“Milady, allow me to escort you down to the river.”
The men stopped their drinking and stared at her. Marisa hesitated, but she took Darian’s hand and they walked down the hill away from camp. She didn’t know if her heart was beating faster because of their brisk walk or if it was because he was holding her hand.
Unable to see where she was going, Marisa stumbled over a rock in the darkness and almost fell, but Darian quickly caught her. She stole a glance at his handsome profile in the low light of the lantern as he guided her down a steep, narrow path. The roar of the water continued to grow louder until they finally stopped several feet away from the river’s edge.
She gazed up into the night sky, amazed to see millions of stars. They seemed to twinkle in 3-D like tiny shards of glass, dotting the heavens all the way across to the horizon. It comforted her to see the same familiar moon nearly two-thirds full. She glanced over at Darian and noticed that he was quietly studying her in the moonlight.
“Do you think we might be able to call a truce?” he asked.
“I didn’t realize we were at war.”
“Not really war, but I still haven’t made up my mind if you’re a spy or not.”
“I’m not a spy, Darian,” she said softly.
“You probably feel like Alice in Wonderland by now.”
Marisa’s jaw dropped. “How do you know that story? And how is it that you can speak English so well? Or have you been to Earth too?”
“No, I have not been so fortunate as to have visited your world. I learned to speak English and a few other languages from Celino, the man of whom Arrie spoke yesterday.”
“But why would you even bother learning to speak English?”
“To the privy members of the noble class of Carnelia, Earth is known for its, uh, its—what’s the word again? Soph—sophisticated cultures. My mother felt that learning English would enrich my education, so she hired Celino as my tutor. He encouraged me to read all sorts of English books and literature.”
“Sophisticated cultures?” Marisa raised an eyebrow.
“Do you not come from a sophisticated society?”
“Me?” She snorted. “Definitely not. I’m from a small hick town in Oregon that most people have never even heard of.”
“Have you mastered a trade, or are you a gentleman’s daughter?”
“If you’re asking me whether I have a job or if I’m rich enough not to need one, the answer is neither. I just graduated from South Medford High last June and had hoped to get out and see the world. I just had no idea it would be a different world altogether.”
Darian smiled.
“In fact, I was all lined up to start med school this semester, but then life sort of got in the way.”
“Med school?”
“Medical school. I want to become a family practitioner—uh, doctor.”
“Ah, a doctor. That’s quite impressive,” he said, giving her a sidelong glance. “Do you think you are well-suited for that kind of work?”
“What do you mean? Because I’m a woman?” she asked archly.
“No, no—I didn’t mean it that way.” He chuckled. “It’s just that I have fought in many battles and have seen terrible things I never wish to see again. You would see horrible things all the time if you became a doctor.”
“Yeah, the blood and gore doesn’t bother me so much. Before my dad got sick, I had considered joining Doctors Without Borders. You know, travel around and see the world? Help third-world countries. That sorta stuff.”
“Have you traveled much?”
“Not really. I’ve been to California and Washington and skiing up at Whistler, Canada a few times, but I’ve never been further east than that. My dad took us to Hawaii one year and he was planning on taking us to Scotland for Christmas. But now that’ll never happen.”
Darian led her downstream and motioned for her to sit next to him on a large rock. He picked up a few small stones and threw them into the water one at a time, watching each one as it splashed.
Marisa huddled to keep warm under her cape and avoided his eyes. She was starting to fall for him but knew that wasn’t a good thing. He was completely out of her league. There was something so irresistible about him that made her wonder how many hearts the handsome young ambassador had already broken during his short life.
“I brought you down here so that I could explain some things to you before we reach the castle tomorrow,” Darian said, interrupting her thoughts. “We must conduct our duties as soon as possible and then get out quickly again. I don’t plan on staying for more than a couple days.”
When she realized that he’d brought her down to the river to discuss business, Marisa felt embarrassed and was relieved that he couldn’t see her flushed face in the darkness.
“The man we are visiting is called Viscount Savino da Rocha. As I told you earlier, he is the real power behind the throne, and he also happens to be my cousin. However, he is not the rightful heir to the throne.”
“He’s your cousin?”
“Distant cousin,” he corrected. “Savino’s father, Count Gregario da Rocha is currently the king, but not our legitimate monarch. Gregario was supposed to assume the throne only temporarily until the rightful successor could be crowned, but he actually has no desire to renounce the throne.”
“And now you’re having trouble getting rid of him?”
He nodded. “When Gregario’s illness worsened a few months ago, his son Savino stepped up to serve until his father passes. However, we are certain that Savino has no intention of yielding the throne once his father is dead.”
“Can he do that?”
“Politically speaking, it would be extremely difficult. Theoretically speaking, it would be nearly impossible. But that won’t stop him. Savino has hired some shrewd advocates who are investigating the issue of succession as we speak. Gregario does not belong to the Fiore bloodline and was never the true and rightful heir.”
“Then I don’t understand Savino and the Fiore connection.”
“After Queen Elyse perished in the shipwreck, her younger sister, Sophie, became queen. Sophie was Gregario’s wife and Savino’s mother. When Sophie passed away unexpectedly five years ago, her husband Gregario assumed the throne.”
