From their hidden position in the shadows, Marie could see the chaos unfolding.
Matthew was screaming orders, demanding that Marcello's tent be searched. The camp was in uproar.
"He has escaped!"Matthew roared. "That Italian dog Marcello went north! He appears to be traveling with someone else!"
William appeared, visibly panicking. "The King will hang us all for failing to deliver Marie! We are dead men!"
Matthew pointed north. "We must hunt them down! They cannot have gotten far!"
Then Ann emerged from her tent, dressed in just her undergarments, her hair loose around her shoulders. She looked at Matthew with utter contempt.
"You are as stupid as you look," Ann said calmly. "Perhaps Lorenzo hit you too hard in the head."
She walked toward them, unashamed of her appearance.
"Lorenzo is behind this, obviously. He is not far from here. He must be hiding in the forest or vicinity with Marie."
Ann's voice turned cold and calculating. "You have two choices. Abort the mission and admit defeat. You may or may not lose your heads, but at least the King will be ready to adjust his strategy. Or you pursue, which means fighting. Lorenzo is eager to chop Matthew's head off. He will try to avoid open conflict until he can credibly call it an ambush, but he will not hesitate if cornered."
William stepped forward. "What do you suggest?"
"Find Lorenzo now while he is trapped by diplomacy—he cannot admit he was not on his way to court as the King decreed, so he will not fight if you corner him here. Or waste time chasing Marcello, who does not have Marie."
Matthew spat blood. "You had one job! Get Lorenzo to leave!"
Ann flipped her hair over her shoulder. "And I succeeded. Lorenzo did leave. The abortion herb in the bathwater paved the way for everything. But William fumbled by failing to seduce Marie or at least make her doubt Lorenzo."
Ann turned to walk away. "Make your choice. I am done cleaning up after your incompetence."
Marie heard and saw everything. Her sister's words cut through her like a blade.
She gasped, and Lorenzo's hand immediately covered her mouth, pulling her deeper into the darkness and away from the clearing.
Marie's legs gave out. Lorenzo caught her, lifting her into her arms.
"We need to move now," Lorenzo whispered urgently. "Ann knows where I would hide. This is dangerous."
Marie could only nod, shock rendering her mute.
Lorenzo carried her swiftly through the forest, signalling her men to follow. They were in a perilous position—the element of surprise was gone.
Lorenzo brought Marie to her tent and laid her gently on the bed.
"I am sorry you had to discover it this way," Lorenzo said quietly. "But refusing to see the truth was putting your life in grave danger. They are not protecting you, Marie. They are selling you."
Lorenzo leaned down and kissed Marie's forehead, then left the tent to organize their defenses.
Marie lay there in the darkness.
Then she cried.
She cried bitterly, great wrenching sobs that shook her entire body.
She remembered their childhood—Ann always protecting her, always fierce, always her champion. Ann had defended her from Mathew s' cruelty, had held her when she was frightened, had been her safe harbor.
Then they had grown apart. Marie sent away to be educated, Ann remaining at court learning politics and power.
But this past Christmas, they had reconnected. Marie had been so happy to have her sister back, to feel that bond restored.
Now she understood.
It had all been a lie.
The pieces fell into place with sickening clarity. Her sudden "chance" meeting with William—carefully orchestrated. Her father's urgent push to marry her off before her eighteenth birthday. The King's constant presence at gatherings, his lingering gaze, the way he watched her like a prize to be won.
All of it had been planned.
All of it.
Marie grabbed the pillow and screamed into it, muffling the sound so Lorenzo's men would not hear.
Her family had betrayed her. Her own sister had poisoned her, had plotted to hand her over to the King like a piece of property.
And she had been too blind, too trusting, too desperate to believe in love and family to see it.
She screamed again into the pillow and cried until she had no tears left, until her throat was raw and her eyes swollen.
Outside, Lorenzo stood guard for a moment, her hand on her sword, listening to the muffled sounds of Marie's grief and feeling her own heart break for the woman she loved.
Outside Lorenzo's tent, in a small clearing illuminated by torches, Lorenzo stood with her maps spread across a makeshift field table. Her captains and senior officers crowded around, faces grim in the flickering light.
Marie stood among them, still pale from her earlier grief but listening intently.
"Matthew already knows Marcello was a decoy,"Lorenzo said, her finger tapping the map. "By now, he has found the false trail heading north and realized he was fooled. So we cannot use the same trick twice."
Roberto nodded grimly. "Then what do we do, Your Highness? They will be searching for you specifically now."
Lorenzo studied the map, her eyes tracing the roads. "We need to force Matthew to stretch his forces too thin. Make him choose where to commit his men, knowing he cannot cover everywhere at once."
She began marking positions. "Here is what we shall do. We divide our forces into three groups, but we position them strategically between my residence and Henry's citadel."
Her finger traced the first route. "The first group departs immediately for my manor. They ride hard, make themselves visible on the road. If Matthew has stationed men there or sends riders to intercept, this group draws them away from the main routes."
