Cruel Fortunes Omnibus: Volumes One to Four

by RAE STAPLETON

  I chuckled to myself. It was a damn shame I had no one to share my true sparkling personality with here.

  “Where are we going?” I asked

  “The gardens of Saint Martin.”

  That doesn’t sound so bad. Perhaps he was relieved to have me back and willing to overlook my disappearance. “Why the gardens?”

  “You wanted to see your mother, didn’t you?”

  “Yes!” Perfect. I could finally get back to Conrad.

  As we approached, I noticed that high shrubbery walls on either side enclosed what appeared to be a fort. Trees, vines and flowers all ran amuck, almost as if hiding the cold stone walls.

  I was led through numerous, dismal stone passages until we reached a large, subterranean hall. It was long and narrow; my hands and feet were freezing. The terror grew stronger, and my skin began to prickle. I’d read enough gothic romance to know nothing good came out of a dungeon scene Why would Princess Maria be a dungeon? Henri stood by the open door, looking grimmer than earlier, if that was possible. He was dressed in a sober, dark green uniform, hands folded in front, a clear display of arrogance and ruthlessness apparent in the set of his shoulders. Still, he smiled jovially enough and invited me to come closer.

  “You lied to me. Mother is not down here.”

  “I would never lie to you, my dear Sapphira,” he said. “It’s unpleasant, but trust me she is down here.”

  I stepped inside, expecting the door to slam behind me. Instead, I was assaulted by the smell of vomit and feces and something else. In the corner a lump was curled in the darkness, keening and crying.

  Blood. I realized the smell was blood.

  Conrad. Where is Conrad?

  I recoiled from the creature before me and looked at the Comte’s impassive face.

  Princess Maria was dirty, disheveled and crying in the corner. She has come completely undone.

  “What’s the meaning of this? Get her out of there.”

  “I will as soon as you agree to my terms. Now come this way.” He tugged me so I was now in front of the next cell. “Of course, you know Herr Rochus Liebhauser.” The door to his cell was guarded but open.

  At the sound of his name, the man in the corner turned his face to mine. I could not look upon what I saw there. I dropped my eyes to the floor, wet with fresh blood. Horror at what they had done to Rochus, mixed with relief that it was not Conrad, surged through my veins. I ran to him, though my stomach retched. He flinched as I put an arm around him.

  “I’m so sorry,” I whispered. “I’ll get you out.”

  I fled the cell then and vomited, comprehending what I had seen. One of his eyes had been cut out.

  Footsteps came toward me, and I knew the Comte was hovering over me.

  “You’re a monster!” I reached my hand up to smack him in the face, and he caught it in so forceful a grip I was sure it bruised.

  “I’ll take that,” he said, and tugged my sapphire ring from my finger. “Your chamber maid Anais has gone home to her family,” he said. “We did not harm her, but I would like you to agree to marry me now.”

  I stumbled back down the numerous passages toward the castle door and then sat silently in the carriage next to the monster, counting the minutes until I was alone again in my room. My shoulders sagged as exhaustion hit me. I was so tired. My head ached after all the retching. Poor Maria. Poor Rochus. I’d seen the panic in his eyes the day I had showed up at his home. I remembered how he had paled as he scolded me for coming myself. How could I have been so careless and naïve, not to realize what kind of monster I was up against. I vowed to somehow get him out of there and undo all of this. I prayed that Henri spoke the truth and that Anais had merely been banished, allowed to return to her family unharmed.

  In despair, I went to the desk in Sapphira’s room. Had he searched it? No, the diary and map were still hidden. I opened the drawer and tucked them away. I couldn’t think. I sighed, sensing it would be useless to read the diary over right now in such an emotionally drained state. I lay down on the bed and dissolved into tears. The rain fell outside my window, and I felt like the world was crying with me. Finally, exhaustion overtook me and I lapsed into a dream.

  The sound of muffled voices from within the fireplace jarred me awake. I was up and off the bed in a matter of moments. Something told me to enter the fireplace. I glanced at the desk and saw the open journal.

