The next day, the sun beat down hard not cool for my pounding head. I groaned, throwing off the covers. The room smelled of dead woodsmoke and stale wine, a sharp reminder of my big mouth yesterday facing the priest. Audacity is funny in the evening, but in the morning, it's just another headache.
I got up, ignoring the dizziness, and splashed ice-cold water on my face. A little shock to wake me up. I dressed quickly: soft boots, dark wool trousers, and a linen shirt unbuttoned at the collar. I buckled my belt, checking my dagger was there. Not the sword, too heavy for what I planned. Just a short blade, useful for a rabbit... or a lock of hair.
I went down to the stables, avoiding the Great Hall. No desire to run into my father, nor Father Benedetto. The servants were already there, cleaning up the remains of the feast. Roccaferro Castle was waking up, a gray stone beast stretching out on the cliff.
"Going out hunting, Master Valerian?" asked the old groom, presenting Notte, my black stallion.
"Something like that, Marco. I need to see if the borders are still there."
The old man smiled, showing his missing teeth. He knew. Everyone knew, except maybe Baron de Valdi, Lucrezia's father. And even if he knew, he preferred to ignore it as long as it remained discreet.
I mounted up, and Notte whinnied, impatient. We left the citadel at a trot, then galloped along the steep paths through the olive trees.
The air was fresh, smelling of wild thyme and dry earth. The further I got from the castle, the lighter I felt. Here, no rules, no fuss, no silent Gods judging you. Just the wind, the stone, and the hope of a rendezvous.
I steered my mount southeast, along the Argenta River to the ruins of the Old Temple. Roman remains, or maybe even older—white marble columns overrun by vegetation. A forgotten place, except by us.
She was already there.
Her white mare was grazing quietly near the water. Lucrezia was sitting on a block of stone, the sun in her blonde hair. She wore an emerald green riding habit, cinched at the waist, highlighting her curves.
When she saw me, her face lit up with an incredible smile. I jumped off Notte and ran to her. She stood up and threw herself into my arms.
Her body against mine was all that mattered. She smelled of roses and musk. I kissed her with a hunger that had nothing to do with the banquet. A deep kiss, as if we were trying to breathe each other in.
"You're late," she murmured against my lips, her hands on my shoulders.
"I had to dodge a priest," I replied, touching her back through the fabric. "Valid excuse, right?"
She pulled back to look at me, a shadow of worry in her hazel eyes.
"Benedetto? My father spoke of him last night. The Inquisition is looking for reasons to seize the Northern lands. Valerian... they are dangerous."
I caressed her cheek, tucking away a loose strand.
"They are annoying, Lucrezia. Bureaucrats in white robes. They'll leave once my father pays their tax. Let's forget them. Not here. Not now."
I kissed her again, gently, to chase away her fear. I wanted her to forget the world. Only me.
I led her into the ruins, where the broken roof let in the light, but the walls protected us. We had set up a spot with old blankets, hidden under a slab.
Once sheltered, desire took over. My hands grew bolder, undoing her dress. She wasn't a fragile damsel; Lucrezia had the fire of our land. She pulled at my shirt, her fingers tracing lines on my chest, seeking skin, muscle, life.
When we fell onto the blankets, the world disappeared.
It wasn't about domination. It was communion. There was infinite tenderness in the way she received me, and adoration in the way I touched her. Every caress was a promise, every sigh a prayer far more sincere than those in the cathedrals.
Sunlight filtered through the leaves, drawing patterns on her bare skin. I memorized every detail. It was beautiful. Simple. Warm.
Later, lying against each other, she rested her head on my chest. I played with her hair.
"My father wants to marry me off to the Count of Viterbo," she said suddenly.
I was shocked. Viterbo was a sick old man, rich, and as pious as a tomb.
"He'll have to go through me," I growled, my muscles tensing.
"It's a political alliance, Valerian. To protect our lands from the Church."
She sat up, looking me in the eyes.
"Come away with me."
The words floated in the air.
"Huh?"
"Let's run away," she insisted fervently. "Not to the capital. To the East, beyond the mountains, to the free cities of the coast. Where the Inquisition has no power. We could live... simply. You, me. No titles, no wars."
The idea was crazy. Treason against my clan, my father, my blood. And yet, looking at her, naked and vulnerable, the idea seemed like the only sensible thing in years.
"Beyond the mountains..." I repeated.
I turned my head to the East. A gap in the wall showed me the black peaks of The Scar. They seemed impassable. Hostile. And yet, they drew me in. Since last night, that sensation hadn't left me.
"I need to take care of something first," I said slowly.
Lucrezia frowned.
"What?"
"A... hunch. A hunt I want to go on. A path I saw the other day, higher than Eagle's Pass. If we are to leave, I need to know if there's a way through."
A half-lie. I wanted a passage, yes. But mostly, I wanted to understand what was pulling me up there. That violet glow. That beating in the stone.
I got dressed reluctantly. Lucrezia did the same, slowly, with sadness.
"Promise me you'll be careful," she said, fastening her cloak. "Those mountains... the shepherds say they change shape. That the paths are never the same."
I kissed her on the forehead, holding her face in my hands.
"I know these mountains like the back of my hand, Lucrezia. I'll be back before sunset. And we'll talk about the East."
I helped her back onto her horse. I watched her ride away, her silhouette shrinking. I felt a pang in my heart, an urge to call her back, to gallop after her and never leave her.
If I had listened to that instinct, the world would have been different. The Gods would have continued to rule, and humanity remained on its knees.
But I didn't.
I turned to Notte, who was pawing the ground, nervous.
"Come on, old boy. Let's go."
I steered Notte toward the steep slopes, turning my back on civilization, love, and warmth. Ahead of me, the vegetation grew scarcer. The birds fell silent. The wind held its breath.
The higher I climbed, the thicker the silence became. Not the calm of nature. A heavy silence. As if a glass jar had been placed over the world.
And still, that sensation. *Thump. Thump.*
It didn't come from me. It came from ahead.
I urged Notte into a gallop on an unknown path. I felt invincible, still high on Lucrezia. I felt alive.
I didn't know I was galloping toward the end of everything.