His Sword

by Holly Hart

  Isabella’s eyes flash and she levels a warning finger at her son.

  “Don’t say a word,” she says coldly.

  Meanwhile, Huber looks like he’s swallowed a bug.

  “This – this is government business,” he stammers. “Private business between me and the duchess.”

  Dante ignores them. “We’ll get you some help,” he says to Emilio.

  “I don’t deserve it,” Emilio moans. “It was me. I set you up.”

  Oh my God. Dante and I exchange a look – that explains it. It explains everything.

  “But why, Emilio?” I ask.

  “Not one word!” Isabella cries, panic written across her face.

  “She made me,” he mumbles.

  Dante rounds on his aunt. Her eyes go wide.

  “He’s drunk, obviously – ”

  “Shut up,” Dante growls. “I should have known it was you.”

  “How did she make you?” I ask. “Did she threaten you?”

  “So sorry,” he says. “I screwed up so bad…”

  “It’s nothing we can’t get past,” I say. “We’ll figure it out.”

  “S’all gone…”

  Dante puts a hand on his shoulder. “What’s all gone?”

  “Steiger money… pissed it all away…”

  Tears are streaming down Emilio’s grubby face, leaving streaks in his skin. Isabella’s eyes are wide with horror – not at the state he’s in, but the fact he’s confessing. What kind of a monster is she?

  “This, uh, obviously, uh, comes as a shock,” Huber says.

  “Cut the shit, Julian!” Dante barks. “I know you were the one who leaked the photos to Lorenzo. It had to be you, Isabella doesn’t know anyone in the media.”

  Dante turns to Isabella. “I’ve wondered for years whether there was anything left of your money. Emilio’s always been a high roller, but I never knew it was that bad.”

  “This is sick,” I say. “Instead of getting him help, you blackmail him into hatching a scheme to replace Dante as monarch? And steal the Trentini fortune for yourself?”

  Isabella’s face turns to stone, but her eyes are still blazing.

  “I’m not saying another word,” she says.

  “What about you?” I say to Huber. “Got anything else to say?”

  He doesn’t. His eyes dart around the room as if looking for an exit.

  “Darling,” I say.

  “Yes, my love?”

  “Where I come from in America, conspiring to overthrow the government is considered treason. What’s the deal here in Morova?”

  “Mmm,” he says. “Unfortunately, I’m not the government. But I don’t imagine the good people of my homeland would take kindly to learning Julian here colluded with Isabella to replace the rightful heir.”

  That gets a rise out of the old bastard. He steels his fleshy jowls and looks us in the eye.

  “You can’t prove anything,” he says. “And the referendum starts in an hour.”

  I look over to see Isabella grinning smugly. Emilio is weeping openly now.

  “We need to get Emilio to a hospital,” Dante says. “But as soon as he’s taken care of, I swear I’ll do everything in my power to see you two in court over this. I don’t care if it takes every penny of my personal fortune, you’re not going to get away with this.”

  “We’ll see,” says Huber. “I’ll be sure to discuss it with the chief justice while he’s at my home for dinner on Sunday.”

  Dante gives them one last round of dirty looks before picking Emilio up under the arm and helping him back to the opening in the curtain.

  “This is why we need to fight,” he says as we emerge onto the stage. “I won’t leave my homeland in the hands of these parasites.”

  “Uh, Dante,” I say.

  “We can’t allow corruption like this to drag down Morova!” he says, more to Emilio than me.

  “Dante.” I say again.

  He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, darling, what is it?”

  I point towards the edge of the stage. He turns his head to see what I see: dozens of people, staring at us with their eyes wide and their mouths hanging open.

  At the front of the pack is Lorenzo Ricci, now a whole new shade of green.

  “What’s going on?” I ask, looking for our friends.

  “Ho-lee sheep shit!” my father hoots as he bounds up the stairs and onto the stage. Maria is close behind, with Carlo bringing up the rear a bit more slowly. Their eyes are dancing.

