The Carnelian Tyranny: Savino’s Revenge

by Cheryl Koevoet

  “Your Highness, I am sorrier than I can say. He was like a brother to me and I shall miss him greatly.” His gaze fell to the floor.

  She sank into a chair, her face dropping into her hands. Short, shallow breaths turned into hiccups as she struggled to take in enough air. After a few moments, she wiped her cheeks with her skirt, struggling to compose herself.

  “How—how—do I tell Helena?” she moaned between hiccupped sobs. “I—I can’t. It will—kill her.”

  “Then do not tell her yet, Your Highness. Instead, wait for the right moment. I cannot tell you when that will be, but you shall know.”

  “I—I have to tell Arrie.”

  He nodded. “Let us go now.”

  The trio had only been on the ship for a couple of days and already Mark was bored. Although it was cloudy and the air was crisp, they’d gotten lucky with the weather. He was glad that it had stayed dry, making it possible to pass the time up on deck. Celino had mentioned something about having the wind at their backs, which meant that they were sailing faster than normal. Good, maybe they’d reach land sooner.

  “Marcus, shall I teach you how to play cards?” Adalina asked, interrupting his thoughts.

  Startled, he straightened up, feeling the warmth rise to his cheeks. He hated the way his face flushed whenever there was a cute girl around. And Adalina Fiore sure was pretty. The guys in his class back home would have fallen over themselves just to talk to her. He kept having to remind himself that she was his cousin. But, then again, she was a distant cousin.

  She clasped her hands in front of her, smiling expectantly. There was a prolonged, awkward silence before he remembered that she had just asked him a question.

  “Oh, yeah, sure, Your Highness. Sounds like fun.”

  “Dear Marcus, I have told you before that you do not need to address me so formally,” she said, lightly touching his arm. “You and I are the same rank, remember? Please call me Adalina.”

  “Uh, that’s right, Adalina. I guess you did.” He chuckled. “I guess I just can’t get used to this royalty stuff. I’ve always been plain old Mark to my friends.”

  “Indeed.”

  He smiled nervously, watching her watching him. There was another awkward pause as he tried to think of something to say.

  “So, do you want to play?”

  “Play what?”

  She giggled. “Cards.”

  He gave her a sheepish grin. “Oh, yeah, right. Uh—”

  “We would have to go down into the ship, though,” she said, interrupting. “If we played up here, the cards would all blow away.”

  “Um, do you mind if we stay up here on deck for a while since it’s not raining?” He avoided her eyes, kicking the toe of his boot against the railing. “Maybe you can teach me to play cards some other time.”

  “Certainly. Whatever you wish,” Adalina answered, her dark eyes twinkling in amusement. “I only offered since you seemed bored.”

  “You make everything more interesting.” He gazed at her as he said it, appreciating the delicate lines of her face when he noticed the corners of her lips curling upward into an amused smile. Only then did he realize that he had actually said what he was thinking out loud.

  She must think I’m a total idiot!

  “What a perfectly nice thing to say.”

  Rolling his eyes at the stupidity of his words, Mark stared out across the waves, trying to think of something witty to make her laugh. When nothing came to mind, he leaned against the railing, tapping his foot nervously. He was trying to glance at her sideways without her noticing when Celino’s head popped up between them.

  “So, are you two kiddies having fun yet?”

  Mark’s smile faded. “It’s epic.” The moment was gone.

  “Do you know that this is the farthest I can ever remember being away from home?” she remarked.

  “Have you never been to Terracina?”

  “Not that I can remember. I was there a few times as a baby.”

  “Well, this is the farthest I’ve been away from home too,” Mark said, staring out at the water. “And I’m starting to miss it.”

  “Tell me about your world, Marcus,” she said wistfully. “From everything I have learned from Celino, it sounds like a wonderful place. I would love to visit sometime.”

  Feeling Celino’s eyes boring into the back of his head, Mark turned slowly, motioning that he wanted some alone time with her. Celino grinned, giving him the thumbs-up sign before moving down just far enough to stay within earshot.

