My heart pumped the blood around my veins like a red rapid. “But she is a duchessa,” I said. “Her father will not allow our marriage. He will not accept us. She is a blue blood. She is different from me in every way.”
Zia Noelia’s face tightened. “Last time I checked, you were a prince of Italy. You are a Savona just as much as Zeno. Your blood runs blue too.”
I stared at my aunt, and she stared back, never breaking my gaze. “Zeno won’t . . . he didn’t want to know or accept—”
“Forget Zeno!” she argued. “If he doesn’t want to believe the truth about you, who cares? The king wanted to acknowledge you as his own, Achille. He wanted you as his son, but he let others rob you of your rightful title. Do not rob yourself of your birthright. Not if it means you get to keep your duchessa. Forget those who hate, forget those who do not think you belong. If your Caresa is worth fighting for, then fight.”
“I do not know the first thing about being a . . . a prince.”
“Carino.” My aunt put her hand on my face. “The very fact that you believe you will not be a good prince will be the very thing that ensures you are. You sell yourself short, Achille. You are meant for more than what life has awarded you. So take it. Grab it with both hands and never let go.”
My body shook with the adrenaline rushing through me and igniting my every cell. “Okay,” I finally said and jumped to my feet. I ran my hands through my hair as I tried to calm myself down.
I needed to go home.
I needed my Caresa.
I leaned down and pressed a kiss to my aunt’s cheek. “Thank you,” I said and rushed toward the house.
“He loved you, you know.”
I stopped dead in my tracks and turned around. “The late king,” Zia Noelia said softly. “He didn’t do the right thing by hiding you away, but he loved you. He adored your mother, and in the end, he had a healthy respect for your father. Benito, Santo and Abrielle’s tragic love story was complex and intense. It was filled with love—a messy kind of love—but love nonetheless. I just want you to know that whether you see yourself as a Marchesi or a Savona, you were born from such a deep love. Three hearts from very different backgrounds were broken along the way, some beyond repair. But the light in all of their suffering was you. Never forget that, carino. Remember that as you take your rightful place as a royal of our country. You were a blessing to them all.” She smiled a watery smile. “And you will be just as much a blessing to her.” She shrugged. “It’s funny how history repeats itself. A Marchesi, a Savona and a girl. Curious, no? Just make sure you are the one to win this time, whatever that victory looks like.”
“I love you,” I whispered, her words dissolving any anger I had left within me. Zia Noelia picked up the wineglass and brought it to her lips. She turned away to stare out across the lake at the last rays of sun.
I ran to my room and grabbed my things. Five minutes later, with the stars appearing in the night sky to guide me home, I was in my papa’s car, rushing home to win back my split-apart.
She was the prize.
I would make sure I was the victor.
*****
It took me a day to get home. I had only stopped once to catch some sleep. I slept in the car. It was cold and uncomfortable, but I didn’t want to waste time finding a hotel and checking in, only to leave after a few hours. I drove all through the night, and now, as I made my way toward a familiar back road, night was falling again. I passed though the back gate of the Bella Collina estate. As soon as I entered, a sense of peace settled over me.
I was home.
As I passed by the mansion in the distance, this time I truly looked at it. I remembered the golds and the reds and the expensive furnishings. But I refused to let it intimidate me. I was done with feeling inferior. Like my aunt had said, part of me lived in that house, part of who I truly was. The cottage would always be my home—just like my father would always be Benito Marchesi. But I had to accept that there were others who had made me who I was too. Santo Savona’s blood ran in my veins. I was a product of two very different worlds.
And I simply had to get used to the fact.
Five minutes later I arrived at my cottage. As I drove the car into the garage and killed the engine, I took a deep breath. You can do this, I said to myself. You must do this for her.
I got out of the car and grabbed my bag. I walked around to my cottage and opened the front door. For a moment, I expected Caresa to walk out of my bedroom, smiling and throwing herself into my arms. But the house was still and cold.
There was no warmth without her anymore.
I dropped my bag on the hard floor and moved into my bedroom. My heart melted when I saw that it had been cleaned. There was no evidence that a fight had ever broken out.
I sat on the bed and reached into my coat pocket. My fingers immediately found my father’s letter. I pulled it out and opened the drawer of the nightstand. I slipped the letter inside, the pages still rumpled from Zeno’s savage touch and stained with my blood. And then I shut the drawer, sealing it inside. I would always treasure the final words from my father, but I didn’t need to read that letter anymore. I had the information he so wanted to give.
It was done.
I had to move on.
I stayed in that spot, just gathering my composure, for several minutes. Eventually, I got to my feet, left my house and walked toward the barn. The sound of Nico and Rosa in their stables greeted me. I went in to them, both of them immediately coming to see me. I patted them both, seeing that they had been cared for in my absence. I’d hoped Sebastian would have stopped by—it looked as if he had. I had no idea how I would explain my absence to him.
After staying with the horses for a while, I made my way to the barn. I had bottling to do. I was a week overdue. I threw the doors back and flicked on the light . . .
. . . and then I froze. Completely froze.
I cast my eyes along all of the freshly sanitized barrels, stacked and ready for the next harvest. To the right were shelves and shelves of bottled wine, this year’s vintage. I moved closer; the labels had been placed perfectly on each bottle. They were corked and they were done.
I stood back, wondering who had done this.
“She has been here every day since you left.”
My back tensed as Zeno’s rough timbre met my ears. I tried to control my breathing, readying for another fight. And then I spun around to see my . . . my . . . brother, resting against the doorframe. He was wrapped up in a long, thick coat, a scarf around his neck and gloves on his hands. The snow fell in small flakes behind him.
He looked tired. His hair was in disarray, and he was pale.
Yet as I studied his expression, he didn’t seem angry or upset that I had returned. In fact, if I had judged his features correctly, he appeared . . . relieved.
“Where is she?” I asked, my voice just as rough as his.
Zeno stepped closer and ran a hand down his face. “She is in Parma. Her parents arrived early for the wedding, and her mother took her home to try and make things better. They know everything. When it all came out, Caresa fell apart. She’s . . .” He paused, making my heart slam in my chest. “Not doing so well.” Zeno stopped in front of me. I allowed myself to truly look at him. Look at his eyes, his nose, his height. And it was there. Our fraternal truth that had been hiding in plain sight.
I could see he was doing the same. When our eyes met again, he broke from my gaze and gestured to the seats in front of the unlit fire. “Do you mind if we sit?”
“You’re not throwing me off the land?” I asked, waiting for this too-timid reunion to fall apart.
He shook his head and laughed a humorless laugh. “No. Now, shall we?”
He walked to the seats and sat down. I cautiously made my way over and took my seat beside him. I wondered if I should start the fire, but I was too worked up. I didn’t know what he wanted, or . . . “How did you know I was here?”
“I had security on alert for your return. I knew you’d come through the rear private entrance,” he said.
“How did you know I would return?”
Zeno looked me square in the eye. “Because she is here.”
“Yet now I find she’s in Parma,” I said.