The Carnelian Tyranny: Savino’s Revenge

by Cheryl Koevoet

  Control is an illusion.

  It was no coincidence that the man she had unknowingly been engaged to all those years ago was also the one who had found her. She had seen too much in her lifetime to be able to dismiss it all as sheer dumb luck. Her life was like a rubber raft racing through a series of Class 3 rapids, batting to and fro between the rocks toward some sort of bigger purpose that she didn’t quite understand yet. She was starting to wonder if she would be able to conquer it, or if it would beat her in the end.

  From someplace deep, she heard a comforting, familiar voice impressing words upon her heart. Marisa, I will never give you more than you can handle.

  She closed her eyes. But Garon, I don’t know what to do.

  Pray for wisdom, courage and peace that passes all understanding.

  Tears formed in her eyes. But I’m afraid of losing him.

  Do not be afraid. You are the hope for my purposes and you must have faith. Always trust; always love.

  Startled by a soft knock at the door, she rose from the bed and opened it to find her aunt standing there, her face creased with worry.

  “Your Highness, may I come in?” Cinzia pleaded.

  “Baroness! I mean Aunt Cinzia, please come in,” she said. “What is the matter?”

  “I am very concerned about Alessio. I cannot help thinking that something awful has happened to him.

  “He’ll be okay. I just know it.”

  “After all those years believing that my husband was dead, he came back to me and I was overjoyed beyond belief. But now I am right back where I was, fearing for his life all over again.”

  “I understand how you feel,” she said, wrapping her arms around her aunt. “The love of my life is leaving tonight, and I might never see him again. I guess all we can do is have faith that everything will work out the way it should.”

  Cinzia choked back a tear. “My dear Marisa, you are so much like your mother.”

  She brightened. “Really?”

  “Yes. Sometimes, when I look at you, I feel as if my good friend Elyse is standing next to me. And just like her, you possess wisdom far beyond your years.”

  “Well, I’ve had a pretty good teacher along the way. I don’t know how I would’ve made it without Uncle Al.” Her smile faded slightly as she thought about him.

  “I pray with all my heart that he has not been killed.”

  “He’s alive; I can feel it.”

  “It comforts me to hear that. I am so thankful that Garon has brought you back to us.”

  “So am I.”

  Noticing that the gate had been left open, Arrie approached the main entrance of Castle Beauriél with caution. He dismounted and slipped through the gate to check the small guard house. On the floor lay two guards with bluish-colored faces, both appearing as if they had been dead for several hours. He turned, forcing himself to look away from the grim sight.

  Leading Concrete down through the deep snow covering the driveway, his eyes scanned the castle grounds. An eerie silence hung in the air, as if the house was hiding some dark secret.

  He crossed the driveway circle and found another corpse lying on the ground, sprawled out at an unnatural angle with a long arrow protruding from its chest. The face and body were lightly dusted with snow, making it almost unrecognizable.

  Climbing the front steps to the oaken door, Arrie noticed that the lock had been broken and was slightly ajar. He pushed it open gently and peered inside, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

  Stepping inside, he shut the door behind him. No household staff and no guests. All of the hearth fires had burned out hours ago and the house seemed just as cold inside as the winter weather outside. A dog barked upstairs, causing him to jump with a start.

  Running up the stairs just as Jackson scurried down to meet him, he scooped up the frightened puppy into his arms, happy to see him unharmed by Savino’s men.

  “What happened here, Jackson?” he asked, stroking the puppy’s face and staring at him as if he could answer.

  Arrie entered the drawing room where the party had taken place less than twenty-four hours before, thinking about his father, Mark and Eman and hoping against all odds that they were still alive.

  In the soft glow of candlelight, Darian stood in the middle of the Knight’s Hall, his arms around Marisa. She was pressing her cheek against his breastplate, clinging tightly to him as if she would never let go. He took her hand and held it over his heart. “Marisa, I shall return. I promise.”

