The Carnelian Legacy
Page 23
“Ah, yes,” he said.
She stopped. “Sir, can you understand what I am saying?”
He nodded at her and smiled.
“Have we met?” she asked. “I have the strangest feeling that I know you from somewhere.”
“My name is Eman, milady. I’m exceedingly pleased to meet you,” he said with a low bow.
“I’m Marisa. Do you live nearby?”
“I reside over there, just beyond those trees—up on that hill.”
“Excuse me, sir, but how do you know English? Have you ever been to Earth? Maybe you know my friend Celino?”
Eman stared out into the hills, ignoring her questions. “What were you running away from just now?” he asked.
“Oh, I—uh, I was afraid.”
“Afraid of what?” His sparkling brown eyes seemed to dance.
“I don’t know—it’s kind of complicated. I guess I was worried about my future,” she said finally.
“Today has enough problems of its own. Do not worry about tomorrow, for it will take care of itself,” he said.
Marisa just nodded.
“The next time you are out here from the city, milady, I would be most honored if you would come visit me for tea,” he said softly.
“I’d like that. I’ll be living out here permanently starting the day after tomorrow, so I guess we’ll be neighbors. I can come once and borrow a cup of sugar,” she said dryly.
Eman smiled. “You had better be getting back now, milady. It is going to rain soon.” He herded his sheep off the road.
“Thank you, sir. I’ll come visit you the next time I come back.”
“Milady, the pleasure was all mine,” he said, tipping his hat.
CHAPTER 25
BURIALS
ON THE WAY BACK to Crocetta, Marisa thought about Eman. She knew she’d seen him before, but she couldn’t remember where and it was driving her crazy. The shops were all closed in respect to the king’s funeral, and there were only a few people still milling about on the city streets. Most were making their way back home.
She entered through the main gate and headed straight toward the stables, on her guard in case she should bump into Savino. Once Siena had been secured in her stall, Marisa snuck up to her room through the servants’ corridors which passed along the wine cellars.
Once she was back in her chambers, Marisa noticed that Anna had laid out a different gown for her to wear to the funeral. It was all black and made of a stiff material that reminded her of taffeta and it was much more formal than the dress she’d worn that morning.
The time on her phone read 12:43 p.m. She only had a few minutes before Cozimo would come to give her instructions. The water was cold as she quickly gave herself a sponge bath, but she didn’t have time to wait for hot water from the kitchen. She scrubbed her face and dried it before asking Anna to help her fasten the stiff corset. With the young woman’s assistance, she slipped into the black dress and Anna quickly braided her hair.
Marisa frowned when she looked in the mirror and saw the deathly pallor in her face. Still in shock from what she’d seen at Beauriél, she pinched her cheeks for a bit of color. There was a soft knock at the door.
Anna opened the door and Cozimo entered with the help of a walking stick. He bowed slowly, and Marisa remembered to curtsey.
“Milady, this shall be brief as the funeral is set to begin shortly,” he began slowly. “You shall assemble down at the main staircase thirty minutes from now. There shall be a short procession consisting of two rows that shall lead the funeral guests down toward the Knights’ Hall.”
He blinked absently as if he’d forgotten what to say.
“Leading the two lines will be His Royal Highness Prince Darian and the Viscount Savino da Rocha, followed respectively by Her Royal Highness Princess Adalina and Lady Matilda. The rest of the royal family and advisors shall follow in rank order. You shall walk with Lord Arrigo Macario, so if you have any questions, he shall be there, ready to assist you.”
The old man coughed several times and seemed to be having trouble breathing. Marisa was just about to call Anna to get him a glass of water when he cleared his throat loudly and continued with his instructions.
“Once the procession has reached the interior of the Knights’ Hall, everyone shall sit in the royal pews in the exact order they entered. At the conclusion of the service, the procession shall depart from the Knights’ Hall and cross the main courtyard.
“There, the casket shall be placed on a royal carriage and the procession shall make its way down through the city. This will allow the citizens of Crocetta ample time to offer their final farewell to His Royal Highness. Then it shall wind its way back up to the royal Crimson sepulcher, where the coffin shall be laid to rest.”
The old man stared at her. “Do you have any questions?”
She ran over the order of the events in her mind. It all seemed straightforward enough. “Nyoit,” Marisa said. She had managed to pick up a few basic words in Crocine.
“At the conclusion of the funeral service, which is expected to close at approximately four-thirty, a funeral banquet will be held. Again, you shall sit next to Lord Arrigo Macario at the place marked especially for you. When the feast has reached its conclusion, you shall be free to leave. Questions?”
The old man seemed to be out of breath as she shook her head.
“No?” Cozimo asked, giving her a curt nod. “Then that will be all. Milady, I shall see you at the banquet.”
He wobbled over to the door and bowed his head. She curtseyed to him and gently closed the door.
With still a few minutes before she had to report downstairs, her thoughts drifted back to Darian. He was probably used to briefings every day that mapped out his entire schedule minute-to-minute. It would be enough to drive a sane person to total madness. She was starting to understand what Darian had meant when he said he had no control over his own life.
