence
- blood
- death
It was never good when his father wanted to speak with him, even more so when it was in the king's office. Normally he'd avoid such a meeting, but the guards escorting him meant his father had finally had enough of him skipping summons.
Leone began whistling a folk tune, much to his chaperons' chagrin. The prince's exuberant personality had earned him many friends — including a sizable percentage of the royal guard — but these two were not among them. He didn't care, and whistled louder. They couldn't stop him; no one could. Only his parents held more authority than him, and their punishments were hardly frightening.
Two sentries stood by the double doors, one on each side. The left-hand guard opened his door, then closed it once the prince entered.
King Vincenzo sat at his desk, which was barely visible beneath the papers and open books spread over the surface. He motioned to one of the chairs opposite his own. "Sit."
Leone unceremoniously flopped down, an elbow on one arm of the furnishing and a leg draped over the other.
His father narrowed his eyes. "Sit like a prince, Leone."
Leone gave a dramatic sigh and corrected his posture.
Vincenzo touched the gold cross around his neck before folding his hands, seemingly bracing himself for the unpleasantness of the conversation ahead. "I've been informed of some unsettling gossip regarding your exploits with women."
Leone gasped as though insulted. His father surely hadn't heard the half of it, but he wasn't about to admit to anything. "Merely unsubstantiated rumors, Father."
The king shook his head. "I'm inclined to believe them. Your behavior these past few years has diminished my trust in you. Pranking the servants, harassing the maids, driving your tutors mad, tormenting your sister, arguing with your mother, disobeying my orders, partaking in endless parties, gambling, drunkenness, petty larceny, underground fighting — it's hardly a stretch to add fornication to the list."
"I wasn't aware you were so knowledgeable about my various activities," Leone commented drolly, "given how little we see of each other."
His father glowered. "If you would stop eschewing your responsibilities, we'd interact much more than the occasional dinner or mass."
Leone rolled his eyes. He excelled at avoiding unenjoyable tasks, yet his father failed to recognize that talent. "You'd have me squander my youth on meetings and paperwork?"
"You are seventeen, Leone!" the king fumed. "I was only a year older when I had to receive my father's crown! Even with all my training, I was woefully under-prepared to lead this nation."
"By that logic, I should shirk my duties all the more. That way, God will prolong your life, since I'd be such a poor replacement."
"That's not how it works, Leone," Vincenzo sighed. "No one is guaranteed another breath."
"Then I suppose you ought to hurry and find Natalia a worthy suitor. I'm sure you can find a competent prince eager to be your son-in-law."
"I have no intention of letting you rescind your birthright to your sister or her future husband." His father stood. "I'm doubling your guard. You are to attend all your lectures and any sessions I require of you. You are also confined to the third floor of the East Wing until further notice. One more incident, and I'm sending you to the naval academy."
Leone outwardly grimaced, though internally shrugged. Even if he was actually sent there, he was confident he could get himself kicked out before basic training ended.
"Are we clear?"
Leone's countenance was masked in seriousness. "Crystal."
He'd stayed out of trouble for the week — at least, any trouble that would cause his father to make good on his threat — which meant he was now a very bored prince. Fortunately, his parents were on a trip and wouldn't be back until tomorrow evening. Time for some fun.
Escaping his overseers was easy enough: he merely had to retire for an afternoon nap, change into plain clothes, pick the padlock on one of the windows, then slip out. If he came back before dinner, no one would know he'd been gone.
Leone twisted his satchel so the bag was behind his back, then began his descent down the aged stone wall. Heights didn't bother him, plus he'd scaled this surface on plenty of occasions — albeit it was now a tad more difficult than it used to be. In addition to the secured windows, his father sought to prevent his escapades by having every vine, trellis, and banner removed from the exterior of the castle. (His balcony had also been removed, but that was due to his penchant for using it as a fort from which to fling fragile food items.) Unbeknownst to the king, it was all for naught, since the prince had secretly taken up rock climbing as one of his many sporting interests. Regrettably, utilizing a rope in this particular venture would have increased his chances of being caught, so he traversed cautiously.
He was on the second story when he spotted a guard round the far corner below. Silently cursing, he scooted to the nearby balcony and crawled over the railing. Lying flat on his stomach, he waited for the sentry to pass.
"Emilio!"
Leone's head popped up to see another soldier approaching from the opposite direction.
"It's been months since we've been on the same shift!"
