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“L ysander!” I rushed into his embrace. “Oh, Lysander!”

His dear arms enclosed me. He kissed the top of my head, pressed his cheek to his kiss, gasped and trembled.

“People were looking up at the tower. I looked up, too. I saw you dangling, struggling to get your arms over the railing. I couldn’t believe .

. . but my heart assured me there could be no mistake.

It was you. We could see a man staggering about, trying to push you, but it looked as if . . .”

“As if what?” I choked out the question.

“As if he was being hit by lightning!”

“Is that what it looked like?” Elder asked.

Lysander bent his head close to my ear and spoke softly. “I doubted you before, but now I must ask—was that Prince Escalus the elder to your rescue?”

“The boy’s not an idiot,” Elder said in approval. “He’d be a worthy . . . No, wait. I don’t mean that.”

If I wasn’t already so wretchedly confused, I would have grinned at his clumsy about-turn.

“At the point at which you were about to lift yourself to safety, we shouted ‘huzzah’ for you.” Lysander’s voice sounded as if he was trying to cheer me. “On the street, over and over, ‘Huzzah! Huzzah!’ For you, my darling. Did you hear us?”

I shook my head. I’d known of the shouts below, but it had been the twin roars of fear and hope I’d truly heard.

“The man—it was Barnadine, was it not?”

“Good guess, since his corpse is there.” Elder could apparently only be pleasant for a few continuous moments.

“Barnadine leaned over you—I thought he would hurl you and himself down, but then like a whirlwind, Prince Escalus leaped, knocked him down, and you fell . . .”

“We know what happened,” Elder told him. “We saw it from up here.”

Yes, and the recitation reminded and chilled me.

“I thought—” Lysander tightened his grip, and in a broken voice, he murmured, “My love, my love.”

Emotion overwhelmed me. Tears started, and I sobbed aloud.

“Pull yourself together, woman!” Elder sounded disgusted.

Lysander loosened his grip. “I shouldn’t hug you. I saw how hard you hit. You’re injured.”

I choked back sobs. “I’m fine.” I wasn’t, but crying made all the bruises feel worse. “What . . . Why . . . How did you get here?”

“From below, we could see two men fighting, the friar holding you, you holding on.”

I moaned, “Sweet Mary, the view up my dress!”

“Woman, that’s not important. What’s important is—what are you going to do? Anyway, I told you, you have nice ankles.” Elder seemed to think he had comforted me.

Lysander spoke over the top of him. “Comfort yourself. The tower is offset from the street. We could see nothing but your ankles and, when the shoe fell, your foot.”

“My attractive ankles.” In misplaced humor, I murmured, “At least it wasn’t my nice tette .”

Lysander leaned closer. “What?”

“Nothing. How did you find me?” I asked again.

“I watched those men lift you, saw how valiantly you struggled to pull yourself back onto the balcony, and when I knew you would survive your ordeal, I ran to the palace doors and demanded entrance. The guards would have none of it, and others from the street followed me, wanting a front-row seat to the finale of the drama they had witnessed. I had no chance. No chance to reach you, and I frantically called your name. Suddenly Prince Escalus stood there. He beckoned me, the guards allowed me in, and he told me to go to you, with his blessing.”

“Oh.” Inadequate. “He . . . did that.”

“I ran for the stairway, up to this place where I knew you were and . . . Rosie, you’re injured!”

“Yes.” I pressed the side of my belly.

“ Mi amore, you’re bleeding!”

“No. What? Where?” I looked at my hands, scraped by the stone on the railing, my arms. I touched my face.

With a discreet gesture, Lysander indicated my bosom.

I looked down at myself, and he was right. Blood smeared my bodice and my camicia, and when I touched it, my fingers came away damp. A quick check proved it wasn’t my blood, and when I realized what must have happened, I turned on Elder. “I thought Cal was wearing your protective leather shirt!”

“He was. He is! Woman, what do you think? It’s not chain mail. It’s light, thin, supple leather. It has stopped many a blade, but a good thrust always gets through.”

“Through? Barnadine’s stiletto s-s-stabbed Cal?” I could barely stammer.

“Not fatally!” Elder stopped and reflected. “Probably not fatally, although Barnadine knew how to find the heart every time.”

With that, I made my decision, and turned back to Lysander.

Lysander, who watched me in confusion and concern. “You’re talking to Prince Escalus the elder?”

“Yes!”

“About Prince Escalus, his son?”

“Yes!”

“Prince Escalus, his son, was stabbed protecting you?”

“Yes! He . . . he . . .” I touched the blood on my chest, then gestured toward the stairs. “I have to—”

“No!” Lysander put his hand over my mouth. “Don’t say it. We can’t have come this close to a lifetime of passion, love, and friendship, only to have you turn aside now!”

Gently I pushed his hand away. “Lysander, everything about you is beautiful. Your face and figure attracted me first, but the violence of my first love might have failed if not for your humor, your intelligence, your modesty, and your affections for all that I hold dear.” Tears gathered in my eyes.

Heartache choked my voice. Pain broke me.

“You’re not improving matters,” Elder warned.

“Prince Escalus encouraged me in my suit!” Lysander’s voice rose.

“You would fit into my family so perfectly.” My words were the lament of a loving heart.

He ran his hands through his beautiful hair, paced away, then walked back.

It occurred to me how similar in track this conversation was to my earlier discussion with Cal.

Lysander’s determined chin warned me of a different tack. “I can support you in elegance, in luxury. I can invent the world anew for you, and for that, I will be paid admirably.”

“My friend, my love, do you believe that I make my decision by weighing how much each of you can give me in material goods?” In a deliberately sisterly gesture, I put my arm around his shoulders. “Do you really think that of me?”

“No.” He sounded wearily disgusted—I hoped with himself.

“Cal much envies you your talent and inventiveness.”

“Puhlease. He’s the prince of Verona!”

“As he pointed out, one of many princes past and future. You’re unique and hold the prospect of everlasting fame. Cal’s right; I’ve never met a man like you, and may never again, and my heart breaks knowing that I hurt you. Yet Prince Escalus would have me be happy.”

Lysander turned and wrapped his arms around my waist. “I can make you happy!”

When I disentangled myself, he didn’t try to hold me. “I have to make myself happy, and to do that, I make the honorable choice.” Taking his hands in mine, I put them palm to palm, as if in prayer, and, bowing down, kissed them and wept hot farewell tears.

As I ran toward the stairway, Lysander groaned in pain, yet I resolved I would never indulge in regrets.

For once, Elder intelligently said not a word.