Page 19 of The Truth About Myths
His face contorted in a mask of anger. He grabbed Carlota's arm and shoved her to the floor.
Carlota fell to her knees, sobs racking her torso.
"You stinking animal!" Isabel screamed. "Maldito,desgraçado!” Words that would shame a dockside worker spilled from her mouth until her throat ached.
"I teach you to curse, whore."
The man lifted a club-like arm above her head. Isabel's breath caught, and she scrunched her shoulders.
His hand descended on her. Before the blow connected, he was flung backward. From the blur of shadows and limbs emerged Viscount Penafiel. Isabel staggered back from the melee. The viscount punched the drunkard's face. His devil-may-care insolence slipped, exposing a swarthy stranger, his shirtsleeves doing a poor job of concealing menacing muscles.
Panting, she cradled her cheeks to reassure herself she still had all her teeth. The bedroom swam before her vision, and she watched the fight with a sense of detachment. All of a sudden, it seemed to her that Viscount Penafiel understood a thing or two about handling a crisis. His fists were quite... diplomatic. Perhaps she had been too hasty in condemning her brother's choice.
The viscount's white teeth flashed against his bronzed skin. "Your Highness, please lead the lady from here. The chat I'm about to have is inappropriate for women."
Chapter 7
"Flaming summer charms the earth with its own fluting, and under leaves the cicada scrapes its tiny wings together and incessantly pours out full shrill song."Sappho
Henriquethankedthetavernserver and swallowed the port. A second more, and the princess, his friend's sister, would have sported bruises on her royal face—a purple testimony to his lack of care. He stared at the swirling liquid until his vision blurred. What in Dante's many hells was she doing in that room?
Henrique would have better luck solving the Riemann Hypothesis than understanding his meddling princess. One moment, she disparaged the woman for dancing too close to her partner. In the next, she turned her cheek to receive a blow in the woman's place.
The door swung open. Dio strolled inside as if presenting himself to court, his posture erect and his face impassive. A challenging undertaking with his coat wrinkled and splattered by blood and his curly hair sticking out of his head like a magpie's nest.
Henrique kicked a chair for him to sit. "And?"
"I've locked the fellow in his room. The hotel clerk will release him in the morning after we leave. It's not as if he could compose a pastoral and break out into verses. Your goodnight swing put him to sleep."
Henrique gripped the stem of his glass. "And the princess?"
"The pretty maid wouldn't let me inside the chamber. She informed me Isabel was resting and in perfect health."
Henrique exhaled heavily and leaned back in the chair. The movement upset his sore shoulder, and he winced.
Dio eyed his bloodied knuckles. "Shouldn't you clean your battle wounds?"
"It's nothing. You know her better than I do. Why was she there?"
"Maybe she does it for sport. Who knows, you could've interrupted the performance of a pugilist."
Dio laughed at his own joke, and Henrique glowered at him. He usually went along with his friend's ability to find humor in the most gruesome of situations, but tonight, he had no stomach for it.
"I'm serious."
"Look, she might or might not be the adopted little sister I grew up with, and you might or might not be the much older brother figure who gave me liquor and the odd aphrodisiac, but it does not mean I will carry tales back and forth between you two."
"I'm only four years older than you."
"If you say so." Dio's chuckles dwindled to a stop, his gaze turning serious. "Talking about performances… You should have told me you embraced the hero's quest. I would’ve come to your first battle. Instead of Hercules defeating the Nemean Lion, we had Henrique beating up the Copa's drunk."
Henrique pushed the glass away and crossed his arms. "Leave it be."
Dio lifted a brow. "Seriously, though. If you had invited the chap for a drink, told a joke to dispel the gloominess… Violence is not your style."
Indeed, it wasn't. But when he saw the swine about to hit Isabel, he became a savage. Luckily, Dio had arrived before he could do more damage.
"Good night." Henrique grabbed the bottle and stood, leaving behind the tavern and Dio's unwelcome questions.