  “Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” she answered in a melancholy voice that echoed in the empty hall. A lone tear rolled down her cheek. He wiped it away.

  “Have you so little faith in my battle skills, dearest?”

  “No; I just know who you’re up against.”

  Pointing to the circle of swords high up on the wall with a blue coat-of-arms in its center, he cupped his hand under her chin and lifted it, forcing her to look him in the eye. “Do you see that ring up there? When I return, we shall place your sword amongst the others of the Fiore dynasty.”

  “I don’t have a sword.”

  “Then I shall have one made especially for you.”

  She gazed up at the wall, her eyes roaming the various blades that had belonged to centuries of Crocine monarchs before her. “I don’t deserve to have mine hung on that wall. I haven’t earned it.”

  “I am fully confident that you shall prove your worth very quickly. In fact,” he added, “I believe that you will soon become the greatest monarch there ever was in the history of Carnelia.”

  “If you’re not here with me, I don’t want my sword up there,” she answered glumly.

  “You must have faith. That which must happen shall happen before I can return to hold you in my arms again.”

  “But why now? Why not wait until morning and then leave?”

  He shook his head. “No sleep for us tonight. We ride through the night and will not stop for rest until tomorrow morning. Every second counts.”

  Releasing her arms from around his waist, her hand brushed his sword. “Oh, my father’s silver saber! Are you taking it with you into battle?”

  “Yes. Do you approve?”

  “Of course I do,” she said, wiping her damp cheeks. “It’s almost as if he was still with us.”

  “It is an exquisite weapon.”

  He ran his fingers over the smooth ridges of the handle, slowly unsheathing it to examine the blade. The thought of taking a piece of their family with him into battle comforted him somehow.

  “Darian, do you remember my father?”

  “A little,” he said, admiring the fine details on the hilt of the sword. “I still remember him carrying this everywhere and how fascinated I was by it.” He chuckled. “Now I suppose that he was just keeping it within easy reach should his future son-in-law ever cross his daughter.”

  A smile crept across her face but then faded slowly, her expression turning solemn. “He would’ve been so proud to call you his son-in-law. Do you know that?”

  “I know,” he said. “And I wish I would have had the opportunity to speak with him, man-to-man.”

  “Well, he obviously approved of you if he was willing to hand over his only daughter.”

  “Not that he had much of a choice. It was either me or Savino, and that does not instill much confidence.”

  “My parents would have chosen you even if there had been a thousand Fiore princes to choose from,” she replied, touching his nose with her finger and gazing at him lovingly. Just then, the citadel bells began to peal in the tower high above them, marking the evening hour of six o’clock.

  He looked at her and sighed. “We really must be going now. And, upon my return, I shall attend your coronation. That shall sustain me with all the hope that I need.”

  Her gaze fell to the floor. “I’ve been such an idiot. You know I really do want to marry you, don’t you?”

  “Just knowing you are here waiting for me is enough. You shall choose the dat
e as soon as you are ready.”

  “But I’m ready now.”

  He grinned. “There’s no time, my love, and besides, our circumstances demand that it be an elaborate, royal wedding.”

  “Then what do you say to getting married on your birthday? That way, you can still keep your promise to your mother.”

  “How do you know about that?” he asked, stunned by her remark. His eyes rolled as he shook his head in realization. “Of course, Adalina.”

  She smiled knowingly.

  “That only gives us eight months to prepare,” he said. “Will it be enough?”

  “Believe me—it’s gonna be way too long for me.” She gazed at him with a sheepish smile. “I should have married you the first day you proposed. After all, we have been engaged for eighteen years now.”

  He smiled sweetly at her. “Farewell, Maraya. I shall think of you every day and dream of you every night.”

  Leaning down to kiss her, he felt tied to her by an invisible bond so strong it could never be broken. He wasn’t even gone yet, but already he missed the softness of her hair, her sultry voice, and her dazzling smile.