Her father had always taught her never to judge a person until she had walked a mile in their shoes. But after just a few days at the castle, she was already starting to get calluses on her feet. Next to the importance of Darian’s life, her own insignificance became painfully clear.
In that moment, she suddenly wanted more. She wanted to be important—not for her own sake, but to make a difference. What good was a person’s life if they didn’t make some sort of positive impact for the better? Even the favorite toast of Carnelia had to do with a person fulfilling his destiny. But what was her destiny? And what role did she have to play in all this?
Marisa jumped as she noticed the time on her phone. She closed the door behind her and jogged down the hall as fast as she could move in the bulky dress. As she descended the grand staircase, sounds of loud chatter echoed up the vestibule. She was startled to discover a dense crowd of people waiting below to start the procession. As soon as she appeared, everyone stopped to stare.
Both Savino and Darian watched her from their spot at the front of the procession. The two men seemed to juxtapose each other perfectly, one with hair as dark as night and the other as bright as the sun. Marisa quickly found Arrie and he offered her an arm.
“Are you ready to endure another funeral so soon?” he asked.
“I guess. I didn’t know Gregario, so it shouldn’t be too difficult.”
“He was a lot like Savino,” Arrie whispered. “In so many ways.”
She strained to see Savino’s face through the crowd but was only able to catch a glimpse of the back of his head.
Without warning, the bells in the citadel tower began to crash loudly, startling everyone. Pealing long and steady and slow, they clanged in a funerary melody as the procession started to inch forward.
Arrie gave her a quick squeeze. “Here we go,” he said.
As Marisa followed the young woman ahead of her, she concentrated on not stepping on her dress. When they crossed the courtyard outside, she could see Darian and Savino at the front leading the line of noblemen and women.
The procession entered the Knights’ Hall where the pews had been set up in rows of four, each one facing the center of the hall. The casket in had been placed in the very center. Marisa and Arrie quickly found their assigned places as the bells continued to peal.
Once the service began, Marisa found it difficult to concentrate. Recent memories of her father’s burial at the Jacksonville cemetery rose to the surface, and a wave of grief came rushing back. After just a few minutes, she had to remove the translator from her ear, unable to listen to any more tributes or eulogies. A few of the people around her sniffled, further intensifying the somber mood.
They stood and sat down several times, and when the ceremony had finally ended, the bells in the citadel tower began to peal once more. Everyone in the hall stood around chatting until it was time for them all to file out.
She scanned the crowd for Savino but instead saw Lady Matilda’s grief-stricken face. Knowing exactly how she was feeling, Marisa’s heart went out to Matilda. She felt the need to comfort her with a hug, but with the dense crowds of people packed into the hall, it would be almost impossible to reach her at that point. She decided to find her after the ceremonies and offer her condolences.
Darian’s broad figure caught Marisa’s eye as he strode across the hall and she watched as he pulled Matilda into a firm embrace. As the beautiful young woman sobbed into his chest, Marisa flashed back to the road near Abbadon where Darian had comforted her in that same manner just a few days before.
Although she had always known deep down that she could never be with Darian, it had never stopped her from hoping.
But now as he held Matilda in a private, tender moment, Marisa released the last sliver of hope still clinging to her soul. There could be no denying the mutual love and respect that existed between them, and she felt as if she was intruding on their intimate moment.
A tear slid down Marisa’s cheek. Matilda would be the woman he needed to face his prominent role in history. For the first time since she’d come to Carnelia, she was finally sensing closure on a turbulent time with Darian. Once a tentative question mark she had hoped might end as an exclamation point, Darian would simply become the period at the end of the chapter. Prince Darian Fiore would wind up as nothing more than a small footnote in the story of her life—
“Marisa, are you okay?” Arrie eyed her with concern.
She shook her head sadly.
As a tear rolled down her face, he brushed it away and gathered her in a warm hug. Arrie knew the real reason for her tears. From coping with her father’s death to falling hopelessly in love with Darian, he had remained her one true friend through it all, and she trusted him entirely.
“Here, take this,” he said, handing her a handkerchief.
As the trumpets sounded, Marisa wiped her damp face and turned to see Darian watching them questioningly. She quickly looked away and pretended not to notice him.
The mourners jostled back into their places as the procession began to crawl forward. The Crimson knights were dressed in suits of armor and stood at attention in two rows facing each other with their swords drawn. Gregario’s casket passed under them as it left the Knights’ Hall for the last time. Behind it, the long procession of royals and noblemen filed out of the hall in a somber fashion.
Once they were outside, the carriage crossed the central courtyard and rolled down toward the main castle entrance. It passed under the rampart walls and down into the city streets. Marisa glanced up and saw the black storm clouds rolling in from over the ocean to cover the skies. Gray and somber, just like the mood.