  “What’s going on?” Dante asks, eyes darting around the room.

  Dad looks over to Ricci.

  “Why don’t you tell ‘em, you little peckerhead?”

  “The, uh. The lapel microphones,” Ricci says, staring blankly ahead. “They were. Uh. They were. Live.”

  Dante and I look at each other, eyes wide, as it sinks in.

  “We heard every word,” Maria says through a triumphant smile. “So did viewers all around the world. Every. Single. Word.”

  “That’s what you all were looking at before we went backstage!” I say.

  Carlo nods. “The talking heads were doing their analysis – you two were on the receiving end of some very unflattering words, I must say – but the audio kept cutting to your microphones.”

  Dante looks at Emilio, then back to Carlo.

  “You heard… everything, then?”

  “I’m afraid so, sir.”

  Dante helps Emilio into a chair. His cousin is almost on the verge of passing out.

  “Maria – ”

  “I’ll have an ambulance here as soon as possible.”

  Dante smiles. “What would I do without you?”

  “Let’s hope you never have to find out.”

  There are dozens of people milling around now, trying to make sense of what’s going on. As they do, Dad emerges from behind the stage curtain.

  “I was gonna go pay my respects to Isabella,” he says. “By which I mean laugh in her face. But she’s gone. So’s Huber.”

  “I doubt they’ll get far,” I say.

  “It’s like you’re psychic,” Maria says, turning her iPad screen towards me. On it is an image of the duchess and the chancellor, ambushed by media in the alley behind the building.

  Dante looks at me and smiles.

  “Remember how not that long ago, all we could talk about was how crazy our lives were?” he asks.

  “Yup,” I say. “Apparently the universe took that as a sign to roll up its sleeves and say ‘here, hold my beer while I screw with them a little more.’”

  I feel a weight on my shoulders as Dad wraps an arm around each of us.

  “You two really need to start bein’ normal,” he says.

  “We were just talking about that,” says Dante. “But before we do, we’re going to have to sit around for a few hours while the entire population decides what it’s going to do about us.”

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  57. AMANDA

  “Careful,” Dante says to Carlo. “I’ve told you before that it’s within my powers to have your head chopped off.”

  “I swear on my honor, sir,” Carlo replies, hand raised as if taking an oath. “I am not fucking with you.”

  It seems like a dream, especially considering the nightmare of the past few weeks.

  “That has to be a first,” I say, looking at the iPad Carlo brought into Maria’s office. He has a direct pipeline to the Office of the Elector, and got the results hot off the press.

  “I mean, have any of you ever heard of a referendum getting one hundred percent agreement on anything? It’s hard enough to get a dozen jurors to agree unanimously, let alone 30,000 Morovans.”

  “Social media exploded after the hot microphone incident,” says Maria, pointing to the screen on the wall. “Hashtag ‘hubergate’ started trending within seconds of him and Isabella being ambushed in the alley.”

  “And my sources inside the council say many of them have been waiting for an opportunity to get rid
of the chancellor and his cronies,” says Carlo.

  I look at Dante. “Apparently, being honest was the right thing to do.”

  “Who would have imagined?” he says with a grin. “A royal being rewarded for being straightforward with his people. It boggles the mind.”

  Dad finishes his bottle of Budweiser and puts the empty on the table beside him.

  “So what the hell is a hashtag, anyway?” he asks. “Where I come from, hash is somethin’ you eat with your eggs, and a tag goes in a cow’s ear.”

  As Maria attempts to explain social media to Ike, I take Dante’s hand and lead him out into the hallway. He pulls me close until our foreheads touch.

  “This has been quite a day,” he says. “I keep expecting to wake up and discover it was all a dream.”

  “So do I.”

  He kisses me, prompting a flutter of butterflies in my belly.

  “That felt pretty real to me,” he says.

  I tilt my head so my lips are at his ear.

  “If that felt real, imagine how real this will feel.”

  I reach out and squeeze his cock through his pants, and it jumps at my touch.