"Ronaldo! How good to see you!"
Leone scowled as the two paused to catch up on their personal lives underneath the protrusion. I need to hide. He crept over to the glass doors, staying as low as possible. The handles were locked, but he released the mechanism in seconds. The prince slid inside and closed the door without a sound.
The second floor was Natalia's. He hadn't seen any movement while outside, but nevertheless he verified he was alone. Thankfully, the room was currently unoccupied.
Leone could still hear the two men below the balcony, so he surveyed the room as he considered his options. It's been a while since I've been in here. This was his sister's "creation chamber," as she called it. There was an assortment of desks, chairs, stools, and pillows, along with a sofa, couch, and bay window bench. Several easels stood in random places, with unfinished paintings or drawings attached. One desk had sketchbooks scattered over it, another half-written letters, and another still was covered by several in-use embroidery hoops plus a sewing machine paused in the middle of what appeared to be a skirt.
His ears caught a snippet about a new baby, and he contemplated whether it would be better to wait out the conversationalists or sneak off some other way. A viable alternate route would be any of the windows on the opposite side of the wing. Then again, that plan put him further away from the perimeter wall. There was also a secret passageway not far down the hall, but it exited at the harbor, which was south when he wanted to head north. Best to bide my time here.
Since Natalia wasn't in this room, she was most likely in the adjacent chamber, which housed her private library. I hope she doesn't have any artistic urges. At least he only had to worry about avoiding her alone: his sister preferred solitude and constantly dismissed her guards and attendants. She always gets away with stuff like that. Their parents could have simply ordered the princess' commands be ignored, and Natalia wouldn't have uttered a peep in protest. Instead, they appeased their daughter by stationing the guards elsewhere and installing summons lines in multiple places. He, on the other hand, was never allowed to take meals in his rooms, excuse himself from excruciating meetings, or any of the other countless exceptions the princess was allowed.
They always did like Natalia better. Leone strolled around the temporary prison, his gaze lazily roaming over the myriads of works-in-progress. She's allowed to hide in her chambers all day doing whatever she wants.
Well, that wasn't entirely true. Their mother often forced her into social gatherings, such as her birthday party the previous week. The princess had turned fifteen, and Queen Mirella took the opportunity to invite a few dozen guests to the castle. Everyone knew his sister was uncomfortable with even one guest, but their mother was adept in pushing her daughter's constrictive limits. Natalia wouldn't protest a "small" celebration given their parents' numerous concessions to her lifestyle. Leone had passed through the "modest" event to obtain some cake and catch the eye of a young duchess (who joined him for a private party while everyone else was preoccupied with the gifts). Natalia's sixteenth birthday would likely involve a grand ball, as his had, and with it there'd be a more bountiful feast, both literally and figuratively.
Noticing the voices had ceased, Leone pivoted toward the balcony doors. Finally, time to— He felt a tug on his strap, and realized too late that his satchel had snagged one of the nearby easels. The mounted canvas clattered against the floor. He cringed as the connecting door flew open.
"Leone?!"
He faced the figure with tempered bravado and flashed a deceitfully cheerful smile. "Greetings, little sister." Just the sight of her irritated him. Their parents' preferred child. The "good one." Zero mischief-making, always obedient, proper to a fault. There was no bargaining with her.
"How did you get in?" Natalia's eyes ran over the doors on the hall-adjoining side of the room. Ascertaining they were still bolted, her focus flashed to the balcony before returning to her brother, hands planted on her hips. "You were sneaking out again, weren't you?"
Her accusatory tone annoyed him. Just because she's right doesn't mean she has to be nasty about it. "Nonsense! I simply stopped in for a delightful chat!"
"We don't 'chat,' and the only way you could have 'stopped in' is by breaking in. Everyone knows Pappa forbade your presence on this floor." She retrieved the fallen artwork and returned it to the easel.
He peeked over his sister's shoulder at the charcoal rendering of a picnic gathering. "But how else am I to see you besides invading? You never leave your chambers!"
"The only reason you ever want to see me is to harass me," Natalia grumbled as she examined her work for damage.
"Not so! Sometimes I like to offer critique." The prince removed one of the dark sticks from the tray and hovered it over the canvas. "For example, I think this fellow would look dashing with a mustache."
Natalia attempted to protect the area without smudging it, glaring hard at Leone.
"You're right, you're right," Leone conceded. He moved his hand to the left. "It would be much more befitting of this lady."
