From Crime To Court

Chapter 7

▪️S E R E N A▪️

I could not seem to still my restless hands.

My fingers had a mind of their own, drawn inexorably to the collar of my tunic. They danced over the fabric, seeking solace in the unfamiliar texture. Each tug and adjustment was a silent indicator of the turmoil brewing within me.

"For the umpteenth time, stop fidgeting with the damn collar!" Niccolo whispered.

Quickly withdrawing my hand, I admitted, "I can't help it, I'm nervous."

Niccolo shot me a sympathetic glance, his green eyes reflecting understanding as he replied, "I can imagine, this is an important occasion, after all."

I nodded, grateful for his reassuring words.

Niccolo was my only friend within the villa, besides old Mrs. Cellini who worked in the kitchens.

From the moment Niccolo and I had first crossed paths in the echoing manor halls, there was an unspoken understanding between us. We were kindred spirits, both driven by a shared aspiration to excel and be the best.

On my first day, after my fight with Paolo, it was Niccolo who extended the olive branch, offering a knowing smile while I struggled with the unfamiliar weight of trying on a full set of armour. As the days turned into weeks, our bond deepened. We spent countless hours side by side, sparring in the courtyard under the watchful eyes of our mentors. Through the sweat and the bruises, our trust in one another grew.

With the evident special treatment that I received from the Marquis, a shift in dynamics became palpable among the other squires. Some were quick to offer flattery and seek my approval, their attempts to curry favour obvious in their words and actions, while others held a touch of envy in their glances.

In the midst of it all, however, Niccolo remained steadfast and unchanged.

He treated me with the same warmth and familiarity as he always had, never allowing the Marquis' attention to alter our dynamic. To me, it was proof of Niccolo's genuine character, a rare gem in a world where loyalties could be swayed by the whims of fortune. He had become my confidant, a reliable ear for my doubts and insecurities. Likewise, I stood by him, offering support and encouragement in moments of his own uncertainty.

Of course, Niccolo had no idea who I truly was and I felt guilty for lying to him.

Despite the genuine connection we had formed over the past few weeks, I kept my secret hidden. It weighed on my conscience every time we spoke, every time he looked at me with those trusting eyes. He had no inkling of my true identity, and I grappled with a sense of remorse for the deception.

The truth was, I had learned that one could not truly know another person.

Time was a demanding judge of character, requiring more than fleeting moments and shared laughter. To truly understand someone's character, to grasp the intricacies of their being, required a depth of time and experience that we had not yet had.

As much as I valued the trust we had built and yearned to confide in Niccolo, I knew better than to think that a few weeks were sufficient to disclose the secret I guarded so fiercely.

With a square of my shoulders, I focused on the night ahead.

It was a very important occasion after all, and throughout the evening, my foremost duty as the Marquis' squire was to attend to his comfort, ensuring he could navigate the festivities with ease and grace. This involved being vigilant, anticipating any need he might have, whether it be a subtle shift in his attire or a request for refreshments.