“Then why shouldn’t Savino inherit the throne?” she asked.
“Because he does not carry the Fiore surname. Savino is a da Rocha, receiving his name from his father.”
Marisa stared at him blankly, struggling to connect the dots.
“Let me explain it another way. Since the time of our common ancestor, King Petrus Fiore, the Fiore dynasty has ruled over all the lands of Crocetta and Abbadon right up until Queen Elyse. Had the royal family not perished in the shipwreck, according to the laws of succession, Maraya Fiore would have inherited the throne. I would have married her, and so—I would have now been on the throne.”
Slowly his words registered and Marisa giggled as she imagined telling her best friend Daniela the entire story.
“What are you laughing at?”
“Oh, nothing,” she answered, shaking her head. “It’s just that my friends back home would never believe me in a million years if I told them about all of this.”
“Come, we should be going back now. We have a full day ahead of us, and we need to be well-rested.” He led her slowly back up the hill toward the camp but just before they reached it, he stopped her.
“Marisa, I know how difficult it is to lose a father. If you ever need someone to talk—”
“Thanks, but really—I’m okay.”
Darian nodded and spun around to go back. As Marisa watched his tall silhouette quickly climb the hill toward his tent, she felt bad for cutting him off. He was only trying to help and she should be kissing his feet for saving her life more than once.
Knowing that she wouldn’t be able to speak once they reached the campsite, she hurried after him and slipped her arm around his neck.
“Darian, thanks for saving my lif
e today,” she said softly. “I would have been dead now if it weren’t for you.”
Marisa stepped back, but Darian grabbed her arm and pulled her toward him. “You are most welcome, milady,” he whispered in her ear. The hairs on Marisa’s neck stood on end as he kissed her softly on the cheek.
As Darian and Marisa approached the campsite, the men eyed them with interest. They hadn’t moved an inch since they’d left and Arrie was nowhere to be seen. Marisa guessed that he had probably already gone to bed.
“Here is your tent, Lady Marisa,” Darian said with a bow. “Sleep well, and we shall see you in the morning.” His face was solemn as he lifted her hand to kiss it, but his eyes twinkled. He winked at her, and she smiled in amusement.
Marisa entered her tent and sighed. She had probably been too bold in her manner of thanking him, but because she had felt so attracted to him, she simply couldn’t help it. She lay on her mat waiting for sleep to come and chided herself. How could she allow herself to fall for a guy when she knew that it could never go anywhere?
Even if Darian had been attracted to her, he could never let it show. It was nothing personal. It’s just that his fate had been sealed long before he’d even met her.
CHAPTER 8
ABBADON
MARISA AWOKE THE NEXT morning to the clatter of pots and pans. She stuck her head out of the tent and squinted in the brightness of the morning sun. The warriors had already taken down all the other tents and stored them on their saddles.
Ducking back into her tent, she groaned. Her muscles were sore from the strenuous run the day before, and sleeping on the cold, hard mat hadn’t helped, either. Although she hated the idea, she knew she had to get up and get ready to go.
She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and spotted the leather satchel in the corner of the tent. She took out her father’s book and ran her hand across the soft texture of the purple fabric.
Opening it gently, she leafed through the pages. The book’s writing contained fluid, controlled strokes, except for the final page where the script was cramped and labored as it angled down off the paper. She flipped between the first and last pages and noticed a striking difference in writing styles.
Her knowledge of Scottish Gaelic was far too limited to be of any help in deciphering the book, but she was determined to have it translated once she returned to Earth. If she ever returned, that is.
“Good morning, sleepyhead!”
Marisa jumped as Arrie stuck his head inside the tent. Remembering not to say anything out loud, she just smiled and waved to return his greeting, and he quickly excused himself again to make sure all his gear was properly stored on his horse.
Darian’s head popped in. “Milady, we are preparing to leave now. You’d best be getting ready to go.”
She set the book down on the mat, stood up, and walked down the hill to the bucket of fresh water to splash some on her face.
Darian glanced around and noticed that Marisa’s was the only tent still standing. He entered it and bent down to roll up her bedding but hesitated when he spotted the book lying on the mat. He touched the velvety softness of its cover and rubbed the black stubble on his chin in quiet thought.
Finally, he opened it and quickly skimmed through the pages but stopped when he noticed a strange drawing. While he was studying it, a thin slip of paper fell out of the book. He bent down to pick it up and unfolded it just Marisa entered the tent.
“Hey, what are you doing with that?” she asked.
“Milady, I apologize. I was just rolling up your mat when I found this beautiful book.” Flustered, he quickly folded the paper, slipped it between the pages, and handed the book to her.
“Thanks,” she whispered, slipping it back in the satchel.
“Did you write it?” he asked curiously.
“No.”
Darian said nothing but hastily rolled up her mat and left the tent. She watched as he hurried down to the grove of trees where Talvan was barking orders and couldn’t help but admire the way his muscular body filled his uniform.
She saw him pointing to her as he discussed something with one of the warriors and her heart stopped. As the soldier walked up to where Marisa stood and began to take her tent down, she sheepishly stepped aside.