"Don't you dare!" Natalia threatened with all the fierceness of a mouse.
He moved on to a nearby blank canvas. "In that case, I can use this one, right? There's nothing on it!"
His sister grimaced. "I'm saving that one."
"Really? For what?"
"Something specific," she replied evasively.
"Ooo, a secret project? Do tell!"
"No, you'll just make fun of me like you always do."
"Well, if you're not going to amuse me with your art plans, I'll have to continue searching for a way to entertain myself." He scanned the room. "There must be something in here you'd let me draw on."
"I have plans for every piece of paper I own."
"And you can't just replace whatever I use? We're royalty, for Christ's sake!"
Natalia gasped. "Don't take the Lord's Name in vain!"
"Says the girl who won't share a scrap of paper with her brother."
"You'd only waste it," she muttered under her breath.
Leone replaced the utensil with a click of his tongue. "Surely you'll let me borrow a book, then?"
"So I can never see it again?" his sister scoffed. "What happens when I want to read it?"
"I know for a fact you have multiple copies of lots of novels in your library." The prince jabbed his finger in the direction of the indicated door.
The princess bristled. "A sixth edition isn't the same as the first print run, and I need both to compare the original words to the modernized language!"
"Yeah, changing the word 'an' to 'a' makes a big difference in the comprehension of the themes."
"You can't use my stuff," Natalia huffed. "End of discussion."
"Then what am I supposed to do?"
"Leave!"
He grabbed a portrait and held it as though he had an arm around another person's shoulders. "But we're having such fun!"
Granted, far less fun than he'd be having beyond the castle walls, but that plan was dead in the water. Even if he returned to his room now, Natalia would report his thwarted escape to the guards. Whether or not this resulted in him being shipped off to the naval academy depended on the king's mood when he received the information.
Unless...
His distractedness gave Natalia the opportunity to snatch her painting from him. As she re-homed it, Leone eyed the shelving that lined the walls. Most contained supplies, but some of the cases held knick-knacks, trinkets, and souvenirs. With his sister preoccupied, he made his way to one of the shelves and perused the assortment.
"This is new." He pointed to a snow globe positioned prominently amongst the perfectly placed collection. "Was it one of your birthday presents?" His sister didn't verbally respond, eyeing him warily instead. Leone tapped the glass dome. "Who gave it to you?" Natalia remained mum, watching in wide-eyed fright. "Some stranger you don't even know?" He tapped the glass again. "Seems worthless."
"No, Pappa chose it especially for me!" Her hand flew to her mouth in instant regret.
"Oh? How lovely." He picked up the ornament and gave it a hefty shake.
Natalia sucked in a breath. "Put it down."
"Why? Afraid I'll smash it?"
The princess bit her lip. Leone smiled knowingly. Answering "yes" would encourage him to justify her fears. Answering "no" would be a lie, and his sister was a terrible fibber.
"Tell you what. You forget you saw me—" He opened his satchel. "—and I'll make sure your little trinket returns unharmed." He moved his grandfather's dagger to access the spare shirt and trousers.
"You're blackmailing me?"
Some loose coins that had escaped his money pouch clinked against the barrel of his revolver while he rearranged the bag. "I prefer to think of it as insurance."
Natalia frowned as she pondered the alternative. "You never return any of my things. How do I know you'll actually keep your word?"
He finished shaping his extra clothing into a nest for his hostage. "You'll just have to trust me."
She narrowed her eyes. "The last time I trusted you, you told me my scarf was 'sacrificed in the line of duty.'"
The prince smirked at the recollection of the receiver of said "sacrifice" — a foreign girl whose only memorable feature had been her enjoyable... assets.
A clock chime brought him back to reality, and he abruptly perceived that Natalia was closer to the wall. She had been subtly shifting her position towards the alarm bell.
"Oooh, clever," he cooed, relaxing his grip on the globe and allowing it to slip from his grasp. He snickered at the panicked "No!" that escaped from his sister before he caught the endangered item. Leone flashed a devious grin at Natalia's sheet-white face. "Oops. Clumsy me."
"You did that on purpose!"
He feigned offense at the accusation. "Dear sister, that was an accident!" He wiggled the decoration. "And unless you're interested in how much of your collection meets a worse accidental fate, you won't take another step."
"You're cruel," she whimpered.
He gave the ornament a tiny toss. "I'm resourceful."