The people of Crocetta bowed in silence as the casket passed them by and they paid their last respects. Her eyes scanned the worn, weary faces of the people and she wondered what would become of the city. There was still a chance to save them, but it would mean marrying Savino. When she saw the face of a tired mother trying to comfort her crying baby, her heart broke.
The funerary procession wound its way down through the streets of the city and meandered back up again until it found its way back to the castle gate. As the coffin reached the royal Crimson sepulcher, the procession stopped, and it was ceremoniously removed from the carriage by six members of the Crimson court.
After the casket had been solemnly laid to rest inside the sepulcher, there was silence in the kingdom for two full minutes. The only sounds that broke the stillness were the flags whipping in the wind and the distant peals of thunder rumbling across the skies. Soon the bells in the tower rang out, marking the end of the entombment ceremony.
“Come, Marisa, it’s time to go to the banquet,” Arrie said.
The Knights’ Hall had been transformed into a splendid banquet room with tables full of food. After several minutes of searching among the commotion, Marisa and Arrie found their places and sat down. Scanning the crowds to find the others, Marisa noticed a beautifully carved chair between Darian and Savino.
“Who sits between Darian and Savino?” Marisa whispered.
“No one, it remains empty,” Arrie answered somberly. “It’s left that way in honor of the deceased. It’s a reminder to all that he no longer walks among us.”
As the bountiful feast was served, Marisa picked at her plate, but she wasn’t hungry. She leaned forward in her chair to see Savino flirting shamelessly with a young woman at the next table and her face twisted with disgust.
She looked at Darian as he passed a plate of food to Matilda and sighed. He was so handsome in his black armor. No matter how hard she tried, she would probably never be able to erase him completely from her heart. He looked at Marisa and their eyes locked for a brief moment. He smiled thoughtfully and cocked his head as if to ask what she was thinking. In the midst of the noisy conversations going on all around her, she just smiled faintly and then quickly looked away.
She knew she would never fit into the rich lifestyle of titled people of privilege and nobility. It was a completely different world and one in which she did not belong.
Later when a maid approached Savino to pour more wine into his glass, she saw him give the young woman a naughty smile as he patted her on her backside. She had seen enough.
“Is it okay for me to leave now?” Marisa whispered.
“Yes, our duty here is done,” said Arrie. “Would you like me to walk you back to your chambers?”
She nodded sadly. Arrie pulled her chair back for her, and as they made their way through the noisy hall, Darian and Savino turned to watch them leave. She avoided their stares as she mentally closed the book on a most difficult chapter of her life. One of the two men sitting at the head table Marisa could never freely love and the other one could never freely love her.
They entered the empty palace corridors and suddenly she felt exhausted. She stopped to remove her shoes and slowly leaned back against the wall. Her feet hurt from all the unexpected walking that afternoon.
“Arrie, you know that I’ll miss seeing you every day, but I sure won’t miss any of this,” she said, pointing toward the Knights’ Hall.
“I will be very sad to see you go, cousin,” he said softly. “Are you certain there isn’t a way to talk you out of it?”
“No, there isn’t.”
The marble floor was cold under her bare feet, but Marisa didn’t care—at least she felt free. As they climbed the grand staircase, she studied the faces of the royal ancestors. It struck her how old, haggard, and worn out they all appeared. She decided that being a royal probably took years off a person’s life.
Once they reached her chambers, Arrie turned to leave.
“Would you mind staying for a few minutes?” Marisa asked, grabbing his arm. “I could really use some company.”
“Of course. How about a nice glass of wine?”
“Hmm, okay, maybe half a glass.” They entered her suite just as Anna was laying out a clean nightgown.
“Would you please bring us some wine?” Arrie asked.
“Yes, sir.” Anna curtseyed and hurried off.
“So, are you ready for your big birthday ball bash tomorrow?” Arrie asked, carefully uncorking the bottle.
“Honestly, I’m not even looking forward to it. I might not go. I’m just trying to get through the next thirty hours or so until I can get out of this castle for good.”
He stopped pouring the wine. “What do you mean? The party is going to be fantastic! Why won’t you come to your own party?” he asked, handing her a glass.
“Arrie, you already know why.”
“Remind me.”
She rolled her eyes. “I can’t be around him anymore. I just want to start all over and put the last two weeks behind me.”
“You’ll never be able to do that, you know.”
“What? Put the past behind me? I’m sure gonna try. The memories are just too painful.”
“Marisa, this whole thing we call life is just a series of painful, not so painful, happy, and joyful memories. Everything we experience, for better or for worse, shapes us into who we are.”
“Believe me—I have tried to stay positive about everything. But at this point, the last thing I need is another bad memory.”
“I heard a marvelous saying back on Earth once—something about making lemonade?”
“When life hands you lemons, you make lemonade?”
“That’s it!”
“Yeah, well, I’m all out of sugar. Losing my mom’s ring was the last drop in the bucket.” She turned to him. “I don’t suppose you’ve found it yet?”
“No, but we’re not giving up just yet. Marisa, many people have gone to a lot of trouble to honor you on your birthday.”
“I never asked for a party.”