“Come back to Carbognano with me,” Giulia Farnese said. “Please, Leonello. Come back with me. Live with me. Love me.”

I put my cup aside with great care, noticing that my hand shook. “I can’t love anyone,” I said, my voice coming from very far away, and I slid down from the bed to my feet.

“You idiot,” Giulia said in a rough voice, and rose to her knees. On her knees she was shorter than I, and she reached her arms up around my neck as though I were the tallest of men, and kissed me.

She kissed me.

She—

Dio.

She kissed me.

Her soft mouth withdrew from mine. Her eyes were enormous, pleading. “Leonello?” she said, and she was still pressed so close against me, her lips brushed mine as they moved.

“I’m ugly,” I whispered. “I’m so ugly.” And as my eyes filled with tears, I wasn’t just speaking of my looks.

She buried her face in my chest, her arms closing about me. My hand twined through her glorious hair, and she smelled of honeysuckle and gillyflowers and light.

“Orsino was handsome,” she said. “Handsome as a dream. But he was gutless, and I’ve no use for a man who isn’t brave. Not after knowing you. You are the bravest man I know.”

“I’m a murderer.” I said it harshly. “I’ve killed men in cold blood, I—”

“Rodrigo is a murderer.” She cut me off. “He has no kindness at all, not anymore. And no desire to be kind, to make himself a better man. Not the way he once did. But you—Leonello, no matter how many sharp words you throw out around you, no matter how many enemies you’ve killed, you can still be the kindest of men. When you want to be.” Her eyes were bright with pleading, terrible with hope. “Please tell me you want to be.”

I closed my eyes and let the tears fall. I felt her cheek turn against my chest.

“You’re not ugly, Leonello,” she whispered. “And you’re not cruel. You are a lion, and you are mine.”

My arms closed around her. We rocked together, my cheek pressed against the top of her golden head, and I wept. I could not remember the last time I had cried, and I had never cried at all where another living soul could see me—but I wept now, my whole body heaving, and Giulia only held me tighter. I felt the dark core in me cracking in the cocoon of her scent, cracking to pieces and fleeing my soul like roaches fleeing the dawn.

By the time the tears passed we were coiled together on the embroidered bedcover, tangled up in her velvet skirts and her loops of silky hair. “See what I mean about the hair?” she whispered.