Natalia stared at her brother, pale with fear. "Please, put it back, Leone, please."
He tossed it higher. "I told you, your treasure is perfectly safe as long as you keep quiet about my little adventure."
"Stop, you'll break it!"
He began juggling the pedestaled sphere. "Just because you're an uncoordinated disaster doesn't mean I am. You could add two more objects and I'd still be more graceful than you trying to catch a gently-tossed pillow."
Natalia pressed her lips together and balled her fists.
"Remember the last time we went riding? I nearly died of laughter watching your sorry attempts to mount your mare."
Her now-red face scrunched in fury.
"I guess it's no wonder you barricade yourself in here. If I was a socially inept klutz like you, I'd never want to show my face to anyone either."
She inhaled shakily.
"Honestly, the only thing you're good for is marriage. Pappa should give your hand to whoever gives us the best deal. You won't even need to produce any spare heirs for the monarchy — that, at least, is a pleasurable process with which I've had plenty of experience. I'm sure I can manage a few—" He bobbled a catch, but quickly recovered. "—dozen."
"You detestable, despicable, revolting piece of filth!" she shrieked. "This is exactly why everyone in this kingdom hates you!"
He reflexively caught the globe and ended his performance, stunned by her sudden display of audacious contempt. He knew a minority of the royal staff disliked him, but declaring the animosity of every citizen was a bold assumption. After all, he had plenty of friends, high and low, who flocked to him wherever he went.
"You're so dramatic," he chided. "There are scores of people who adore me."
"Yes, I'm sure they adore you, not your money and power," his sister shot back.
He rolled his eyes, but doubts began to nag him. Perhaps his friends only pretended to like him because he was the crown prince. After all, he always had a tidy sum on hand, and his royal status kept him and his associates out of any real trouble. Maybe they actually shared his sister's views and would abandon him if there was no longer any benefit to his presence.
He shook the suspicions away.
"Don't be ridiculous. They simply can't resist my endearing charm."
"Then they're as worthless as you! Anyone with a crumb of sense can discern your depravity! You're a disgrace to our family! You don't deserve to sit on the throne!"
This verbal lashing was not at all what he'd envisioned when setting out, and his mood grew sourer by the second. "Excuse me, I never chose to be a firstborn prince! I don't care if I don't deserve the crown — I don't want it!"
"Good, because nobody else wants you to have it either!"
Her stinging words pushed him past his tolerance threshold. "Well, I know that's not true, because you're a pathetic recluse who couldn't hold a conversation if her life depended on it!"
"Unlike you, I actually listen rather than spout vapid dribble!" she screeched.
"Listen to whom? You're always alone!"
"I hear more than you think, and I know nobody wants you around at all, much less ruling the country!"
His grip on the glass tightened. "Fine by me! I'm sick of this stupid place and this stupid family!"
"And we're sick of you! You're a heinous, wretched, heartless monster!"
His knuckles turned white. "And you're a miserable spoiled brat!"
"I hate you! Mamma and Pappa hate you! Everyone hates you! We'd be better off if you were dead!"
"YOU FIRST!"
CRASH!
It all happened so fast that he was initially bewildered to find his body lunged forward. The haze of rage dissipated to reveal his sister lying on the floor, the snow globe shattered against the wall behind her.
"Natalia?"
She wasn't moving.
He approached her, peering intensely. Something wasn't right. She was pale again, and completely still. She didn't even seem to be breathing. Her hair, splayed out around her, had an odd glisten on the right side of her head. He squinted. It's wet? Then he noticed the dark splotch spreading across the floor.
Blood.
He recoiled in horror.
I killed her.
No punishment would be satisfactory, not for this crime. He backed away, terrified.
Pappa's going to kill me.
He reached the door and fled.
"Ralph, you're up."
Leone blinked at the table of acquaintances and adjusted his slipped satchel strap. The drone of chatter in the packed tavern made it easy to lose focus. He tossed some chips in the center. "Call."
"An awfully hasty move for someone hardly paying attention," Anson scolded the youngest player.
"I have more important things to think about," Leone retorted with a shrug.
"Suit yourself. Makes it easier to win."
"Hah, I could beat you with my eyes closed. In fact, I'll sweep this room, just like I did last week."
"That was a good run," Fito complimented. "If you win tonight you'll beat Anson's record for tournament cashes and total earnings — in a fraction of the time, no less!"
