Page 12 of Broken Crown

Beyond uncomfortable, I shifted my stance and hissed as my foot scraped a sharp rock.

Sebastian turned and immediately cursed soft and low, sweeping me into his arms.

Arcangelo's brow furrowed as he shoved the guards aside and rushed to open the door. "Here. You know the way to my private apartments."

Sebastian pressed his lips to my temple. "Just a little further, baby."

He carried me down a dimly lit stone corridor, and two additional guards rushed to open a pair of double doors.

My mouth dropped open.

We entered the Sala delle Arti Liberali, one of the six rooms making up the Borgia Apartments.

Overhead, gold-leafed patterns that glimmered in the fading light adorned the vaulted ceiling. Pinturicchio's breathtaking frescoes, commissioned by Pope Alexander VI, the notorious Borgia pope in the fifteenth century, covered the walls.

Each scene depicted one of the seven liberal arts in lush, vibrant detail.

Fiery-haired women representing grammar, rhetoric, and astronomy gazed down at us from their thrones, surrounded by Renaissance nobles in sumptuous attire.

The air smelled of beeswax and centuries of incense.

We weren't just in the Vatican.

We were in the notorious Borgia Apartments.

Tourists weren't allowed here, but I'd admired the stunning frescoes in the guidebook while touring the Vatican last week.

Just another not-so-subtle reminder of the power of the Diamantis.

Not even God's house was beyond their reach.

I shivered.

Sebastian lowered me to the floor and rubbed my upper arms, misunderstanding my body's response. "Let's get you in a nice, hot bath."

He tried to wrap an arm around my shoulder, but I shrugged him off.

Hugging my middle, I kept my head lowered. "Can you just show me where?"

A tense pause stretched uncomfortably long.

I held my breath, my lungs screaming.

Finally, he nodded. "Down the hall to the right. I'll arrange for a doctor and a change of clothes."

"I don't need a doctor."

"It wasn't a request, Sabrina. If I want you to see a doctor, then you'll see a doctor."

Sore, frightened, and confused, I was spoiling for a fight. A release. Anything to break the strange tension.

"You know what, Sebastian? I don't give a damn what you want."

He stepped forward.

I fell back.

He kept prowling forward until my body pressed against one of those priceless frescoes I'd admired.