A few minutes later, Darian announced that they would be leaving immediately. The small company of seven men and one woman mounted their horses and began the last leg of their journey toward Abbadon.
With no desire to be a part of the warriors’ lewd conversations laced with male humor and raucous laughter, Marisa stayed on the outermost edges of the formation and focused on the beauty of the magnificent nature surrounding them. She stared up into the sky and noticed that the heavens were such a brilliant color of blue with only a few puffs of clouds here and there. The leaves were turning into their fall colors just as they had back in Oregon and as far as she could tell, Carnelia’s seasons were the same as on Earth.
Her focus on the breathtaking scenery slowly drifted as thoughts of the handsome young ambassador invaded her mind. The fact that she could not stop thinking about him bothered her. Since Darian rode behind her on the opposite side, she was grateful not to have his handsome form as a constant distraction within her range of vision.
As Marisa turned to peek at Darian, she was once again met by his unsmiling, stony expression. She looked away. Why did he act so pleasant to her one minute, only to flip over to extreme coldness the next?
She remembered Arrie’s comment about how complicated Darian was. Obviously, there was much more to this young man than meets the eye. No matter how attractive he was, though, she just could not fall for him. Her heart had been shattered once before, and she didn’t care to relive that again anytime soon.
Just one week before graduation and on the night of their senior prom, Marisa had been humiliated in front of the entire school when Troy Matthews had taken off with her good friend Michaela Adams. Looking back now, it had been nothing more than a brief obsession, but at the time, it had seemed like the end of her world.
But with Darian, things were different. He wasn’t some hick-town quarterback with a pickup truck and his daddy’s credit card. Darian was already a key player in the power and politics of the country and he was more than capable of doing serious damage to a girl’s heart.
She shifted her attention back to their surroundings. For the next few hours, the group climbed higher toward the snow-capped peaks. They crossed alpine meadows where flowers in every color of the rainbow dotted the pastures like colorful mosaics. Later, they passed through narrow valleys where emerald hills climbed steeply at sixty-degree angles.
As the men’s chatter eventually fell silent, Marisa closed her eyes and listened to the horses’ hooves meeting the road. Birds squawked high in the air, and for a few minutes, none from the party disturbed the majestic stillness.
No car horns, no sirens. No jet planes overhead, no throngs of people yammering into their cell phones or shouting to hail a cab. The breathtaking beauty engulfed and soothed her, and for a little while at least, her soul felt at peace.
As the party descended over the rocky terrain, Marisa leaned out around the soldier to check on Arrie. Although his face was pale from exhaustion and he winced each time the horse stepped into a rut, he seemed to be recovering. One of the warriors had bound his wound to help prevent it from becoming infected.
Satisfied that he was okay, her thoughts turned to Mark and Uncle Al. They must have gotten really worried when she never came home the night before. Members of the Jacksonville police, neighbors, and other friends in their tight-knit community had probably been up all night combing the area for her. Her uncle had probably figured out early on where she’d gone. If she ever made it back home, she could expect a serious grounding. She didn’t care, as long as it meant getting back home safe and sound again.
Her eyes moistened as she thought of all the people worrying about her. The burden of what her friends and family must be feeling made her
cry. As the tears began to overflow and run down her cheeks, the bottled-up emotions from previous days erupted to the surface. For the first time in her life, she couldn’t go to her father to make it all better. She leaned her head against Siena’s and cried.
Talvan spotted her slumped over her horse and removed his helmet. When he saw Marisa sobbing, he quickly spun around and motioned to Darian.
“Time to stop for a break,” Talvan shouted. The men saw Marisa’s head buried in Siena’s mane and exchanged knowing glances.
Darian turned to the youngest warrior. “Take the horses down to let them drink.”
“Yes, sire.”
All of the men except Arrie and Talvan left with their horses to go down to the river.
“Why don’t you two rest by the river for a few minutes as well?” Darian suggested.
Talvan and Arrie both said nothing but just nodded and hurried off.
Marisa wiped her eyes and climbed down but clung to her horse. She pressed her cheek against Siena’s as her weeping turned into sobbing.
All of a sudden, strong arms enveloped her and Marisa turned her tearstained face toward Darian’s. As he gazed down at her, she thought he was going to kiss her but he pulled her tightly into his chest instead. He stroked her hair softly as she mourned the father she’d never see again.
“Marisa, I’m truly sorry. The worst kind of pain the world has to offer can be found in losing a loved one.”
As her cheek pressed firmly against him, she could hear his heart beating, solid and strong. Slowly, she opened her eyes and saw that they were all alone.
“Sit here while I fetch you a drink of water,” he said.
Once he was out of sight, she wiped her tears on her sleeve and groaned, knowing that she must look awful.
From out of nowhere, a distant memory flashed through her mind. Marisa was only seven when she was out walking in the woods with her father after the death of her mother. He had explained to Marisa that there was no such thing as coincidence and that everyone’s fate was ruled by their destiny. Wondering how her coming to Carnelia figured into her fate, destiny, or whatever one wanted to call it, Marisa was starting to doubt that she had any sort of control over anything at all.
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