  Looking down, I observed that I wore a nightgown and overcoat now—not the dress I’d worn earlier to the dungeon; that had been red. Red like the blood on Rochus’s face. Sadness overtook me but was quickly replaced with confusion. My hand stole to my hair. I fingered large ringlets spilling down my back. I’m still Sapphira. How did I get changed and where am I going? This must be a vision from Sapphira.

  I shook my head and ran my hands along the mantle, surprised when the fireplace opened. The muffled voices grew louder.

  Holding my breath as well as a candle, not certain what to steel myself against, but steeling myself nonetheless, I stepped into a dark tunnel full of flickering shadows.

  I scurried instinctively along the passageway with an odd sense of familiarity of its twists and turns. Charles and I played in here our whole lives, said the voice in my head. Sapphira’s voice. Father used the secret room to meet gem merchants. I did my best to relax again as we followed the men to a secret room downstairs and I was shown how the jewel had come to be Sapphira’s.

  Suddenly like a pro wrestler, I was slammed back into my body. Confused, my eyes roamed the Princess’ familiar bedroom. I was back.

  I felt a draft as the door opened. My heart plummeted as Henri came in.

  “Resting up for our wedding are you, my dear?” he said. “I trust you’ll want that to happen sooner rather than later.”

  Revulsion over Henri and the morning trip to the dungeon returned. Still, marrying him was a one-way ticket to death for all of us.

  “I’ll never marry you.”

  He sneered at me, and I could see the wheels turning.

  “You are consistent, I’ll give you that.”

  “Consistent and smart,” I said, as I smiled as sweetly as possible, “You may have Maria but you don’t have Nico or the Prince and when they find out what you’ve done, you’ll pay. Now, I’m feeling peckish... err… hungry. Now, how about—”

  His hand closed on my arm in an iron grip.

  “There will be no dinner for you.”

  “You can’t keep me captive forever.”

  “Is that your thinking? Our wedding will take place shortly and, by God, you will be an obedient creature one way or another. You shall remain a prisoner in your room until you agree.” And with that he slammed the door behind him.

  Why had I ever come back and allowed him to trap me?

  I stared at the door. I hadn’t heard it lock. I waited two minutes, cursing the entire time.

  Finally, I grasped the door handle. It turned silently.

  Your wife. A prisoner in my room? I think not.

  I moved as stealthily as possible down the hall and slowly peeked around the alcove. Two surly soldiers leaned against the wall, guarding the stairs. I turned on my heels and high-tailed it back to my still-empty chamber. Once the door was closed, I looked about for options. I spied the mantel where candles still burned. Sapphira had used the passageway behind the fireplace in the dream, and she had exited into the courtyard. Of course! Why hadn’t I thought of that before? I could get out.

  Heart thumping, I pulled the diary and map from their sanctuary and looked for a button or lever along the mantle above the hearth. I couldn’t remember how to open the fireplace. I ran my hands along the bricks, picking up a candle before moving aside a china ornament. At last I found a stone that pushed in. With a loud dragging sound, the back wall shifted. I listened to see if the guards stirred—nothing but the sweet hammering of my heart. I crept into the dark space like a mouse who’d found its home, except my tiny paws could hold a candle. I stopped occasionally to li
ght one of the wall torches in case mine went out, but mostly I kept to the shadows.

  The tunnel twisted and turned like a water slide at an amusement park—perhaps less fun. Just past the two-way mirror, in the ballroom, I came to a spot with multiple tunnels. Pulse pounding, momentarily lost, I began to waver. Double-checking the map, I trudged on, choosing the passage on the left. A spider’s web clung to my face and I almost screamed as I rubbed it away. Holy shit! Who put Charlotte’s web there? The candle blew out as I flailed. Just my luck. These passageways were clearly a close-kept secret. Otherwise they would have been scrubbed and polished like the rest of the damn palace. Drafts whistled through the cracks, and I began to hear snatches of conversation coming from below. I knelt as if in prayer and applied my ear to a crack in the plank.

  “Jean, is everything in place?”