"Hmph," Anson grumbled as he added to the pot. "I hope you were contemplating which hussy you'll have comfort you after I knock you out."
"You mean who I'll celebrate with after I win?" Leone grinned wickedly, taking a swig from his glass. "There's no debate, since I don't need to choose."
"That popular, eh?" Caleb snickered.
"I could send my leftovers your way."
"I'll take 'em," Fito interrupted.
Caleb scowled. "Disgusting, and no. Fold."
"That's a loser's attitude," Leone reproved. "Don't take after him, Nathaniel."
Unperturbed by the banter, the elder man calmly made his play. Seated next to Leone, he'd been the reason why the runaway prince's mind had wandered in the first place. Nathaniel reminded him of his father, not in looks but in presence: reserved and dignified, imposing yet not threatening.
Six months. It had been six months since he'd left Sicilia with nothing but the clothes on his back and the items in his satchel. Granted, that had been more than enough, given his excellent skills and luck. He lived quite luxuriously, but never stayed in one place too long — he couldn't risk being caught by whatever royal personnel were surely seeking him. In fact, his latest stop was lasting a smidgen longer than he was comfortable with. I think I'll take the last train out of Weselton tomorrow night.
From time to time he'd wonder if it would be possible to find out what the public knew about his sister's death, but he couldn't think of a way to ask without potentially giving someone a lead on his whereabouts. He'd checked various newspapers in the weeks following the incident, but hadn't seen anything on her health or his disappearance. It was likely her demise had been covered up as an accident — or, given how little Natalia showed herself in public, swept under the rug altogether. Leone ignored the knot in his stomach and focused on the conversation once more.
"There's another meet tomorrow."
"Is there, now? Will you be in this one, Ralph?"
"Sure will," Leone affirmed. "I'll come out on top again, too."
"Such uncivilized behavior," Nathaniel admonished.
"I disagree," Hubert interjected. "There's nothing like a brawl to make a man feel alive!"
"Except winning," Anson remarked, calling another raise.
"I'd take a good romp over money any day." Fito tossed his cards into the pile.
"That must be why you're always broke!" Hubert laughed, the rest of the table chuckling along with him.
The hours ticked by until only Leone and Anson remained. A few of the new guys had left after losing, but the seasoned competitors stood around the table, observing in tense silence.
"All in," Anson announced.
Leone finished his drink. If I lose, I'm out. He took another look at his hand. Nearly unbeatable. "Call."
Anson grinned and flipped over four aces and a king.
Leone blinked, stunned.
"Nothing beats that."
"True," Leone admitted, "but I have four kings and an ace." He laid his hand face-up on the table.
"One of 'em's cheating!" Fito exclaimed.
Angry murmurs ran through the crowd.
"I knew you were dishonest the moment I set eyes on you," Anson declared.
"Or you couldn't stand the thought of having your records broken," Leone countered.
Anson scoffed. "I'm above such petty nonsense. Unlike a drifter such as yourself, I have no need for money. Everyone knows my grandfather is the duke of this province."
"Oh, that makes sense. After all, when the only things you have to brag about are your grandpappy's title and your gambling success, it's obvious you'd stoop to any low to defend your reputation."
"Gentlemen," Nathaniel interrupted, "this is getting us nowhere. Since there's no discernible difference in the cards, a search of body and seat should reveal the cheater's original hand."
"As if I would consent to such an egregious invasion of my person!" Anson snapped.
Leone unbuttoned a shirt cuff. "Well, there's nothing up my sleeves."
"Naturally. I'm sure you've already disposed of the evidence."
The onlookers grew more restless.
"Search 'em by force!" one suggested.
"Just ban them both!" someone else jeered.
Leone had been in enough fights to sense when things were taking a turn for the worse. "I'll be more than happy to take a permanent leave." He took a step backward.
"Like hell you will!" Anson spat as his hand darted for his pocket.
The prince was also no stranger to the movements of a man drawing a weapon. He instinctively drew his own pistol, but a rough shove threw him off balance.
The next thing he knew, he was looking at sideways table legs as two shots reverberated amidst shouts of chaos. Dazed, Leone blinked to clear his vision. Anson was on the floor a few paces away, a familiar crimson seeping through his vest.
"Your lawyer's here."
The officer retreated from the stuffy space, leaving two pairs of boots (presumably worn by people) in the room with the prisoner.