  He stepped back to admire her one last time, staring solemnly into her olive-tinged eyes. Then he turned to lead her out into the courtyard, the sober thought that he might never return suddenly plaguing his mind.

  And when he gazed upon the army of more than one thousand souls waiting for him to lead them into battle, he swallowed the lump in his throat and raised his chin in defiance.

  Marisa glanced around in awe at the gathering of men and horses saddled up, preparing themselves for combat. It was a remarkable collection of warriors, knights and what appeared to be regular, ordinary men. The noblemen wore tailored suits of black armor and rode on horses draped in their family colors and crests.

  Shields, swords, daggers, crossbows and all sorts of strange weapons that Marisa had never seen before were strapped to the men’s backs. Weapons which could mean the difference between life and death for these men. Her heart sank in the knowledge that some would never come back to the families waiting patiently for them to return.

  Watching Darian’s graceful, masculine frame mount Obsidian with ease, she choked back a sob, fighting against the tide of tears that threatened to erupt. Somehow she was unable to shake the horrid feeling that it was the last time they would ever see each other.

  He turned to look at her one last time, his eyes lingering on hers until at last his lips mouthed the words ‘I love you.’ He tugged on Obsidian’s reigns and dug his heels in, leading the army down toward the main gate of the castle. Lady Matilda followed behind on a dapple-gray horse while Bruno flanked her on a chocolate brown mare. The dull, clopping noise of horses’ hooves on the snow-covered cobblestones filled the air as Marisa moved over to stand between Cinzia and Adalina.

  Cozimo, Tino, Adalina and Helena lifted their hands to the departing army with a solemn wave. Marisa reached down and took Adalina’s hand, giving it a squeeze and praying a silent prayer that all the men would return home again safely. A horrible, sinking feeling spread through her chest as she wondered how she could even continue to breathe now that half of her body had been ripped away.

  CHAPTER 17

  ANDRE

  Arrie wandered into the kitchen, searching for something in which to transport Jackson back to Crocetta. In the corner, there was a large basket with a lid. He placed it on the table and lifted the puppy into it, lowering the lid.

  He froze.

  Somewhere in the distance, there was a low rumbling sound of horse’s hooves pounding the road. Straining to listen, his carefree expression transformed into one of concern. He had to get out of there before Savino’s men returned to Beauriél.

  He closed the oaken door behind him and hurried over to Concrete. Quickly mounting him, Arrie held the basket firmly under his arm as he dug his heels into the horse’s belly. The horse kicked up bits of snow as it galloped up the long driveway toward the main road.

  As the thunder of hoof beats grew louder, Arrie stopped his horse just short of the wrought-iron gate and quickly glanced around. Among the barren winter landscape of the grounds, the evergreen trees and shrubs lining the driveway still seemed dense enough to hide a man and his horse.

  He dismounted, leading Concrete off the driveway and into the trees. Peering out through the small gaps between the branches, he prayed that they could not be seen from the road. As the army of men and horses neared the entrance of Beauriél, he spotted a familiar face. Lord Domenico was riding beside Darian in the lead with Matilda and Bruno riding just behind them.

  Arrie emerged from the bushes and opened the gate.

  “Lord Arrigo!” Darian called, bringing Obsidian to a stop. “I am so happy we got to see you before we left.”

  “Likewise, Sire,” he said, strolling over to meet them.

  “Whoa.”

  Darian dismounted and took him aside, his brow furrowed with worry. “The situation is much worse than I had previously expressed to Her Highness and both of our families,” he said in a low voice so the others couldn’t hear. “I did not want them to worry. But you and I both know that I might never return.”

  “Nonsense, cousin. There is not a better warrior in all of Crocetta. You are too modest about your skills on the battlefield.”

  Darian’s eyes locked on his. “You know that I have looked on you as my own brother all these years and I trust you with my life. Swear to me now that, should anything happen to me, you will be there for Marisa and take care of her.”

  “I shall pray for your safe return, Sire.”

