The Carnelian Tyranny: Savino’s Revenge

by Cheryl Koevoet

  She glanced to her left at the gated entrance of Beauriél only a few hundred paces away. She counted five warrior guards posted on the road near the gate, making it nearly impossible for her not to be spotted by one of them. Savino’s men would be everywhere, patrolling the countryside and looking for a young woman meeting her exact description. Her chances of making it back to the city alive were slim to none.

  Spotting the familiar hill about a mile down the road, she knew her only chance was to get to Eman’s house and send him to the citadel for help. But in order to reach it, she would have to cross the road.

  Sprinting across the road, she dove behind a bush and peeked out at the warriors, but they remained in their current position, chatting and laughing together. Her feet were completely numb from the cold, reminding her of when Darian had rescued her from the Styrian Ice Caves. But now it was up to her to save herself.

  Pulling her cloak tightly around her, she bolted away from the shrubs and headed south. As she ran through the snow-covered fields, her heart thundered at a rapid tempo, her lungs feeling as if they would explode. Seeing that none of the warriors spotted her moving across the snow, she just kept going. The large grove of trees on top of the hill was less than half a mile away, but it seemed like forever since each of her steps met resistance from the deep snow.

  Finally reaching the southern face of the hill, she tripped over a stone hidden by a thick layer, but was able to catch herself from falling. She moved around to the front, seeing no one nearby on the road. Breathless and sweaty, she pounded on the door, silently thanking Garon that she had reached the house undetected.

  Eman opened it on the first knock. “Your Highness, what are you doing out at this late hour?”

  “I desperately need your help.” She panted, fighting to catch her breath. “There’s been an attack at Castle Beauriél. Several of my guards have been killed.”

  His eyes filled with concern. “Are you unharmed? What about your family?”

  “I’m fine. I was able to escape, and so were my uncle and brother. May I come in?”

  He motioned her inside. “Please, come in. I shall make you a cup of tea.”

  “Tea?” She glanced back at the road. “No—there’s no time for that, Eman. We need to find someplace to hide!”

  “Your hands are chilled to the bone!” he said, pulling up a chair for her. “Come, sit next to the fire. It will warm you up and dry your clothes.”

  “They’re out there, everywhere, looking for me right now. We’ve got to get out of here, Eman!” Impatiently, she sat down on the stool, rubbing her hands together in front of the warm blaze.

  “Get warm first and then we shall sort this all out,” he said, surprising her with his calmness.

  He removed her cloak and hung it over a chair in front of the fire to dry. Then he draped a blanket around her shoulders and handed her a cup of tea. He sat down in a chair across from her, taking a sip of his own tea and staring at her expectantly.

  “Eman, I need to ask you a favor.”

  “Of course, child, anything.”

  “You need to get to Crocetta and warn Darian. You have to tell him what’s happened. If I go, I’ll be captured and killed! I only hope it isn’t too late.”

  “Yes, of course. Drink your tea, and I shall prepare to go.”

  “I’m sorry to wake you so late, but I had no other place to go.”

  “You are always welcome here.”

  “We’ve known about Savino’s attempt to assassinate one of us for a few weeks now, but it still came unexpectedly.”

  “My dear, you did not disturb me. I was awake, praying.”

  She watched him as he sipped his tea, noticing the warmth in his eyes and the way his dark hair shone in the candlelight. Somehow he looked younger, but more subdued than he had been the night before. “Are you all right, Eman? You seem—anxious.”

  “I am better now that you are here. I enjoy your company.”

  “Well, I can’t stay long—I’ll have to find another place to hide out. If they find me here, they’ll haul you away with me. And I’m very worried about Darian.”

  “There is no need to worry. His Highness is safe.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I just know.”

  She didn’t respond but instead took a sip of tea. It was a momentary respite, warming her insides on its way down to her stomach. Feeling Eman’s eyes on her, she looked up and saw that he was smiling at her. “What is it?”

  He looked at her shyly. “I am exceedingly pleased to see that you are wearing my gift,” he said, motioning to the amulet.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “Tell me, Your Highness, how were you able to escape?”

  “It was an absolute miracle! One of the warriors came into my room and cornered me in the closet, but, luckily, he didn’t find me. I was so scared.”

  He smiled gently. “You need not fear anything. It was not luck that saved you, but rather my amulet. It shielded you from evil eyes.”

  She glanced down at the amulet’s glow which seemed brighter than before. “Eman, does the amulet have—”

  He raised a hand, silencing her. “Someone is approaching. Please remember all that I told you this evening. It shall help you through your darkest moments. I shall miss you, dear child.”

  He got up from his chair, kissing her softly on the forehead just before a loud pounding at the door broke the peaceful silence.

  “Do not be afraid, I shall always be with you,” he said softly, moving to open the door.

  “No—don’t!” She lunged for him. “It’s probably them!”

  Her warning came too late as the bulky frames of two massive warriors filled the doorway. One of whom she recognized.

  “Deimos!” she whispered, rooted to the spot. In plain view of Savino’s men, there was no place for her to hide.

  “Where’s the fugitive?” he demanded, pushing his way in.

