Chapter 32

Cosimo’s dark eyes dazzled, sparking with mischief and firelight. Henri’s feet still touched the ground as Cosimo turned back to one of his worktables.

The Italian returned bearing a helmet of leather. Not quite a crusader’s, for its shape ended in a sharp point like a hawk’s beak. There were no eyeholes in the headpiece. Henri had been wrong, it wasn’t a helmet but a hood. Cosimo stood before him a falconer without his bird.

Henri flinched but his binds held steady. Fear burst through his desire. His humors boiled with confusion and doubt. He felt his heart push against his rib cage. There was no way he was getting out, unless the Italian released him. Henri refused to play the coward, and so his gnashed teeth split into a grin, hoping the fury of betrayal remained unseen.

“What is that?” he asked.