  “Don’t tease me,” he breathes. “It’s been too long.”

  “So who’s teasing?” I whisper back.

  One of the many, many benefits of living in a palace is that there’s always a room around when you need one.

  My back is against the stone wall of a sitting room a couple of hallways away from Maria’s office. The furniture is mid-seventeenth century, with a mirror motif on the walls. That means I can see us making out from half a dozen different angles. And it’s making me horny as hell.

  Dante’s hands explore under my blouse as his lips probe my neck. My hand manages to free his cock through his zipper, putting it on display in all the different mirrors. There’s something incredibly hot about seeing your husband’s throbbing shaft from so many different angles at once.

  “I missed you so much,” I breathe in his ear. “All those nights in separate beds.”

  “It was torture,” he says. “Being so close but not able to touch you.”

  His hands tug my blouse free and open the buttons. I use my own hand to unhook my bra and slide out of it. Suddenly two dozen tits are on display in the mirrors.

  Dante’s mouth closes over my nipple instantly, licking and sucking greedily. My heart rate seems to double as I feel the familiar pooling of sensations between my legs. God, how could I have gone so long without knowing this pure joy? I have so much time to make up for.

  His steel shaft throbs in time with each stroke of my hand, his skin hot to the touch. With each tug, he moans more loudly against my breasts. His tongue seems to gain urgency from his cock, because soon I’m holding onto his neck as my first orgasm sweeps over me.

  “How can you do that so easily?” I pant as the aftershocks finally subside. “You didn’t even touch me down there…”

  “I’ll take that as an invitation,” he says, grabbing my ass and lifting me onto a flat settee that probably dates to the time of Louis XXIV. With another swift move, he’s pulled off my skirt and panties, leaving my slick opening exposed to him.

  “Oh, Dante,” I breathe. “My prince.”

  He’s just as deft with his own clothes; a few quick moves and he’s naked. I admire his chiseled body from every angle in the mirrors. It’s like looking at a photographic study of an ancient Roman statue.

  It also drives my desire to the point of no return.

  “Hurry,” I whisper urgently, pulling him down to me. “I need you inside me now.”

  He obliges, dropping to his knees on top of me. I grab his cock once more and guide it towards my opening. I slide the tip back and forth inside my lips, getting us both ready for the plunge.

  “I can’t wait anymore,” he moans as he pushes all the way inside.

  It’s as if a live electrical circuit has been turned on deep inside my body. His first thrust is enough to bring on the delicious heat that emanates from my center all the way through my body.

  Dante starts out slow, deliberate, ending each stroke with a kiss on my eager lips. But we both know that neither of us can last much longer.

  “God, I love you,” I whisper as he doubles the speed of his thrusts. “I want it to be like this every time.”

  He props himself on his hands as I wrap my legs around his waist. He doubles his speed again, until he’s thrusting so fast I can barely keep up with my hips. I bite my bottom lip, waiting for the tsunami of pleasure that’s about to hit.

  “Amanda,” he pants. “Oh, my love. Everything I have is yours.”

  “Give it to me,” I say, feeling my body on the point of release. “Give it all to me.”

  One last lift of his hips and we both begin to tremble. I feel his muscles tense against my skin as his eruption fills me with warmth. I ride my own wave by burying my face in his shoulder, whimpering in ecstasy.

  We lie there, skin to skin, sweat to sweat, breathing in each other’s exhaled breaths, until our hearts finally slow and resume their normal pace.

  “God, I just want to do that all the time,” I say.

  “Be careful what you wish for,” he says. “There are over 200 rooms in this palace.”

  I giggle as he gently kisses my throat.

  “Did we really win?” I ask. “When we walk out of here, are we really free to just live our lives?”

  “Yes,” he says. “At least as free as we can be while ‘Amandante’ is still a thing.”

  “I love that word. It’s the two of us coming together. Just like now.”

  He looks at me with feigned shock. “Your Highness,” he says. “That’s no way for a princess to talk.”

