The Carnelian Tyranny: Savino’s Revenge

by Cheryl Koevoet

  “I have a feeling you will be an even better monarch than she was. And she was the finest queen in generations.”

  She released his hand, smiling contentedly as they continued their stroll along the wall. And as she enjoyed the fresh air and magnificent view across the sea of trees and white-capped mountains, a calm sense of peace washed over her for the first time in months.

  And for several minutes, neither of them spoke as they both enjoyed the contented silence that always seems to follow an incident of reconciliation. Savino was the first one to break the silence.

  “I do not suppose that you would reconsider marrying me? I mean the real me?” he asked as a naughty smile crept across his lips.

  She laughed. “Savino! Really?”

  “So, your answer is no again?” He shrugged in mock disappointment. “Well, I could only assume that our engagement was serious since you did give me a ring, after all…”

  “What ring?”

  “This ring.” He held it up for her to see.

  “Oh!” She laughed, taking it from him. “That ring!”

  It was the one from Darian’s collection that she had exchanged for the Carnelian ring while he was asleep. When he smiled at her, his eyes were flirtatious.

  “Somehow, I do not think my cousin would be amused to discover that his fiancée was, in fact, engaged to his cousin using his own Crimson Academy ring.”

  “No, he would not be amused!” She laughed. “After all we’ve been through, I’m afraid he’s never gonna let me out of his sight. In fact, he’ll probably put the old ball and chain on me the second we’re married!”

  “I think it is marvelous. I, for one, shall be happy to see the two of you married. By the way, just when is that to be?”

  “His birthday—the thirtieth of the eighth month.”

  “That only gives you what—seven months? Will it be enough to plan a royal wedding?”

  “I sure hope so, because, otherwise, we’re gonna elope!”

  He pulled her into a warm embrace. “Thank you for listening, dearest cousin. And for your friendship which I shall always treasure. For what you have done for me and for this country I shall always be grateful, and I shall endeavor to earn your trust and respect in full.”

  She cocked her head at him. “Even though I did kill you?”

  “Yes, well, I shall grant you a do-over for that one. Just do not ever do it again.”

  She giggled. “That’s worth more to me than you’ll ever know. I am so honored to call you my cousin.”

  “And, now, I think perhaps I should take you inside before you become sick again and are forced to miss your coronation tomorrow. I do not want to be the one to explain to Darian why his betrothed is sick and cannot be crowned.”

  As they approached the stone arch leading to the Knight’s Hall, he opened the door for her, bowing respectfully.

  “See you tomorrow, dear cousin.” He paused. “Oh dear. After tomorrow, I shall not be able to call you that anymore.” His tall, broad frame strode down the corridor, his step lighter than it had been in many months.

  “You may always call me cousin,” she answered over her shoulder. “Good night, Count da Rocha!”

  “What was that all about?” Darian asked.

  She jumped. “Oh! Why are you always sneaking up on me?”

  “Force of habit. What did Savino want?”

  “Do I detect a note of jealousy, Mr. Fiore?”

  He shrugged. “I have the right to know with whom my future wife is occupying her time.”

  “Oh. In that case, he asked if I’d reconsider marrying him.”

  “What!?”

  When the servant polishing the sconces down the hall turned to stare, Marisa giggled at the woman’s startled expression.

  “It seems that I was briefly engaged to Savino.” She placed his Academy ring into the palm of his hand and watched in amusement as he stared down at it with a puzzled expression.

  “What! You two were engaged? With my ring?”

  “Oh, I’m just teasing, Darian. We aren’t really engaged. It’s a long story and maybe I’ll tell you about it sometime when we need a good laugh. In all seriousness, though, I need to get some sleep. Tomorrow’s a big day, after all.”

  “That it is. One I’ve been waiting for all my life. Come, I shall walk you back to your chambers.”

  They ascended the grand staircase leading up to the royal apartments. Marisa walked slowly, taking a few moments to admire the royal portraits hanging along the walls. She stopped when she came to the life-sized painting of her mother that had been completed just before her coronation.