  “Earth is pretty cool, but your world is neat too. It’s hard to explain, though, what the differences are. I mean, obviously we speak different languages and the clothes here are sorta weird, but the people aren’t really that different from where I’m from.”

  “When a man is interested, how does he let a woman know?”

  He did a double-take. “Uh, well, if a guy is interested in a girl, he asks her on a date.” He sure didn’t see that coming.

  “What is a ‘date’?”

  Distracted by the way her luscious lips moved as she spoke, he didn’t pay attention to what she was asking. “Sorry, what was the question?”

  She smiled, displaying a row of perfect teeth. “I asked you, what is a ‘date’?”

  He hesitated. “Well, it can be lots of different stuff. Maybe he takes her out to dinner, or to see a movie, or they go dancing at a club.”

  “What is a moo-veee?”

  “A movie is—oh, gosh…” He exhaled a puff of air, considering her question. How could one describe a movie to someone on Carnelia? “It’s a story played out by actors dressed in costumes, and there is music, and they act it out. People go and watch it on a big screen.”

  He studied her face, unsure of whether or not she understood.

  “We have plays in Crocetta every so often. Is it like those?”

  “Um, yeah, something like that,” he said, bobbing his head from side to side. “Except that people aren’t acting it out live. It’s filmed on a movie set with music and special effects added later to give it added drama.”

  “It sounds wonderful.”

  “I can be. But it’s a real bummer when you’ve blown a whole wad of cash on a rotten movie.”

  “Will you take me to a movie someday? I would like to see one with you.”

  “I’d love to take you to a movie,” Mark confessed, admiring her beautiful smile. “And out to dinner and dancing.”

  “What a pity we cannot dance now,” she said wistfully. “I should have liked very much to dance on my birthday.”

  He looked at her, stunned. “Today’s your birthday?”

  She nodded slowly, staring out at the waves. “My brother had promised to throw me a ball to celebrate, but with all that has happened lately, it was just sort of forgotten.”

  “Gosh, Adalina. Happy Birthday.”

  She smiled weakly. “Thank you.”

  So that’s why she seems a bit distant. Maybe it isn’t me.

  He watched the nose of the ship rise and fall as it met resistance from the waves, feeling sorry for her. Although he hadn’t known it was her birthday, he did know how much she was looking forward to that ball. He took a step back, bowing awkwardly to her.

  “Adalina, would you like to dance?”

  She turned from the handrail and glanced at him, a smile creeping across her lips. “Here? Now?”

  Mark nodded.

  “But there is no music,” she said.

  “Pretend there is an orchestra at the bow. May I?”

  Not waiting for her answer, he offered her the crook of his arm and led her to the middle of the deck. Then he slipped his hand around her waist, taking her hand in the other. The two of them began to sway slowly as a few of the crew members stopped to watch.

  “I do not know this dance,” she said softly. “But it is nice.”

  “Happy Sweet Sixteen, Adalina,” he whispered in her ear.

  “Thank you.”

  Detecting th
e faintest glimmer of admiration in her eyes, he smiled and drew her closer, resting his cheek on the top of her head.

  Celino leaned over the railing and stared out at the water, trying to hide the silly grin on his face.

  Those were the days.

  By the time he had reached the outskirts of Abbadon, Darian was drained of all his energy. The pain from his wound had been plaguing him for several hours and he desperately needed to rest.

  The people milling about on the city streets gawked at the tall stranger in the Crimson Star uniform, probably wondering what a Paladin Knight was doing so far away from Crocetta and all by himself. He approached the main entrance of Abbadon Castle, peering into the courtyard from atop his horse.

  Slowly dismounting, he limped over to the gate and craned to see into the guard house, but there was no sign of anyone. He banged the hilt of his sword against the gate, calling out to the young man who was coming towards him. The lone soldier appeared somewhat unsure of himself as he approached the gate.

  A skinny lad of no more than eighteen, he wore a uniform three sizes too big which clanked loudly with each step he took. By the way he wielded his sword, Darian could tell that he wasn’t an experienced warrior. “Soldier, let me in.”