  Far too large to fit in such a small house, Deimos’ brawny body hunched over in a menacing pose as he studied Eman.

  “There is no fugitive here,” Eman answered calmly.

  “Do not suppose that you can deceive us, you foolish shepherd.” He motioned to a younger warrior who entered the house and immediately began to search it. “These tracks from Beauriél lead right up to your door. Now where is she?”

  “I have already told you—there is no fugitive here. See for yourselves.”

  The younger warrior moved about the small room, searching under the bed, in the kitchen cupboard, even inside the wood bin.

  Marisa held her breath, diving under the table when Deimos moved past her. Lifting the tablecloth to glance questioningly at Eman, her eyes searched his, probing for any explanation. He answered with a peaceful smile.

  Deimos stamped his foot against the floorboards, listening for any spaces that sounded hollow. Finding none, he clenched his jaw and glared at Eman. “Where is she?!” he shouted, his giant nose flaring in anger.

  “I have hidden no one,” Eman replied, smiling softly at her.

  “We know she is here somewhere, and when we find her, you shall be executed for insubordination!” A hard knock at the door interrupted his tirade. When Deimos opened it, a third warrior stepped inside.

  “Sir, we apprehended two fugitives attempting to escape to Crocetta—a boy and a middle-aged man.” He motioned down the hill to where a warrior was shoving Mark and Alessio into the back of the wagon. “Are these the two His Highness is looking for?”

  “No, but throw them in the wagon anyway. Is there any sign of the girl?”

  “No, sir—just the men.”

  “Take this man along for questioning as well,” Deimos barked, pointing to Eman.

  Marisa bit her lip. She couldn’t allow them to take Eman instead of her. She crawled out from under the table. “I am here,” she announced with resignation.

  The warrior ignored her as he slapped the iron cuffs around Eman’s hands, shoving him outside.r />
  “Hey! Did you hear me?” she gestured, waving her arms at him. “I said I’m right here.”

  Eman looked at her, shaking his head as if her efforts were futile. He gave her a calm smile just before the door slammed shut and all of a sudden, the room was quiet.

  Stunned that the warriors hadn’t seen or heard her, Marisa stared in awe at the glowing amulet, hearing Eman’s voice speaking the words from the night before:

  Its light from within shall cloak you from evil eyes whenever you wear it. Those with an impure heart shall be blinded to your presence. She moved over to the tiny window and peered out.

  Down the hill, Deimos was shoving Eman into the back of a jail wagon. Alessio and Mark were already inside, handcuffed to wooden benches. Deimos signaled the driver and the wagon lumbered down the hill, pulled by four large horses and flanked by several warriors walking alongside it.

  She had to get to the citadel as quickly as possible. The sun was just about to come up, and she had to warn Darian. Grabbing one of Eman’s old tunics, she pulled it over her nightdress for extra warmth. Then she grabbed her cloak off the chair near the fire, slipped it on and moved toward the door.

  Pulling it shut behind her, she ran down the stone pathway. The wagon was already a considerable distance away, lumbering along noisily toward Beauriél and away from Crocetta. Perhaps it was a good thing that they weren’t going in the direction of the city. But where were they taking her uncle and Mark? Back to Abbadon?

  Spotting the human chain of warriors posted along the main road every few hundred feet, she figured it would be too risky to follow it back to the city. The warriors might not be able to see her, but they could still see her footprints. She ducked off into the pasture, moving off-road toward Crocetta.

  Running thirty feet or so parallel to the road, she panted, muttering in frustration when she realized how long it would take her to reach the citadel on foot. She pressed on, stopping every few minutes to catch her breath. Her feet and hands were nearly frozen by the time she finally reached the main gate at the citadel.

  Just as the sun was rising above the horizon, one of the palace guards on the rampart spotted her stumbling across the courtyard.

  Taking the stairs down two at a time, he reached her just as she collapsed from exhaustion outside the door of the Knight’s Hall.

  CHAPTER 15

  REVELATION

  She almost hated to wake him—he looked so peaceful as he slept. The blankets that had covered his broad shoulders for most of the night had since receded, leaving his muscular torso exposed. One arm was raised above his head, resting on the pillow. His tousled dark hair fell over his eyes, his jaw showing its five o’clock shadow. If the situation had not been so urgent, she could have stared at his male beauty for hours.

  “Darian—wake up,” she whispered finally, gently shaking his shoulder. “Please wake up.”

  “Marisa?” He raised an eyelid slowly, rubbing the other one with the heel of his hand. “What are you doing here?”

  “Savino’s men attacked us in the middle of the night. They took Mark, my uncle, and Eman!”

  “What?” He sat upright in bed, squinting at her from head to toe. “You are still in your nightgown. Did you come all this way on foot?”

  “Yes. I’ve been so scared.”

  “What happened?” he demanded.

  “Mark and my uncle escaped through the tunnel under the house, but they were soon captured. I was able to get away, but they followed my tracks to Eman’s house. They took him away too.”

  He threw off the covers and jumped out of bed. “There is not a moment to waste! We must inform the Crimson Court.”

