My silence seemed to provoke the Madre. She closed in, her voice a low hiss. “Alessia, you’ve been married into this family for five years, and your womb has been empty. Now that we finally have someone to continue our bloodline, don’t tell me you can’t even part with a damn animal?”
“She is carrying our bloodline, risking her life for it. And you? You’ve given this family nothing but five empty years.”
“I don’t care what that soldier father of yours taught you. Here, a woman’s worth is measured by the sons she can bear.”
I stared at the horse, remembering my wedding night when Caius had gently kissed my wrist.
He had told me that in the Falcieri family, a prized horse was the most noble of gifts, a promise that this mare would witness our love.
Now, she was a prize for another woman.
“She’s a gentle horse,” I said, my voice so calm it surprised even me. “Better suited for someone who needs to rest.”
My composure seemed to unnerve Caius more than any angry outburst would have. He opened his mouth, but no words came out.
That night, he came back to our bedroom.
It was the first time in three months.
The air in the room was cold and heavy.
“Alessia,” he began, approaching me from behind, trying to embrace me. “I know you’re angry. But Livia’s situation is delicate, and the Madre…”
I didn’t move.
“I’ll build you a new stable,” he rushed to say, his voice pleading. “Ten times bigger, filled with champions. Just… be patient a little longer. For the family. For me.”
He reached out to pull me into his arms.
But a mixture of scents on his clothes made me freeze.
It was stable hay and the whiskey on his breath. But underneath it all, something else: the cloying sweetness of gardenias.
Livia’s perfume.
I fought the wave of nausea, my brow furrowing.
For the first time, the very air around him made me sick.
