In the corridor, he encountered Marie.
She looked upset. "My lady, are you well?"
Marie switched to Italian, her voice tight with anger. "Quando avevi intenzione di dirmi tu e il tuo padrone che il mio onore rimane macchiato? Sarò sempre colei che è stata rapita, sverginata e rivendicata, ma mai sarò la moglie che ha sposato!" *(When were you and your master going to tell me that my honor remains tarnished? I will always be she who was kidnapped, deflowered, and claimed, but never will I be the wife he married!)*
Marcello started sweating. "My lady, it was the king's decree—"
Marie walked away, her voice breaking. "I can't believe I ever thought this charade could be true"
After she left, Marcello grabbed Pierro by the collar and yanked him close. "You had one job! Keep her from getting upset!"
Pierro replied in Italian, "Non posso semplicemente tagliare la testa a tutti quelli che dicono stronzate!" *(I cannot just chop off the head of everyone who says shit!)*"Cazzo!" Marcello cursed and smacked the back of Pierro's head. *(Fuck!)*
She walked to her room.
The Italian guards were already positioned outside her door. They opened it for her and closed it after she entered.
***
Bess was waiting inside. She immediately began helping Marie out of her gown, then froze.
"My lady..."Bess's voice was shocked. "Your body..."
Marie looked down at herself. Bruises marked her hips where Lorenzo had gripped her. Faint scratches on her thighs. And the fresh bite mark on her shoulder, still red and angry-looking. "I am fine, Bess."
"That monster—"
"I am tired," Marie interrupted, "of Lorenzo not being straightforward with me. Of withholding information. It is just like when we first met. Once again he is far away, and it seems like he has played me for a fool."
Bess helped Marie into her nightgown and spoke carefully. "My lady, I do not think you should be hasty in your conclusions. He has left you his banner, his men watching over you, his right hand managing his interests here. That shows he is...
Marie climbed into bed. She lay in the darkness of her childhood room, in her childhood bed, with Lorenzo's ring heavy on her finger.
Marie woke in a foul mood. She looked at herself in the mirror as Bess helped her dress. She looked less like the Marie who had grown up in this house and more like Lorenzo's wife. The Italian dresses, the Italian hairstyle, even the way she held herself had changed.
She bit her lip, perplexed.
She had so many questions about men, about marriage, about what was normal and what was not. If she was to beat Lorenzo at his own game, she needed to understand the game a bit more.
At breakfast, her family stood when she entered. She hated this formality, especially from her own family. She ate meagerly, then asked for a private moment with her mother. They retired to the solar, and Marie asked trivial questions at first—about household management, about etiquette she had never bothered to learn before.
Then she took a breath and asked about more intimate matters.
Her mother sat closer. "Bess told me some... rather horrific things. But I believe you may have a different perspective on the matter."
Marie frowned, about to object and call out Bess for speaking out of turn. But her mother stopped her. "Let me know the truth, daughter. Tell me. She thought she was protecting you."
Marie sighed. "He kisses long and intensely. He is quite... handsy when we are alone."
Her mother blushed slightly.
Marie started to rise, embarrassed, but her mother caught her hand. "Enough. You are not a child, and we are both adult women. Speak plainly."
Marie swallowed hard. "He is quite... large. And he becomes aroused easily. When he is aroused, he becomes a little rougher. He often puts me on all fours, and when he is close to climax, he bites me. He only stops when he is finished."
Her mother listened carefully, her expression neutral. "Do you feel safe? With all the scratching and biting?"
Marie replied shyly. "I do not know... yet."
her mother said. Does he finish inside you?"
Marie hesitated. "I think so?"
Her mother looked perplexed. "You should know, Marie. It drips down your leg afterward."
Marie thought back. She had felt wetness on her thighs, especially after that intense encounter in the bath. She nodded, still uncertain but fairly confident now.
"He is clearly thrilled with you," her mother said. "So continue as you are. But make sure you voice discomfort if things ever go too far. A good husband listens."
Marie, feeling oddly serene replied, "How could I continue... he has lied to me so many times."
Lady Boleyn squeezed her hand. "You are his woman now, daughter. You must learn to navigate these things. And know that you can always speak to me."
Marie left the solar feeling less alone. She touched the ring on her finger and wondered what he was doing at that very moment.
A couple of weeks after Marcello returned from court, exhausted from his journey and the political maneuvering, he found himself still having to deal with Philip and Thomas.
Their constant jabbing, their thinly veiled hostility toward Lorenzo and everything Italian, wore on him daily.
Philip would make snide comments at meals: "How is your master? Still too important to visit his own wife?"
Thomas was more calculating, always asking about finances, about Lorenzo's plans, probing for weakness. Marcello maintained his composure, but it was exhausting. Marie, meanwhile, seemed detached from it all.
She moved through her days in a routine, polite but distant.
***
Marie's days were full. Courtiers came to pay their respects to the wife of the Italian prince, to curry favor, to be seen in her presence.
She received them in the garden when the weather was fair, sitting beneath an old oak tree with a book in her lap.
Or she held court in the great hall, seated in a chair that had been positioned to give her prominence, Italian guards standing at attention behind her. Visitors brought gifts, fine fabrics, jewelry, books, wines. They made flattering speeches. They tried to ingratiate themselves.
The guards kept close watch. More than once, they had to physically intervene when someone grew too bold. A young lord who tried to slip Marie a letter declaring his admiration was escorted out roughly.
Another man who held Marie's hand too long when he bowed over it, his thumb stroking her knuckles suggestively, was beaten in the courtyard as a warning to others.
But it was the nights that tortured Marie. She would lie in her bed, trying to sleep, and the memories would come unbidden. Lorenzo's hands on her body. His mouth on her neck, her breasts, between her thighs. The way he had penetrated her in the bath, stretching her from within, filling her completely. The feeling of being taken, possessed, claimed. She often woke in the middle of the night, her body slick with sweat, her thighs wet with arousal. She honestly hated how much she longed for Lorenzo.
Lorenzo threw herself into work, trying to outrun her thoughts and her longing. She visited garrison after garrison, inspecting troops, listening to their needs, checking standards and quality of equipment. She negotiated trade agreements with reluctant merchants. She mediated disputes between noble families who had been feuding for generations. She reviewed maps of the empire's borders, identifying weak points that needed reinforcement. Her days were filled with meetings, inspections, travel. Her nights were spent reviewing reports and correspondence until her eyes burned with fatigue.
One evening, an old acquaintance made her way to Lorenzo's chambers. Clara—a woman Lorenzo had been with before, during lonely nights when lust demanded satisfaction. Clara entered with a knowing smile, her dress cut low, her intentions clear.
Lorenzo stood from her desk. "What are you doing here?"
"I heard you were back,"Clara purred, moving closer. "I thought you might be... lonely."
"I am married," Lorenzo said firmly. "That part of my life is over.
Clara's smile faltered. "Lorenzo...Does she even know who you are? I do and accept you whole heartedly. We can still be together. I want to be with you ...even as your mistress."
Lorenzo reached into her desk and produced a letter. She pressed it into Clara's hand. "Take this. It is a property and money enough to live a happy and easy life. Free of the need to be wed. Thank you for all you have been to me."
Clara left looking both offended and confused.
How did Lorenzo change in such a short amount of time.
Did she really fall in love and move on so easily.
Did she even mean anything to Lorenzo.