  “Who are ye?” the young man asked, pointing a dagger at him through the bars of the portcullis. “State yer perpuss.”

  “I am Prince Darian Fiore of Crocetta and I have come to negotiate with Count da Rocha for the prisoners. Would you please be so kind as to take me to him?”

  The soldier froze for a few seconds before dropping into a low bow. “Fergive me, Yer Highness,” he began. “But there be no one ’ere. There be no prisners ’ere, either.”

  Darian stopped. “What do you mean? Where is Count da Rocha? Where are his warriors?”

  “He be gone to Crocetta with ’is men for ’is coronation.”

  “His coronation?”

  The man nodded. “There be only me and one other ’ere keepin’ the castle until they ree-turn.”

  “I see,” he answered, digesting that slowly.

  Realizing that Savino had invaded Crocetta with Marisa and all the others still there, he suddenly felt sick to his stomach. He prayed that they were all still alive. “Soldier, what is your name?”

  “Terzo, Sire.”

  “Terzo, I am in desperate need of shelter. Please open the gate so that I may come in.”

  “My orders be not to let anyone in—”

  “I have no wish to harm you,” he said, pleading gently. “I only ask for simple charity and compassion so that I may tend to my wound and then I shall leave you in peace. Please open the gate.”

  Terzo’s eyes dropped down to his wounded leg, resting there for a moment before finally shrugging to himself. He stepped over to the guard house and used all his strength to turn the giant wheel. The iron portcullis screeched in protest, clanging loudly as it slowly disappeared into the gap between the stones high above them.

  “Thank you, Terzo,” Darian said, limping as he led Obsidian to the stables. “I shall never forget this.”

  “Oh, Yer Highness?” Terzo called, stopping him. “Ere be only one other member of the ’ousehold staff still left in the castle. Tell ’im who ye be and ’e shall attend to ye.”

  Nodding in thanks, Darian quickly secured Obsidian in one of the stalls and removed his sword from his saddle, strapping it to his side. Gently coaxing the horse to drink from the trough, he stroked his soft mane and gazed around the high stone walls, remembering the last time he had been there with Marisa and Arrie. He had left with a bitter, angry feeling in his gut after Savino had proposed marriage to Marisa.

  Knowing that she was in grave danger now, his every step took on a sense of urgency. Once his leg had been attended to, he would return to Crocetta as soon as possible. Even if he turned right around and started toward home that same afternoon, it would still take him a couple of days to reach the city.

  His body felt as if all its strength had been sucked out and, to his dismay, he smelled wretched. A hot bath was exactly what he needed. With a labored gait, he limped up to the fortress. The massive main door had been left unlocked and he opened it to enter the main foyer. Recognizing the familiar hallway that led to the dining room, he walked down the dark corridor knowing that the kitchen must be somewhere close by. He winced from the pain in his right thigh, hobbling down the stairs on his good leg as best he could.

  Finding the kitchen, he spotted some stale bread and moldy cheese that had been left out on the counter. He grabbed it and began eating, not caring that it tasted off. Spotting some fruit in a bowl, he gobbled it down in just a few bites. He searched the cupboards for a goblet, but when he heard someone behind him he spun around.

  A tall, lanky teenager stood in the doorway with an armful of firewood, sizing him up. He dropped the wood onto the floor, lunging for the knife on the counter. In the way he pointed it at him, Darian could tell that the young man had been well-trained in the ancient Carnelian art of dagger-dueling.

  CHAPTER 24

  LORIS

  “How did you get in here?” the boy demanded.

  “I have no wish to duel you, my young friend,” Darian answered, raising his hands in surrender. The boy’s angry expression transformed into one of fear. He set the knife down slowly, raising his hands in the air.

  “Forgive me, Your Highness, I did not recognize you.”

  “You know who I am?”

  “Yes,” he said, pointing to his chest. “You bear the royal crest.”

  Darian peered down at his breastplate. This young man is well-trained, smart and observant.

  “What is your name, squire?”