Leone kept his eyes down, wordlessly staring at the manacles on his wrists. He hadn't asked for an attorney, but maybe he hadn't needed to: he had no idea how this province handled these things.
"Ralph."
Leone's head jerked up at the familiar voice. Nathaniel stood next to a suited man holding a briefcase. The acquaintance's left arm was in a sling.
Leone's curiosity was too great for him to keep silent. "What happened to your arm?"
"He got himself shot saving your sorry hide," the lawyer laughed.
Leone's eyes widened. "You were the one that pushed me?!"
"How about a 'thank you' there, son? He took a bullet for you!"
"It's alright, Lucas." Nathaniel sat in one of the free chairs. "I retired a few years ago after three decades on the force. Some things never leave you."
"That explains how you saved me, but not why you're helping me."
"We're neighbors," Lucas informed the youth as he waved his hand between himself and Nathaniel. "When I saw his arm, I naturally had to know what the hell happened to him."
"I suspected you were on your own," Nathaniel continued, "so I asked Lucas if he'd represent you."
"I'll defend anyone for the right price!" Lucas chortled.
Leone shook his head. "I can't pay you. They confiscated my bag."
The lawyer grinned. "They stored it as a possession, not evidence. Attorney-client privilege allowed me to take a look at it. I already helped myself to my cut — but don't worry, I left you enough to keep you afloat for a bit when you get out."
Leone expelled a puff of air. "Guess I don't have much choice, then."
"Don't sound so glum. We've got a good self-defense case—" Lucas clapped Nathaniel's good shoulder. "—especially with our star witness."
Nathaniel didn't share his neighbor's optimism. "The prosecution will argue that Anson would have missed and then been immediately apprehended, thus it wasn't truly self-defense. Don't expect a full acquittal. Just hope you don't go down for murder, like the Duke wants."
Leone's gaze dropped back to his wrists. Even if I do, I'd deserve it.
Nathaniel rapped his unrestricted knuckles on the table. "Isn't there anyone I can contact for you?"
He shook his head. Whatever fate awaited him in Sicilia was certainly just as bad as, if not worse than, the sentence he'd receive here.
Nathaniel stood. "Alright. Let me know if you change your mind."
Leone took in his new living quarters: a tiny cell with nothing but a ragged, straw-stuffed mattress on the floor. The small, barred window provided little light. All in all, it wasn't much to look at.
He crawled onto the mattress and wedged himself into the corner. The walls were chilled with November cold seeping in from the outside, but he didn't care. I'm going to die here.
"Psst."
The whisper came through the interior wall behind him.
"Hey, newcomer."
"What do you want?" Leone murmured.
"Just to welcome you," the aged voice replied. "Name's David."
"Ralph." He hadn't revealed his true identity to anyone, and he wasn't about to start now.
The unseen man was quiet for a moment. "That's not actually your name, is it?"
The question was rhetorical. Leone didn't answer.
"Well, regardless of what you call yourself, know that if you ever need anything, I'm here twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week."
"Good for you that you can joke like that," Leone growled.
"You sound like a young fellow. What're you in for?"
"Murder," Leone mumbled.
"Come again?"
"Technically, possession of an illegal weapon, but it might as well be murder. Even though it was ruled self-defense, the victim was nobility, so there was pressure on the judge to give a severe penalty for the other charge. I was sentenced to be imprisoned unless the fine could be paid."
"And how much is that?"
Leone chucked a pebble at the opposite wall. "More money than even a king would possess."
"Ah." There was a shuffling of pages. "Well, at least you have me to keep you company."
Leone grunted and wriggled down to lie on the mattress. "Great."
He could hear David reading in a low voice. It sounded like Scripture, but what verse Leone neither knew nor cared. Broken and empty, he could do nothing but wait for a fleeting sleep that would only result from absolute exhaustion.
I hope I never wake up.
David's voice wafted from beyond the brick wall.
"'Now the birth of Jesus Christ was on this wise: When as his mother Mary was espoused to Joseph—'"
"You're reading louder than usual today," Leone complained.
"It's Christmas! Of course I'm going to make sure I share the greatest gift ever with my fellow man!"
Leone was the only "fellow man" in this cell block, but he was rather certain David was well aware of that.
"'—before they came together, she was found with child of the Holy Ghost.'"
"Is it actually Christmas?" Leone interrupted. He'd lost track of the days, but a month of incarceration was close enough to what he'd have guessed.