  “Stick around, Prince Charming,” I say, pulling him to me again. “I’ll teach you all sorts of words you’ll never hear in a Disney movie.”

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  58. DANTE

  The palace’s south terrace is a great spot to eat lunch: it has the best view of the lake, and the stone helps catch the sun’s heat and radiate it back, which is perfect for cooler days like today.

  Emilio sips his coffee, silently staring out at the lake and the Morovan shoreline beyond.

  “Penny for your thoughts,” Amanda says.

  He turns toward us with a half-smile. He’s looking much better these days.

  “One of the things they tell us to do in the program is to make amends with the people we’ve hurt along the way,” he says. “I was thinking about how I would broach that subject with you two. An apology just doesn’t seem like enough.”

  “It’s enough,” I say.

  “I suppose it has to be. There’s nothing I could possibly do to balance the scales. I almost ruined your life.” He looks to Amanda. “Both your lives.”

  “You already balanced them,” I say. “The day of the referendum. If you hadn’t showed up when you did, I don’t know what might have happened.”

  “Showed up drunk out of my mind,” he says ruefully.

  “You weren’t yourself,” says Amanda. “If it wasn’t for your mother, none of it would have happened.”

  “Maybe,” he says. “But if it weren’t for me losing all our money and falling into the bottle, she might not have felt the need to do it.”

  “You don’t honestly believe that,” I say.

  He sighs. “I suppose not. But she is my mother; I have to try to be kind.”

  “Have you heard from her?” Amanda asks.

  “She’s staying with a cousin in Lichtenstein. Even though she’s technically not in exile, I doubt we’ll ever see her set foot in Morova again. She’s too embarrassed.”

  The three of us look out at the lake for several moments, just soaking up the late summer sun. It won’t be long before it will be too cold to eat outside.

  “Can I tell you two something?” Emilio asks.

  “Of course,” says Amanda. “Anything.”

  “I had a feeling about you two,” he says with a s
mile. “That day when Dante came crashing into you outside his office.”

  I give him a sidelong look. “You did not.”

  “I did,” he says, nodding. “There was something there. I could see it in your eyes. Both of you.”

  Amanda takes my hand.

  “I knew it. You couldn’t resist my cowgirl charms.”

  “I admit it,” I say. “I looked at you and said to myself, she’s the one – ”

  Amanda smiles shyly.

  “ – to clean out the palace stables. They were filthy.”

  Emilio chuckles as Amanda wallops me on the shoulder.

  “I knew I was right,” he says. “That’s a win for me, and God knows I can use as many as I can get right now.”

  “You were right,” says Amanda, toasting him with her coffee. “To Emilio being right.”

  “To being right,” I say, lifting my own cup.

  “You shouldn’t bother them,” I hear Oriana say behind us.

  “I just have a question,” says Vito. “They’re not even talking anymore.”

  Emilio smiles as the twins approach the table. Amanda and I turn to greet them.

  “What are you two on about now?” Amanda asks, pulling Oriana into her lap.

  “I just want to know if I can ask Nonno for a belt buckle like his when we go,” says Vito.

  “I told him he can’t,” says Oriana.

  “For any particular reason?” I ask. “Or just because you always have to say the opposite of what he says?”

  Amanda giggles as Oriana shakes her little fist at me.

  “I’m afraid she’s right, honey,” Amanda says to Vito. “You have to win a buckle like his in the rodeo.”

  His eyes light up. “Can I rodeo when we visit?”

  “I think we can get you started, at least,” she says with a grin.

  “When do you leave?” Emilio asks.

  “In four days!” the twins answer together.

  “You’re more than welcome to join us,” says Amanda. “Dad’s got a pull-out couch.”

  The image of Emilio sleeping on a sofa is enough to make me have to stifle a laugh.

  “I appreciate the invitation, but I don’t think that would be a good idea,” he says. “I’m not exactly in your father’s good books, I think.”