She moved to mark a second position, roughly halfway between her residence and the citadel. "The second group takes position here—halfway to Henry's court. They establish a visible presence at this crossroads, making camp, appearing to wait for someone. This forces Matthew to commit men to watching them, wondering if this is where we plan to meet."
Then her finger traced a third route—the most direct path to the citadel. "The third group rides straight for the citadel on the main road. Fast, visible, looking exactly like what Matthew expects—a prince rushing to answer the King's summons."
Roberto frowned, studying the positions. "But where are you in all this, Your Highness?"
Lorenzo smiled. "Marie and I take none of these routes. We travel alone on the lesser roads, the paths merchants and farmers use. We avoid the main thoroughfares entirely and approach the citadel from an unexpected direction."
"That still leaves you unguarded," another officer objected. "Your Highness, we cannot—"
"It confuses Matthew completely,"Lorenzo interrupted. "He must now divide his forces three ways—watchers at my residence, watchers at the halfway point, and pursuit on the main road to the citadel. He has perhaps forty men at most. Splitting them means no more than ten to fifteen per position."
Marie spoke up, drawing everyone's attention. "And while his men are stretched thin watching three obvious groups, you slip past unnoticed on routes he is not monitoring."
"Precisely,"Lorenzo confirmed.
Roberto still looked troubled. "It is sound strategy, Your Highness, but it puts you at terrible risk. If you are discovered alone on those back roads—"
"Then we are two travelers, nothing more," Lorenzo said. "A minor noble and his wife heading to court. We attract no attention because we appear insignificant."
"But if something goes wrong—"
Marie interrupted this time. "Then we have a middle ground." She pointed to the map. "The group taking the direct route to the citadel—they could leave two men behind here, where this lesser road meets the main thoroughfare, about two miles from the citadel."
She traced the route with her finger. "Those two men hide and monitor movement. When we reach this point, two miles out, we signal our position. They join us then for the final approach into the citadel, when visibility is highest and the risk of recognition is greatest."
The officers exchanged glances, considering.
Lorenzo nodded slowly. "That addresses the concern about the final approach. The most dangerous part—entering the citadel itself—we do not do alone."
Roberto stroked his beard thoughtfully. "It could work. Matthew must split his forces to cover all three groups. Even if he suspects the prince is not with any of them, he cannot afford to ignore them—any one of the groups could be the real one, or could be moving to meet the prince somewhere."
"Exactly," Lorenzo said. "He must commit men to watching all three, which means he has fewer men available to search the back roads. And even if he suspects we are traveling separately, he cannot possibly monitor every minor road and farm path between here and the citadel."
Another officer spoke up. "And the two scouts positioned near the citadel can warn us if there is a heavy presence of Matthew's men or the King's guards waiting."
"Just so,"Lorenzo confirmed. "If the approach is compromised, the scouts signal us and we adjust accordingly."
The officers looked at each other, then back at Lorenzo.
Roberto was the first to nod. "It is a good plan, Your Highness. Risky, but tactically sound."
The others murmured agreement.
Lorenzo looked around once more. "Any other objections?"
Silence fell over the group.
Then Lorenzo drew her sword in one smooth, deliberate motion.
She walked to the center of the clearing and placed the blade flat on the ground before her.
Every soldier immediately dropped to one knee, right fists pressed over their hearts.
The torchlight flickered across their faces—young and old, scarred and fresh, all united in absolute loyalty.
Lorenzo's voice rang out, clear and commanding, in Italian:
"Viviamo e moriamo per servire. Figli dell'impero, alzatevi e combattete per me. Vi guiderò all'eternità." (We live and die to serve. Children of the empire, rise and fight for me. I shall lead you to eternity.)
As one, every man responded, voices unified and powerful:
"Giuriamo di seguire." (We swear to follow.)
They rose together in a coordinated movement of perfect discipline.
Then, without another word, they dispersed to break camp and prepare for the journey.
Marie stood watching, utterly transfixed.
She had never witnessed anything like it—the ritual, the unity, the absolute devotion in their voices and bearing.
When the clearing had mostly emptied, Marie finally spoke.
"What was that?"
Lorenzo retrieved her sword and sheathed it. "A custom. It brings them luck in battle. Reminds them what they fight for."
Marie tried to smile, but the expression was forced, fragile—a shadow of genuine emotion.
Lorenzo noticed immediately. Of course she did.
She studied Marie's face with that penetrating gaze that seemed to see everything.
Marie shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny. "When do we leave?"
"Four hours,"Lorenzo said quietly. "Based on the scouts' last report, that gives us enough time to prepare without risking Matthew's forces reorganizing effectively."
Marie bit her lip, wrapping her arms around herself against a chill that had nothing to do with the night air. "Is there... is there anything you need me to do? To help prepare?"
Lorenzo's expression shifted.
A slow smirk spread across her face. "I can think of something."