"Yep, unless I made a mistake in my calendar." David chuckled before continuing. "'Then Joseph her husband, being a just man...'"
Leone leaned back, only half-listening. He'd heard the story every Christmas, as it was one of the few times a year his family read Scripture together. He unwittingly pictured his parents having a wretched holiday, having lost both their children. He shook the image away, but the misery lingered. That's all I've ever done — cause others grief. He began lethargically counting the number of bricks coated in sunset shadows.
"'... And he came and dwelt in a city called Nazareth: that it might be fulfilled which was spoken by the prophets, He shall be called a Nazarene.'"
He'd made it to 57 when he realized David had finished his reading. His ears perked up at a soft scraping sound, but he didn't pinpoint it until he observed a nearby brick being pulled into his neighbor's cell. He crawled over, curious. A leather-bound book was abruptly passed through the hole.
"Merry Christmas," David called as the Bible plopped onto the mattress.
Leone crouched down to peer through the gap. "Why are you giving me this? I won't use it."
"Yes you will. You have nothing else to do."
Leone couldn't argue with that, so he switched tactics. "You read it more that I would."
"I don't need it anymore. I've got the whole thing memorized."
"Oh." He wondered just how long David had been here. Probably as long as I'll end up being here.
"It comes with a bookmark."
Leone examined the pages and discovered a thin silver chain sticking out. He parted the wafer sheets to reveal that the chain was a necklace with a slightly tarnished cross attached.
He thumped the Holy Book shut and whipped it across the cell. It hit the opposite wall with a WHAP! as he threw himself into the mattress. "I'm going to sleep!"
The brick returned to its spot. "Good night, then."
He awoke at the clang! of a cell door being unlocked. Sitting up, he saw it wasn't his. He scrambled to the bars and strained to get a good view. Two guards entered David's cell while a third waited in the hall.
"What's going on?" Leone inquired of the one guard in his line of sight.
"Just cleaning house," was the gruff reply.
There was some grunting and shuffling of fabric. Then, the two guards emerged into the corridor with a long, sheet-wrapped mass between them.
"David!" Leone cried. There was no response, though he wasn't truly expecting one. "Is he... gone?"
"No, we just like lugging dead weight around," one wheezed.
"Went in his sleep," the man carrying David's feet answered.
Leone watched until the group disappeared through the door, then slumped against the wall. He could hear his heart pounding in the stifling silence. I'm alone. He stared at his hands. I'm truly alone. He'd never been utterly isolated like this before. The castle had an assortment of servants just a call away. When traveling, he'd always been able to find some sort of companionship, whether by charisma, wealth, or both. The local jail was a bastion of commotion, and David had been quite intent on making his presence known throughout the prison wing (despite Leone's protests). But now, there was no one — absolutely no one.
I don't want to be alone. He retrieved the Bible from its dusty corner and opened it to the bookmarked page. Please don't leave me alone.
The groan of metal woke him. Unlike a week prior, today it was his own door.
"Come on out," the guard ordered.
Leone briefly brushed his fingertips against the cross around his neck before he grabbed his Bible and stood. "Am I being transferred?"
"Not my job to ask questions."
He followed his escort down a maze of halls until they emerged in a room with a barred inner window.
"Number 3973," the guard barked at the man seated behind the reinforced glass.
"Can't you be polite about anything?" the clerk grumbled as he moved a small section of the barrier. He tossed something through the opening to the unprotected side of the counter. "Here you go."
Leone gawked at the item, dumbfounded. "You want me to take this?"
The clerk lowered his glasses. "It's yours, isn't it?"
"Yes, but—" Leone gingerly lifted the leather satchel. "—why are you giving it to me?"
The protected man shot a peeved glare at the officer before addressing Leone. "We received a court order. You're free to go."
Leone's breath stopped. "What?"
The clerk motioned toward the guard, who was busy unlocking the entrance to the lobby.
"You. Out. Bye."
"I don't underst—"
His escort hauled him to the door, opened it, and shoved him through.
"Hey—!"
He stopped short and rubbed his eyes in disbelief.
"Pappa? Mamma?" His throat closed. "Natalia?"
His family beamed at him.
"How? Why?"
Their answer was to envelop him in one massive hug. He could only sob in return.
Author's Note: Scripture references: Matthew 1:18,19 (KJV), Matthew 2:23 (KJV)