Lair of the Lion

Chapter One
    The wind was shrieking through the narrow pass, bitter and cold, piercing right through her well-worn cape. Isabella Vernaducci pulled the long fur-lined cape closer around her shivering body and glanced anxiously at the high cliffs rising sharply overhead on either side. It was no wonder the don's army had never been defeated in battle. It was impossible to scale those terrible cliffs that rose straight up into air, like towers reaching to the clouds.
    There was a shadow lurking within Isabella, an impression of danger. It had been growing steadily stronger in the last few hours as she traveled. She ducked her head into the horse's mane in an attempt to gain some relief from the unrelenting wind. Her guide had deserted her hours earlier, leaving her to find her own way along the narrow, twisting trail.
    Her horse was nervous, tossing its head and jumping skittishly from side to side, showing every sign it wanted to bolt as well. She had the sensation that something was pacing along beside them, just out of sight. She could hear an occasional grunt, almost like a cough—a strange noise she'd never heard before.
    Isabella leaned forward, whispering softly, soothingly into the ears of her mount. Her mare was used to her, trusted her, and, although its great body was trembling, the animal made a valiant effort to continue forward. Icy particles stung both horse and rider, like angry bees piercing flesh. The horse shuddered and danced but moved stoically forward.
    She had been warned repeatedly of the danger, of the wild beasts roaming freely in the Alps, but she had no choice. Somewhere up ahead of her was the only man who might save her brother. She had sacrificed all to get here, and she would not turn back now. She had sold everything she had of value to find this man, had given what remained of her money to the guide, and had gone the last two days without food or sleep. Nothing mattered but that she find the don. She had nowhere else to go—she had to find him and be granted an audience with him, no matter how elusive, no matter how dangerous and powerful he was.
    His own people, so loyal they refused to help her, had warned her to stay away. His lands were enormous, his holdings vast. Villages and townships whispered of him, the man they looked to for protection, the one they feared above all others. His reputation was legend.
    And lethal. It was said he was untouchable. Armies attempting to march into his holdings had been buried by snow or rock slides. His enemies died swift and brutal deaths. Isabella had persisted despite all warnings, all accidents, the weather, every obstacle. She would not turn back no matter how the voices in the wind howled at her, no matter how icy the storm.
    She would see him.
    Isabella glared up at the sky. "I will find you. I will see you," she declared firmly, a challenge of her own. "I am a Vernaducci. We do not turn back!" It was silly, but she felt convinced that somehow the owner of the great palazzo was commanding the very weather, throwing obstacles into her path.
    A noise like grating rock captured her attention, and, frowning, she swung her head around to look up at one steep slope. Pebbles were bouncing down the mountain, picking up speed, dislodging other rocks. Her horse leapt forward, squealing in alarm as a shower of debris pelted them from above. She heard the chink of the horse's hooves as it scrambled for purchase, felt the great muscles bunching under her as the animal fought to stay on its feet amidst the rolling rocks. Isabella's fingers were nearly numb as she gripped the reins. She couldn't lose her seat! She would never survive the bitter cold and the wolf packs that roamed freely through the territory. Her horse crow-hopped, stiff-legged, each movement jarring Isabella until even her teeth ached from the impact.
    It was desperation more than expertise that kept her in the saddle. The wind lashed at her face, and tears were torn out of the comers of her eyes. Her tightly braided hair was whipped into a frenzy of long, silken strands, pried loose by the fury of the coming storm.
    Isabella kicked her mare hard, urging it forward, wanting to be out of the pass. Winter was fast approaching, and with it would come heavier snowfalls. A few more days and she never would have made it through the narrow pass.
    Shivering, teeth chattering, she urged the horse along the winding trail. Once she was out of the pass, the rising mountain on her left side