  “Promise me you will take care of her in every possible way.”

  Arrie studied his cousin’s face, knowing exactly what he was asking of him. “I shall, I promise,” he said soberly.

  Darian pulled him into a tight embrace. “Thank you, my brother. Pray for Garon’s mercy on us for a safe return.” He nodded solemnly at Arrie before mounting Obsidian to continue the march.

  Arrie bowed to him, waving as the long procession moved forward. Once all the men in the brigade had passed, he mounted Concrete and headed back toward Crocetta, anxious to reach the safety of the citadel before it got dark.

  Remembering his promise to Darian, he prayed that it would be one duty he would never need to fulfill.

  That evening after dinner, Helena suggested that they retire to the Jade Room for refreshments. Adalina, Arrie, Cinzia and Tino sat down to play a game of cards, but Marisa sat silently in front of the fire, staring sadly into the flames.

  When she saw the angst in her future daughter-in-law’s eyes, Helena moved from her chair to sit down next to her. “Your Highness, please do not worry. My son is a superb warrior. Not only is he physically strong, but he is mentally strong; much like my André was.”

  “What was Darian’s father like?” Marisa asked quietly.

  “He was a very private person, a quiet and humble man. When I first met him, I thought he was arrogant, but I was wrong. There was never a more selfless nor giving man in this world.”

  “He sounds a lot like Darian.”

  Helena nodded. “Although your grandfather was nearly fifteen years older than Darian’s father, he still came to my husband whenever he needed counsel about something. It was always my André who was his voice of reason.”

  “Darian’s father was his advisor?”

  Helena nodded. “Your grandfather, Cerrino Fiore, was a passionate king and well-loved by the people, but André kept his brother tethered to the real world, content to remain in the royal shadows. He never desired the burden of responsibility that comes with the throne.”

  “So there was never any rivalry between them?”

  “There is always a small amount of rivalry between brothers of royalty. But the fact that Cerrino was years older probably dissolved any bitterness that might have existed.”

  “Oh.”

  “The only cause for jealousy on my husband’s part was the fact that he never knew
his father the way Cerrino did. King Petrus died when André was just a boy and it impacted him for the rest of his life. Just as the death of Darian’s father has also affected him.”

  “I wish I could have met Prince André. From what I’ve heard from Darian, he sounds like an incredible man.”

  “Indeed, he was. I miss him every single day. He would be so proud of both Darian and Adalina now. Darian was but fifteen when André died.”

  “How did you meet him?”

  She smiled. “From the day I was born, we had an arranged marriage. But I did not even know this until after we had already met.”

  “You were engaged to him before you met?

  “Yes.” She laughed. “I was young, only eighteen when we were introduced at my birthday ball. He was ten years older, but oh, so handsome and dashing!”

  “Just like Darian.”

  She nodded. “Apparently he was smitten with me from that very first night, but I did not discover it until much later. As I said before, he was a shy man, although at the time I decided that it was arrogance. In truth, it was a wonder that he ever gathered up the courage to even speak to me. I loved him from the first moment I saw him. But I thought that André was not at all interested in me.”

  “Hmm, sounds somewhat familiar,” Marisa joked.

  “The Fiore men are all alike.” She smiled, shaking her head. “In any case, we were happily married for almost twenty years. My life shattered the day I heard he was dead.”

  “Darian told me about it. That must have been awful.”

  Her eyes grew distant, remembering that horrible day. “I had no reason left to live save our two young children.” She glanced over at Adalina, watching her laugh from just having beat Arrie with a winning hand. “They are all that have kept me going sometimes in my life.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Marisa whispered.

  She laid a hand across Marisa’s, her face brightening. “Do not worry about Darian. He can take care of himself. The two of you shall be together again in less than a fortnight.”

  Marisa shook her head. “I’m just not used to the possibility of losing a loved one in battle. Especially one so close to my heart. Most people I’ve known who’ve passed away were all elderly or sick.”