  “I guess this means I’ll have to have my portrait done as well?”

  “Of course,” he answered. “You are a member of the royal family, after all. We shall have one commissioned.”

  She looked around, puzzled. “Why don’t I see one of yours here? Everyone else seems to be here except you. Why is that? Camera shy?”

  “It is really rather silly, to be honest.”

  “This I gotta hear. Why isn’t there a portrait of you here?”

  He smiled at her sheepishly. “I never wanted to have a painting of myself standing up there alone—immortalized on canvas for posterity for hundreds of years. So, I told myself that I would wait until I found the right woman and married her so that we could have one done together.”

  “And if you never married?”

  “Then I would never have a portrait up on that wall.”

  She kissed him softly. “Has anyone ever told you that you are quite the romantic, Darian Fiore?”

  He shrugged, embarrassed. “It is not romantic—it is just the way I feel.”

  “Whatever,” she said, smiling at him.

  They headed upstairs, stopping just outside the door of her chambers. He took her in his arms, slowly wrapping a soft wave of chestnut hair that cascaded over her shoulder around his finger.

  “I am so thankful to have you back alive, safe and sound. I don’t ever want to quarrel again,” he said.

  “Well, that’s bound to happen anyway, but I agree with the general sentiment.” She stopped, turning serious. “But I won’t take you for granted ever again. My heart was shattered when I thought you were dead. There was no hope left in me, but Eman put it back at a time when I needed it the most. I’ll always be grateful to him for what he did.”

  “We are all grateful to him,” he said. “And, now, I must leave you so you can be rested for the biggest day of your life.”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. “That will be on your birthday.”

  His eyes twinkled as he kissed her. “Good night. I shall see you again in the morning. Sleep well.”

  “Good night,” she whispered, closing the door.

  Spotting her dress and coronation robes hanging near the window, she walked over and stroked its thick softness. She ran her fingers across the plum velvet, suddenly realizing that it was the same fabric that covered her mother’s diary. She thought about how pleased and proud her parents would have been.

  As she slipped on her nightgown and crawled into bed, her mind raced with questions about what the next day, month and year would bring. But then she remembered Eman’s simple, reassuring words to her about tomorrow taking care of itself and she drifted off to sleep knowing that she would never have to face the future alone.

  CHAPTER 42

  INAUGURATION

  The next morning, there was a flurry of activity at the palace like none Marisa had ever seen. Everywhere she looked, there were palace servants scurrying around, making sure that all the preparations for the coronation would be completed on time.

  She received a steady stream of visitors in her room throughout the morning—most of them family members and friends coming to wish her well. After lunch, Matilda and Adalina came to help her dress for the coronation that was set to begin at three o’clock.

  “So, Adalina, tell us all about Terracina,” Marisa said. “You were there for severa
l weeks and I want to know what you’ve been doing all this time.”

  “Well, let us just say that I was not lacking in male company while I stayed at King Bertoldo’s palace,” she said, beaming.

  “Tell us!” Matilda squealed.

  Marisa smiled knowingly. “You saw Gervasio, didn’t you?”

  “Yes. We spent several hours discussing things and decided that it was best if we continued to live separate lives.”

  “And?”

  “That is all. Nothing happened.”

  “So what male company are you referring to then?” Matilda prodded.

  “Well, the men in Terracina do know how to flatter a woman. I never had to lift a finger to do anything—there was always some handsome young man jumping up to help me.”

  Marisa looked at her skeptically. “You’re a Crocine princess, Adalina. And a beautiful one, too. The men there are all fully aware of your situation and something tells me you’ll never be lacking in male admirers.”

  “Maybe I should go to Terracina.” Matilda giggled.

  “You have absolutely nothing to complain about, Mattie,” Marisa countered. “Bruno is an amazing man and the two of you are perfect for each other.”

  “Yes, I know; I was only joking. It is a miracle that he survived the slaughter and I thank Garon that he did.”

