“Oh. Oh!” I smiled at him. “How wonderful you are!”
He cocked his head and examined me. “Even after my rude dismissal of you in your time of need, you are so kind?”
He meant his anger in the garden, and I appreciated his near apology. Well done . . . for a man. “I’m not kind. It’s truth. To be able to provide light to the city and country on the darkest night, to guide the weary traveler to shelter and a meal, to assure Verona’s citizens that the prince is in his home and in command—what a gift you give.”
“Well.” He pretended modesty. “I must make it work.”
“Will it work?” I asked in concern.
“Of course. It’s so simple that I’m amazed no one has done it before.”
At his self-confidence, I laughed out loud and touched his hand.
As if my approval meant much to him, he glowed like one of his lamps. “What are you doing up here?”
Recalled to the circumstances, I leaned my elbows on the rail, looked out over the city, and drew in a deep breath. “The dowager princess was attacked by a thief and a villain. She survives, but barely, and I’ve been at her side all day. I needed . . . air.”
“No. No!” His distress seemed genuine and was, to me, surprising for a man who was not a native of Verona. “Princess Ursula is famed in Murano for her patronage. I’ve been told that as a young woman, she ordered a window made for her with glass, and, of course, so many years ago, the glass was lumpy and cloudy, and the window very heavy, but she started a fashion and the glassmakers remember.”
“That window is still in place.La canagliawrenched it from its hinges, but the glass is unharmed.” I swung on him as if he was responsible. “Nonna Ursula possesses many beautiful things, no doubt envy and evil reign in one man’s heart, but to attack an elderly woman with such brutality—” For the first time since I’d been summoned to the palace, rage choked me.
Lysander handed me a wineskin. “Drink.”
I did. I took a breath and drank again.
“When you’re angry, you flush the color of a ripe pomegranate.”
I glared.Flatterer. Not.
He rummaged in his brocade bag, brought out part of a loaf of bread, and tore off a chunk. He handed me that and used his knife to slice cheese, and watched while I devoured it all, and again washed it down with wine. I wiped my mouth on my sleeve. Revived, I said, “Friend, my thanks. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was.”
“You have to eat and drink for Princess Ursula. She needs you.”
“I know.” I did know, and I turned back to look out over the city. I sipped again, then handed him the wineskin. “I’ve lived my life being the practical one. Then I met you and fell in love, solved a crime, kissed a prince, was betrothed for the hundredth time—”
“ ‘Hundredth’?” Lysander sounded amused and sympathetic.
“Approximately. Now a ghost demands I find his killer—”
Lysander choked on the wine, sputtered, and did a double take. “What? What did you say?”
I paused and thought. Lysander and I had fallen into our previous easy companionship, I hadn’t realized . . . “I haven’t told you that, have I?”
“No, you have not! What ghost? What . . . ?” His wide-eyed alarm would have done any actor proud.
“Prince Escalus the elder. Cal’s father.” WherewasElder? I’d expected to find him here.
“What killer?” Lysander did a double–double take. “Wait . . .Cal?”
“My betrothed. Probably best not to repeat that.Cal, I mean. It’s a family nickname.” Not his favorite nickname, either, but not as bad as Callie.
I wasn’t sure whether Lysander gaped at me about the ghost or the nickname, but I rather briskly announced, “I am not a liar and dramatist. A ghost, Prince Escalus the elder, haunts the palace seeking justice, and only I can see him.”
Lysander drank again, deeply, then handed me the wineskin and climbed back up the ladder. When he got up high enough to see the top of the column, he rested his arms on the stone and examined his perch. He nodded, as if he saw something that pleased him, and asked, “Can you hand me the lamp?”
“No. How tall do you think I am?”
He glanced down at me, smiled as if my irritated, upturned face gave him pleasure, and climbed back down as I lifted the heavy lamp over my head. He gripped the handle in one hand and the base in the other, and even watching him made me breathe deeply to calm my heart. The round steps looked precarious to me, the ground was very far, and the breeze tossed his fair hair in its loving fingers.
