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“Start?” Sanchia whispered. She tried to sit up before realizing with a surge of panic that she couldn’t move.

She was no longer in the maze but strapped at knees, waist, and shoulders to a hard surface.

She glanced wildly around her but could see only the wooden table to which she was bound.

The aureole of light cast by a torch in Damari’s outstretched hand barely illuminated his face. “Where—”

“In the dungeon.” Damari strolled a few yards from the table and thrust the torch into an iron bracket on the wall. “As is proper for a thief.”

She became chillingly aware of the darkness surrounding her, the odor of the damp earth, the smell of pitch and decay.

“I’m very angry with you, you know.” Damari returned to stand beside her.

“I lost not only Andreas but the Wind Dancer. I sent my men riding after him in all directions but he appears to have vanished. All I have is a slave who will be of absolutely no use in getting either back. Lion obviously cares nothing about whether you live or die or he wouldn’t have sent you to divert me from his escape.

” He frowned. “And my lovely hedge is quite ruined. It will take years to replace it with new growth.”

He seemed more upset by the damage to his shrubbery than by the escape of Lion and Marco, she thought dazedly. “You lie. They wouldn’t have left me.”

“Still loyal? They most certainly did leave you. But what did you expect? You’re property—far less valuable property than the Wind Dancer. You notice he didn’t leave the statue behind. Surely you don’t think he’ll return for you?”

Lion had promised nothing would happen to her. He had vowed she wouldn’t be hurt. She had to believe he’d come back for her or she would be overwhelmed by the terror and despair closing in all around her.

Damari carefully smoothed the hair at her temple. “Poor little slave girl. You’re frightened, aren’t you?”

He wanted her fear; she could see it in his expression. She didn’t answer.

“And you should be.” His fingertips drifted lightly over her cheek, leaving pain in their wake.

Her bruised flesh was exquisitely sensitive.

“I’ll get the Wind Dancer back and I’ll punish Andreas.

It’s only a question of time.” His fingers had reached her hairline and he reversed the direction, retracing the painful caress.

“But I must have some satisfaction to keep me patient.”

Her gaze was fixed in helpless terror on his face. Lion had promised her she wouldn’t be hurt. Lion had promised her.…

“I’ve always believed punishment should fit the crime.

I kept one of Giulia Marzo’s whores here at the palazzo for a number of months.

She quite enjoyed the pain at first, but alas, it didn’t last. She was a pretty little strumpet, though incapable of tolerating more than minor pricks of chastisement.

You can understand how this annoyed me when I had paid such a handsome sum for her.

” His index finger followed the outline of her lower lip.

“So I decided I had a right to compensation. Do you know what I did?”

Sanchia couldn’t speak, her throat was locked with terror as she gazed up into his pale eyes.

“I stripped her naked and sent her into the maze. Then I sent twelve of my men in to find her. Naturally, they expected reward when they ran her down. A whore’s reward.” He shrugged. “She died.”

He was a monster. Sanchia could imagine the horror of that poor, frightened woman running frantically while she was chased by a pack of taunting, savage animals seeking only to rape.

“A fitting death for a whore, don’t you think? But you’re not a whore, you’re a thief.” He lifted her left hand, playing with her fingers. “Tell me, what is the punishment for thieving, Sanchia?”

“Santa Maria …” She didn’t realize she had spoken until she saw him smile again.

“We cut off their hands, don’t we?” he asked softly.

“I think we’ll start with your fingers. One by one.

” He dropped her hand. “And I have a very skilled companion who will know just how to do it. I met Fra Luis when I was campaigning in Spain and persuaded him to come back to Italy with me. He was much favored by Queen Isabella as a torturer, but he realized there would be more opportunity for advancement in my employ.”

Her hands gone. Her worst nightmare—No! This was real. Horribly, hideously real.

She heard the creak of a door beyond her line of vision, and Damari’s gaze lifted. “Oh, there you are, Fra Luis, she’s awake. We can begin.”

Sanchia instinctively began to struggle against the bonds holding her to the table as Fra Luis came to stand beside Damari.

He was dressed in a mud-colored monk’s robe that only enhanced the unhealthy sallowness of his complexion.

His face was full, his lips pouty, and his green eyes coolly objective.

“Greetings, my child.” Fra Luis’s deep voice resonated hollowly in the chamber. “My Lord Damari tells me you have sinned and must be chastised.”

Sanchia shuddered and closed her eyes.

It was going to happen. She was alone and helpless to stop them from torturing her…and cutting off her hands.

Lion had abandoned her.