  I recognized Henri’s voice right away.

  “Almost.”

  “Our treaty states that once I marry and become Prince, you will be separated, officially.”

  Voices were raised.

  “Excellent. That will strengthen our position.” The man I assumed was Jean spoke, lively with anticipation.

  “My understanding is that you, along with several members of the Carbonari, will rid me of Charles before the celebration tonight. See that I’m notified by messenger once it’s done so we may proceed with the wedding.”

  This made my ears prick up. Prince Charles, Sapphira’s beloved brother who ruled over the Kingdom of Sardinia would be assassinated on his journey home. The celebration I presumed would now become my wedding and death sentence. But why would these political men help Henri gain power? I tried to remember everything I knew of the revolutionary secret society known as the Carbonari. I’d once helped a student write a paper on them. The name I remembered stood for charcoal burner and the similarity between them and the Freemasonry had been evident. I seemed to recall that they lacked a clear political agenda but basically if my memory was correct, they did not shy away from assassination or armed revolt. Yep, that lined up. Great! I stilled my pattering thoughts in case I missed something.

  “Agreed. Tonight! It will be done before the feast. I will notify you myself.”

  At least one party left the room at that point, and as I heard the door, I raised myself on stiff knees and scampered on. I came to a spiral stairway that led me down to what I assumed was the main floor of the castle. According to the map, the jewel room was at the end. I passed another stairway and wondered where it led to—underground? Halfway down the hall I noticed the torches set in the sconces were lit. Did Henri and his fellow plotters use these passages? Of course, they did. They were a secret society, obviously they would use a secret passage.

  Just then I heard the echo of heeled shoes. There was an alcove. I’d most likely be discovered but I had to try. I backed up and hid behind the tapestry. The threads had worn through around the eyes and so I could just make out Alastríona’s shadowy form as she passed by, heading in the direction from which I’d come. And where exactly are you coming from Alastríona?

  I waited a few minutes and when she didn’t return, resumed my exploration. I was now eager to figure out just what she was doing down here. The narrow tunnel ballooned into a cave, and the amber glow grew stronger. I rushed to a spot where I’d just seen a large beetle disappear. My creep factor went on high alert at the insect but I moved closer, recognizing the area from my dream. There was silence from the other side. I felt around for a lever, but before I could find it there was an uncomfortable shuffling of feet behind me.

  A cold, wet hand clamped over my mouth, stifling my cry. I was caught. Thanks a lot intuition. Where were you on that one?

  “Sapphira,” a voice whispered in my ear. “Shhhh. It’s me.”

  I quit struggling, and he removed his hand. My arms automatically went around his neck.

  “Conrad—oh, thank heavens. You wouldn’t believe what I just heard.”

  Then I was struck with a lightbulb moment. Why is the Graf here, albeit wet and sexy looking?

  How would he know about the secret passage unless he was also a member of the secret society? Or in league with Alastríona.

  I scrambled to turn, fell to one knee and picked myself up before I ran, stumbling, back the way I’d come.

  Betrayal swelled in my chest, but I squashed the emotions. I needed to find a way out.

  TWENTY-TWO

  I could smell his musty cologne of fire and woodchips closing in on me, and I willed myself to run faster. He grabbed my wrist, and I let out a small scream.

  “Sapphira, calm down.” He gripped my arm, pulling me tight. “Why are you running from me?”

  “How did you know about the passageway?” I stuttered, pulling away.

  He looked straight at me, and I knew he saw the fear in my eyes. As if reading my thoughts, he loosened his grip and apologized.

  “I didn’t know! I was worried waiting around, doing nothing while you took all the risks, and so I came looking for you.”

  I looked him over slowly, observing the hollows under his eyes and the stubble that grazed his cheeks.

  “When I arrived at my cousins after returning you here, I heard Henri had been scouring the town for you. He’d been seen with Giuseppe and Jean Trenca—known members of the Carbonari. That bothered me, so this morning I went to find your friend Rochus, but his neighbor said he was arrested more than a week ago. I knew something was wrong. I headed to the palace where Lisabetta recognized me on the main road. She told me you and your mother were locked away, warned me about the soldiers and told me how to get in, avoiding the main gate. I had to wait two hours for a shift change.”