  Marisa nodded in agreement. “He went through a lot these past few weeks and I can tell he loves you. He is certainly a keeper.” She glanced at the time and jumped. “But you girls have got to help me get ready ’cause I’m on in just a little more than an hour!”

  The three of them chatted and giggled as they helped Marisa dress for the coronation. Matilda combed out her long, wavy hair and worked it into a half-up, half-down hairstyle that would accommodate the crown perfectly.

  And when the time came, Matilda and Adalina carefully brought her gown to her and helped her step into it. The plum velvet dress complimented her peachy complexion and her hazel brown eyes. The gown fit her long, slender curves snugly, accentuating her slim waist and flattering her hips with its gentle flare and cathedral train. The square neckline was edged with Crocine lace and the bust panel encrusted with hundreds of tiny amethysts that sparkled. She slipped on the necklace and earring set she had received from Darian on her eighteenth birthday and wore the slippers that had been made especially for her on that occasion.

  She smoothed down the dress in front of her full-length mirror, feeling the softness of the very same velvet that had covered her mother’s diary. She glanced at her reflection and smiled. Only a week ago, she had never dreamed that this day would even be possible. And she had to pinch herself to make sure it was not a dream. Forty-five minutes later, Cinzia knocked on her door, peeking in to see how things were progressing. Studying her niece in her coronation dress, she sucked in her breath.

  “Oh, Your Highness, you look so—so, regal!”

  “Thanks, Aunt Cinzia. How much time do we have left?”

  “They have asked me to come and collect you. We need to start down in five minutes.”

  As Adalina and Matilda hurried around tweaking her dress here and pulling the train there, Marisa gazed out at the mountains in quiet contemplation. Although she still had twinges of homesickness for Jacksonville once in a while, Carnelia was her home now. It was where she belonged. And it was to this place that she owed her duty for the rest of her life. The burden of responsibility was heavy, but with the help and hope that came from Garon, Eman, family and, of course, Darian, it already seemed lighter.

  The bells in the citadel tower pealed loudly, ringing out for the entire kingdom to hear. Cinzia and Matilda walked in front of her while Adalina walked behind to help carry her train. With every step she took, she felt another step closer to the parents who had done their best to prepare her for this day. Though neither of them was there to see her coronation, she carried them both in her heart, and it was enough.

  As they descended the last steps and entered the corridor leading to the Knight’s Hall, Marisa saw Darian at the other end, smiling pleasantly and, as always, waiting patiently.

  Dressed in the dark blue formal uniform of a Crimson Knight, he smiled at her, giving her a wink that said he loved her. His charcoal silver breastplate flashed as he lifted his hand to her. She took it gracefully. Bowing formally to her, he turned the handle on the door but then stopped, gazing at her with a solemn face.

  “Although neither of us knew what we would be forced to endure before arriving at this point, I can honestly say that I would face it all again for you,” he said in a whisper. “I am deeply honored to be your witness here today and I am so happy that your time has finally come, my lovely Maraya.”

  He raised her hand, kissing it softly.

  She smiled at him lovingly as Cinzia, Matilda and Adalina moved to take their places in front of her. Darian stepped in just behind them. The door was opened and a symphony of music erupted from the organ bay. A wave of commotion rippled through the hall as everyone in it rose to honor their Queen.

  As she walked down the long aisle that lead to the platform, she looked into the sea of faces smiling back at her. So many of them she had come to know as friends in the short time she had been in Carnelia.

  When they neared the front, Matilda and Cinzia took their places in the front bench next to Alessio, Mark and Loris. It was then that she turned and saw her uncle fighting the tears that threatened to erupt from his eyes. Her lip quivered and she smiled, thinking about how much she loved him and how much he had done for her over the last several years. He winked back at her as if to say how proud he was of her.

  Adalina and Darian took their places on the other side next to Helena and Tino. Marisa smiled at her future mother-in-law, noting with pleasure the pride in her eyes. When Darian smiled broadly at her and gave her another wink, she stifled a giggle.

