Thanks to Boris Indrikov for
permission to use his exquisite “La Forza”!
Christabel tugged at the
unfamiliar bridal cuffs and sidled away from the celebration to the patio
doors. Waiting for a burst of noise from the crowd, she quickly opened one and
slipped outside, closing it before anyone noticed the cold. She shivered as she
ran through the garden in her sheer dress, laced with ornate ribbons of red and
gold brocade. Stumbling on the small heels and long, curled toes of her
slippers, she cursed her father, her dead mother, the Fates, and above all, the
stranger she would soon call husband.
Needing no more than the moon’s
light to guide her, Christabel dropped to her knees and leaned her head against
the golden statue proudly enthroned within the central gazebo. “La Forza, la
Forza,” she wept, hot bitter tears stinging her cheeks. “I don’t want to leave
you!”
Warm fur brushed her cheek, and
the lion’s mane swept over her back, sheltering her from the winter wind. You never will, child.
She felt the thought like a warm
caress on her cheek. The kind her father had never spared her. Leaning against
the lion’s body, she slid her arms around his neck. “But he wants to take me so
far away! To Venezia!”
The lion chuffed. For a child who
had never ventured farther from Firenze than Siena or Livorno, the northern
shore would seem far indeed. He never moved, yet seemed to press further into
Christabel’s desperate embrace. I will
always be with you, child. It is you who are la Forza.
She sagged against him and wept.
“Christabel!” Part concern, part
rebuke, her name sounded through the gardens, a deep base that wasn’t yet
familiar.
She clung more tightly to the
golden statue. “No! No! La Forza! Please...”
“There you are” A warm blanket
wrapped around her, solid hands settling on her shoulders. “I thought you might
have forgotten a wrap when you stepped outside. The chiding voice remained
light, without the dark warning of her father’s. “The crowd was becoming
stifling.”
He was quiet for a moment. “That’s
an incredible likeness,” he said softly. Christabel looked up with surprise to
find him examining the statue in the moonlight.
“You have seen a lion,” she asked
with disbelief.
He looked down at her and smiled.
“I have indeed. In Rome, and also in Tunis. My business takes me all around the
Mediterranean.”
Her mouth dropped open, and he
laughed, white teeth flashing. He had a nice laugh. Warm. Laughter was rare in
her father’s household since her mother had died. He reached down and tapped
her chin. She snapped her teeth closed, embarrassed. He held out a hand, and
she took it, rising gracefully.
“Perhaps I will take you with me.
Would you like that? Or would you prefer the familiar comforts of home?” He
held her hand formally and began walking back through the gardens. Christabel glanced behind them, but a cloud
covered the moon, and she could not see the lion’s face.
She turned ahead. “I would like to
see the whole world!”
He laughed. “Well then, you shall.
If you like travelling on my ship, that is. Her name is La Forza…”
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Dogs in house
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Houdini, Brindle
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Music
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New Age Relaxation mix on youtube.com
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Time writing
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~40 minutes, including some research
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January word
count
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3,069
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