  “You’re wet.”

  “I know,” he said, letting go. “I was lurking in the bushes, hiding from Henri’s men. I was trying to find the staircase Lisabetta told me of. One of the men was practically on top of me when I noticed an opening underneath the mote. I figured I could squeeze through it, so I took a risk and slipped into the water.”

  That did seem plausible. I relaxed and began feeling the stones along the wall.

  “What are you doing?” Conrad asked.

  “Help me find the stone with the lever. I think there’s a secret room in here. We can light the fireplace, and you can finish your story and warm up.”

  “There’s a secret room?” said Conrad.

  “The castle is full of them.”

  “So, it seems,” Conrad agreed.

  I continued feeling for the lever as I’d seen Sapphira’s brother do in my vision. Finally, I found something and pulled. The wall retracted with a dragging sound. Smiling at my luck, I stepped into a dark room full of shadows.

  With a name like the royal treasure trove, I expected to be dazzled by the bright sheen of gold, but pitch black loomed. Going on memory, I fumbled until I found a lantern.

  The room smelled of dust. Of course, there were no windows because we were underground.

  “It’s so damp,” I said, wandering around the room with the lantern to light the other candles.

  Conrad took the hint and headed straight for the fireplace, narrowly missing a case that sat in the center of the room.

  “There is furniture down here. How did you know about this place?” asked Conrad, lighting the fire.

  “Sapphira’s diary had a map. I also dreamed about this place this afternoon. I think Alastríona’s been in here.” My eyes widened as the light from flames began to permeate the corners of the room. The space was grand. “These must be original Gobelin’s. I saw one of these once in the Louvre in Paris,” I said, fingering the tapestries that adorned the walls. “It’s difficult to imagine how craftsmen weaved the thin threads into such detailed pictures.”

  “Never mind that. Come here and warm me up,” Conrad said, removing his wet shirt. I glanced around the room and grabbed one of the blankets off the chair to wrap him in.

  “It’s dusty, but it’ll do the trick.” I walked toward him, enjoying the view of his
rippling abs. “Anyway, tell me about how you got in once you were under the moat.”

  “The steps in the water led up into a cave. I climbed out and followed the hallway. I came to what I thought was the end, but when I leaned against the wall, a door pushed open.” He grabbed my arms and pulled me into his chest. “I was so worried about you.”

  “I was worried about you as well,” I said, thinking of that dear, sweet alchemist. I decided this wasn’t the time to tell him. Conrad lifted my chin in his hands, his fiery green eyes narrowing as he kissed my lips.

  “Conrad, wait, I need to tell you something.” I could feel him trembling, and I wrapped myself tighter around him, despite the dampness of his pants.

  “You know how you mentioned the Carbonari?”

  “Ja.”

  “Well, I overheard their plan to kill Charles tonight.”

  “Tonight? But he’s not here.”

  “He’s on his way home, supposedly for a feast. They’ve baited him. His camp’s an hour’s ride from here. I heard them studying maps. The Prince must have a spy within his men. The Carbonari plan to assassinate him.”

  “Why would they do that?” Conrad said, knitting his eyebrows together.

  “You mean besides the fact that they’re deranged psychos. I don’t know. That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out.”

  “Why would a political group trying to achieve Italian unification want to see Henri in power?” He paused a moment. “Unless Charles opposes them and is getting in the way?”

  “Holy shit,” I said, thinking of history I’d read. “That’s right! The Prince fought to keep Menton and Roquebrune—despite their protests to be free.”

  “Henri has made them a deal then. If they get rid of the Prince and place him in power, he’ll do their bidding.”

  “Bingo. And unfortunately, for me…,” I paused. “Or rather Sapphira, the only way to put him in power is marriage to the Princess—me.”

  “Otherwise sovereignty over the Grimaldi realm would revert to France,” Conrad said, finishing my thought.