“Shut up, Tristan!” I snapped. “Enough with the questions. I’m trying to find a road. Do you have it? Then, we’ll head along the road and see if we can find someone who knows something. That’s the best I’ve got right now. Got it?”
Tristan’s cheeks darkened, and for once, he held his tongue.
“Thank you,” he muttered.
At last, we tromped downhill in silence.
And then—finally—a rustic dirt road stretched ahead, flanked by a trickling stream.
It wasn’t fancy, just well-worn, the grooves of wagon wheels and hoof prints stamped deep into the earth.
I paused at the edge of the road, scanning the area before casting Tristan a sideways glance.
“Do you speak Italian?”
Tristan rubbed his forehead, looking about as confident as a drowned rat.
“Let’s see…” He hesitated. “Parlo… uh… parlo un pah—no, wait. Is it po? Yeah. Parlo un po’ d’italiano.”
“That’s perfect. You speak shitty Italian. I, on the other hand, speak fluently, thanks to my mother. From now on, you’d do well to keep your mouth shut. Your role is my manservant. You’ll speak when spoken to, do as you’re told, and nothing more. Understood?” I shot him a warning glare.
“Why do you get to be Prince Charming?” he retorted.
“Prince, what?” I frowned.
“Prince Charming. The guy who gets the girl and all the glory in the movie.” Tristan scowled.
I knew what movies were now, having watched a few with Jack in the 21st century, but this Prince Charming fellow was unfamiliar. Ignoring Tristan, I picked up the pace along the road.
The sun was relentless, beating down on our heads. We stopped to scoop water from a cold creek several times, gulping it down to stay cool.
“You know,” Tristan said, wiping water droplets from his face, “you can get all sorts of diseases from drinking contaminated water—giardia, cholera, dysentery, hepatitis A, typhoid, even polio. Just saying.”
I rolled my eyes and kept walking.
“Good. Maybe you’ll get one and die. But at least wait until you’ve fulfilled your purpose here in Italy, okay?” I squinted into the distance, catching sight of something unusual.
Tristan shot me a glare. “And what exactly is my purpose?”
I didn’t know either, but I wasn’t about to tell him that. “That’s on a need-to-know basis, and you don’t need to know.”
A smile tugged at my lips as I recalled Jack saying the same thing about Lee.
Tristan’s scowl deepened, but for once, he held his tongue.
I shielded my eyes from the glare of the sun. “Look.” I pointed ahead. “A carriage in distress.”
Tristan let out a grunt. “Huh.”
The elegant carriage, crafted from polished dark wood with red-painted wheels, leaned precariously to one side. One of the wheels was buried in thick mud. The two horses, still harnessed to the wagon, stood in the stream, their heads lowered as they slurped water.
From the far side of the carriage, out of sight, came the sounds of splashing and muttered curses.
“Hello, friend,” I called in Italian. “Need some help?”
A man’s face appeared, peering at us through the footwell beneath the driver’s seat. He stared, unblinking, saying nothing.
“Parli italiano?” I asked.