  “It’s me they’re after—they kept asking if anyone had found ‘her.’ I’m the one that Savino wants.”

  “Do not worry, you are safe now.” He opened the cabinet, taking out a fresh linen shirt and pulling it over his head.

  “But what about the others? Where are they taking them?”

  He stopped, bothered. “How did Savino know you were staying at Castle Beauriél? No one outside the palace knew you were there.”

  “I don’t know. Someone must have told him.”

  Darian froze. “There is a traitor in the castle.”

  “Who?”

  He ran a nervous hand through his hair. “I do not know. But we must find out.”

  “Three times tonight the men looked straight at me, but they didn’t see me. I even yelled at one of them, but it was as if he couldn’t hear me.”

  “But you are not hurt?” he asked, fastening his tunic.

  “I’m fine. Did you hear what I just said?”

  “About what?”

  She sighed, exasperated. “I said that just before they came to arrest Eman, he told me that they couldn’t see me because I was wearing his amulet.” She held it up for him to see. “It saved my life.”

  He secured a belt around his waist, thinking. “If that is true, it might help us in flushing out the traitor.”

  “How?”

  “I have an idea. You go and get dressed while I summon the members of the Crimson Court. We must hurry. If your uncle and brother are on their way to Abbadon, they are already in serious danger.”

  Marisa stood in the small cloakroom of the Crimson antechamber, nervously biting her nails. Darian had asked her to wait while everyone else was being summoned to the adjacent hallway.

  Finally, he stepped in and closed the red velvet curtain separating the cloakroom from the chamber. “Are you ready?”

  “Ready for what? Are you going to tell me what we’re doing?”

  “I have thought of a way to discover whom we can trust.”

  “How?”

  “No one at the castle has been informed of the attack on Beauriél except for Tino and Bruno. All the others think that they have been summoned here to swear an oath of allegiance ahead of your coronation.”

  “Now? At this early hour? Isn’t that a little—unusual?”

  He shook his head. “No. But that is not the real reason they have been summoned.”

  “I still don’t understand.”

  “You shall remain hidden here while I call up each person individually. Once they are seated, you shall enter the chamber quietly, but say nothing. If they see you and acknowledge your presence, then we shall know they are loyal both to Garon and to us. If one of them cannot see you—”

  “We’ll have our traitor,” she said, finishing his sentence.

  “Are you ready?”

  “I guess.”

  He lifted her chin to meet his gaze. “I do not like this any more than you do, but it is necessary.” He kissed her softly on the cheek. “Shall we begin?”

  She nodded, stepping behind the velvet curtain.

  Darian waited until she had concealed herself before opening the door of the antechamber. “Lord Eliseo, please enter.”

  The short, portly man stood up and entered the room. He sat down at the table, watching Darian expectantly. As Marisa emerged from the closet and crept silently toward his chair, Eliseo stood up and bowed.

  “Kneel, please.”

  “Your Highness.” He dropped down on one knee, kissing her hand. “Your Royal Highness, this day I pledge to you my eternal allegiance upon penalty of death.”

  “Thank you, Lord Eliseo. It is my honor to command you.”

  The short man grinned proudly as he exited the chamber. Marisa smiled to herself and returned to the closet.

  “Baron Rufino, please enter.”

  The middle-aged, balding man bounced into the room and sat down, nervously tapping his fingers on his thigh.

  Slowly and silently she emerged from behind the curtain, moving directly in front of him.

  “Your Royal Highness,” Rufino squeaked, jumping out of his chair and kneeling down before her, taking her hand to kiss it. He stopped, his lips paused midair as if he had suddenly forgotten what he was supposed to say. “I—uh, pledge to you—my eternal allegiance—upon penalty of d
eath.”

  “Thank you, Baron Rufino. It is my honor to command you.”

  He stood to leave, exhaling a sigh of relief as he bounced out the door. Darian followed him, calling up the next one.

  Each of the other men was ushered in one at a time, and each time, they were all able to see her. She was starting to wonder if the plan would even work.

  “How many are still left?” she whispered.

  He peered through the slit in the door. “Only Lord Drago and the members of the household staff.”

  “You mean we’re gonna have to do all them as well?”

  “We must be certain they can be trusted.”

  She let out a heavy sigh and walked back into the closet.

  “Lord Drago, please enter.”

  She heard Darian asking him to be seated and waited, emerging a few seconds later. She moved toward him slowly, stopping directly in front of him. When there was no reaction from him, she leaned down close, speaking loudly.

  “Lord Drago, can you hear me?”

  The man didn’t respond but gazed lazily around the room, studying the paintings on the walls. He crossed one leg over the other and smoothed his mustache with his finger.

  “Sir, I ask you again, can you hear me?” She glanced at Darian. He was watching Drago with arms crossed, waiting for any reaction. His eyes met hers, and he shook his head sadly.

  She returned to the cloakroom and removed the amulet from her neck, emerging once again without it. Lord Drago rose from his chair to kiss her extended hand.

  “I pledge to you my eternal allegiance upon penalty of death.”

  “Thank you, Lord Drago.”

  He smiled and nodded, exiting into the main corridor.