  At the end of the aisle near the podium was Eman, approaching her solemnly wearing white robes. She couldn’t imagine a better or more appropriate person to crown her and bless her reign. He motioned for her to sit on the Golden Throne of Carnelia and held his hand out to her, blessing her as the scepter was brought forward. When the music stopped, the voices in the hall became silent and Eman stepped forward.

  “Queen Maraya Fiore, daughter of Queen Elyse Fiore and King Alano Macario, you are here today to swear a sacred oath to your call of duty. A duty that has been blessed by Garon our Father in Syion to preserve, protect, defend and lead the people and nations He has given you charge over today.

  “As Supreme Ruler, do you promise to preserve, guard, protect, defend and lead the lands of Crocetta, Ambrogia, Terama, Ravenna, Terracina, Serrantina, Drychen, Mychen, Bandaline and Tantaline to the best of your ability?”

  “I do.”

  “And will you judge fairly with prudence, wisdom and compassion those over whom Garon has given you charge?”

  “I will,” she answered solemnly.

  He took the golden scepter and placed in it her hand. “May this scepter always serve as a reminder of the holy vows you have taken this day.” A young man stepped forward carrying an ornate wooden box. Eman lifted the crown from it and held it in the air high above her.

  “Do you promise to obey the laws of Garon and never forsake the gifts and blessings He has bestowed upon you for as many years as you shall live? Do you accept the authority that He has given to you and confirm your holy ordination, promising to rule over both the weak and the mighty with the same consideration for all?”

  “I do.”

  Then, by the holy authority given to me by My Father, I hereby crown you Queen Maraya Fiore, Supreme Ruler over the lands of Carnelia.”

  He lowered the crown, slowly placing it on her head.

  “May this crown serve always as a reminder of the authority given to you by Garon and may you always follow His true path of wisdom.” She sat on the throne, her eyes meeting the faces of the people to which she would be held accountable.

  Darian rose to his feet
to lead them in hailing her.

  “Long Live the Queen! Long Live the Queen!” he shouted, as each person in the Knight’s Hall joined in the solemn show of support for the new queen by chanting it with others in one loud voice.

  Closing her eyes to savor the moment, Marisa marveled at how her sadness and despair had completely transformed into miraculous joy. Although none of them had deserved it, they’d all been given a second chance. And as she sat on the throne for the very first time, she decided that the Wounded Heart flower would become her royal symbol.

  Queen Maraya Fiore would be known as the Queen of Second Chances.

  EPILOGUE

  A few weeks after the coronation, most of the guests and foreign dignitaries had already departed for home. After the Feast of the Ordination was behind them and the last remnants of the festive parties, succulent dinners and enchanting balls had been swept away from Crocetta palace, a small group of royal family members and friends gathered in the Knight’s Hall. The twenty-odd people stood solemnly in a semicircle at the far wall as Queen Maraya was assisted to the top of the scaffolding by Prince Darian.

  The hall echoed with cheerful chatter as the onlookers below watched the couple move to stand next to the Fiore circle of swords. The queen took the opportunity to study the blue Fiore coat-of-arms at the center of the Fiore wheel. The flower intertwined gracefully with the strange animal around a fluid letter F. Noticing that one of the swords that had fallen from the wall during the earthquake had come from the Fiore circle, she turned to Darian questioningly.

  “Whose sword fell from the circle during the earthquake?”

  “Gregario’s.”

  “Where is it now?”

  “There,” he said, pointing to the long row of lone swords beneath them. “And there it shall remain.”

  She gazed down at the last, lonely symbols of the monarchs from times past who had left no heirs.

  “Here is yours, Your Majesty,” he said, handing it to her.

  She unsheathed the magnificent sword that had been made especially for her, examining it closely. The ladies’ broadsword was lighter than Darian’s, with an elegant, curved hilt resembling the flowing tendrils of a Wounded Heart. Her newly-designed coat-of-arms was engraved into the base of the polished, steel blade that flashed when she turned it over. The handle was covered in purple and gold striped thread with a solid gold cylinder with geometric patterns at its tip. At the center was a small purple jewel that had been cut from the Ambrogia stone amulet.