  “Loris, Sire.”

  Darian moved up closer to inspect the lanky boy, on his guard in case he was a traitor for Savino. With shaggy brown hair and light brown eyes, he couldn’t have been more than fifteen or sixteen.

  “Tell me, Loris, can you help me by getting some hot bathwater, a needle and some thread? I need to get cleaned up and then rest for a little while.”

  “Yes, Sire. It would be an honor.” He nodded and ran off.

  Darian poured himself a cup of wine from a bottle in the cupboard and took a sip. He needed to think about his next move and what to do about Savino. When the boy returned a few minutes later with the needle and thread, Darian watched him build a fire.

  “So where has everyone gone? Why are you still here, Loris?”

  “Well, His Royal Highness Savino da Rocha has gone to Crocetta to claim his throne, and everyone else went with him. I was left here to take care of the castle until they return,” he said proudly.

  “When will that be?”

  He shrugged. “I do not know. I was only told that he would be crowned king within the week and that he would return sometime after. I took this post at my uncle’s insistence that it would be decent pay for little work.”

  “Who is your uncle?”

  “Lord Raniero. Perhaps you have heard of him, Sire?”

  Darian’s goblet froze in midair. “The name is familiar, but I cannot quite recall his face,” he answered slowly.

  “My uncle has been gone for several years. He only just recently returned. We all thought that he had been lost when the Carnelian sank, but, fortunately, he survived the shipwreck and swam to a foreign shore.” He pumped the bellows onto the flames and then hung a kettle of water on the metal hook to let it boil.

  “Where is Lord Raniero now?” Darian asked, wincing as he lowered himself into a chair.

  “He has gone to Crocetta,” Loris said cheerfully. “A couple months ago, he offered me the job of caretaker of the castle. My father is dead, so I need anything I can get to support my mother.”

  Darian suspected that his uncle had not told him everything and wondered if he knew what a monster his master was.

  “Loris, have you ever heard of Princess Maraya Fiore?”

  He stood up and dusted off his hands, pausing to think for a moment before f
inally shaking his head. “No, Sire. Who is she?”

  “She is the daughter of Queen Elyse Fiore and the rightful heir. She has been in exile for many years, but, by the grace of Garon, has recently returned to Crocetta.”

  Loris stopped poking the fire. “But what about His Majesty Savino da Rocha?”

  He studied the boy’s freckly face. Savino had obviously been hiding the truth from everyone, including his own staff. “Whatever your uncle may have told you about Count da Rocha, he is not the rightful heir. He has taken Crocetta illegally and by force.”

  “But how is my uncle involved in all this?”

  “That I do not know, but I fully intend to uncover the truth. I can only pray that the princess is safe and that Savino has not killed her yet.” Suddenly, he was feeling exhausted. “And now, Loris, I really must rest for a while. I apologize for making you go to the extra trouble of preparing the water, but the bath will have to wait.”

  “Of course, Your Highness. It’s no trouble. Please follow me.”

  Darian leaned on him, limping up the stairs one foot at a time. He recognized the same guest quarters where he had slept so many times before. The chamber was luxuriously appointed but this time, he would not enjoy it knowing that Marisa was still in danger.

  Loris deposited him on the bed and turned to leave. “I shall be downstairs if you need anything, Sire,” he said, closing the door softly.

  Darian removed the cloth tied around his thigh, groaning when he saw the size of the wound. He took the needle, noticing his hand shaking as he tried to thread it. Rolling up a piece of cloth, he inserted it into his mouth and bit down, the pain almost unbearable as he stitched the edges of flesh shut. He wrapped a clean cloth around it and sank back onto the bed, his head aching something awful as his head hit the pillow. Within minutes, he drifted off and began to snore softly.

  When Darian awoke again, he saw that it was dark outside. How long had he been asleep? He must have dozed off just after he had stitched his wound shut. Peering through the windows into the city streets, he couldn’t see anyone. The castle was deathly quiet as he climbed back into bed, and he imagined that it was probably sometime after three in the morning.