The Carnelian Legacy (12 page)

Marisa muttered something under her breath.

Savino bowed deeply. “Milady, I am the Viscount Savino da Rocha. You are most welcome in my castle. I am certain you must be tired and in desperate need of freshening up.”

He motioned to a group of women.

“Helinda will show you to your chambers where you can bathe and change into something more”—he appraised her filthy dress with obvious disgust—“appropriate.”

Marisa smiled nervously as three ladies dressed in beautiful gowns led her away to a large doorway on the other side of the courtyard. She was a little nervous about the whole mute act and hoped that she wouldn’t blow it for Darian by accidentally opening her mouth.

The women entered a dim, windowless corridor where a few flame torches provided the only source of light. The air was cold and damp and Marisa shivered as a chilly draft blew past them.

Helinda motioned to her to ascend a circular stairway and Marisa noticed that each of the stone steps had been worn down in the middle from centuries of use.

Halfway up to the second level, she saw a slit in the stone cornice of the wall. She moved up close and peered through the narrow gap. Feeling a rush of cold air, she gasped as she saw a beautiful waterfall a mile away that cascaded several hundred feet down into a rocky cove.

Realizing that the others were waiting for her, she turned to climb the second flight of stairs. They reached a massive oaken door that looked as if it had been there for centuries, and Helinda removed a large key from her pocket to open it.

When she entered the chamber, her eyes were drawn up to the magnificent vaulted ceiling and opulent chandelier hanging from its center.

As big as the entire first floor of her house back in Jacksonville, the room’s walls were a mixture of black rock and polished grey stone. Several stained-glass windows added color to the room, and a large stone fireplace provided enough warmth for the entire suite.

Dominating the room was a king-size canopy bed covered with an array of satin and velvet pillows in all shapes and sizes. There was a dressing table, night stand, and separate full dressing room, including a full-length mirror. Beyond the dressing room, two women poured hot water into a bathtub.

Helinda started a fire in the fireplace by striking two stones together and after a few minutes, the area became cozy as soothing warmth spread throughout the spacious chamber.

Marisa was admiring the exquisite tapestry hanging above the bed when she realized that Helinda was speaking to her. She turned her head toward her and listened.

“…all your clothes were lost on the journey. This cabinet contains clothing for your personal use during your stay,” Helinda said, riffling through the dresses.

“Some of them are likely to be your size, but you’ll have to see what fits. The viscount is holding a ball in honor of Prince Darian tomorrow night, so I would suggest that you start searching for a dress appropriate for the occasion.”

Prince Darian!

Did she seriously just say he was a prince? Marisa gasped as those two little words registered in her brain. Up until then, he had only been referred to as Ambassador Fiore. He had mentioned that he was a member of the royal family and was required to marry a princess, but he’d never said anything about being a prince in his own right.

She let out a deep sigh. No wonder he looked down on her. Not only was she falling for a guy she could never be with, but he happened to be a prince too.

“Supper will be in the dining hall in one hour, and you mustn’t be late,” Helinda shouted on her way out the door. “His Grace does not appreciate tardiness.”

Marisa shut the door and let out a deep sigh, glad to finally be alone. She sank down onto the bed and admired the elegant furnishings. The expensive-looking fabrics and priceless objects of decor made Marisa wonder what it would be like to live in Carnelia as a member of the noble class.

She spotted a beautiful evening gown hanging on the wall and studied it, trying to determine to which clothing era the styles belonged. She finally decided that the evolution of clothing had taken a different path than on Earth. She liked Carnelian clothing because it made her feel better about herself. Her posture had even seemed to improve just in the few days since she’d arrived.

As Marisa perused the dresses in the cabinet, she began to feel incredibly insignificant. She’d been raised in an average, middle-class family and didn’t know anything about royalty, diplomats, or even the way rich people lived. Everything and everyone she’d encountered in this world seemed so far out of her solar system.

Darian is a prince?

She stared in the mirror and shook her head angrily. Darian had lied to her about his position. Why was he trying to hide from her the fact that he was a prince?

She removed her clothes and settled into the bathtub. She missed her uncle and brother and longed to return to Jacksonville. At a time when she was badly in need of her father’s advice, it was him that she missed the most of all.

Arrie had said that there was a man who might be able to help her return to Earth, but the doubt had already started overshadow hope in her mind. The possibility that she might never go back began to sink in. She stepped out to dry off and slipped into an understated but beautiful brown dress.

As she brushed her long chestnut hair, she gazed out the windows overlooking the mountains and watched the sun dip down behind the horizon. Peering below, Marisa could see the village they’d come through on their way up to the castle.

She noticed the street lanterns flickering in the darkness below and pondered the slower pace of life without TVs, movie theatres, video games, and freeways. She spotted a family out walking after supper and imagined how different life must be not to have all the modern technical distractions eating up one’s time.

A loud knock startled her. She opened the door to find Arrie smiling and offering her his arm.

“Good evening, milady. I’ve come to collect my
cousin
for dinner,” he said with a wink and a smile.

Marisa giggled and curtseyed mockingly. “Thank you, kind sir, but I’m afraid I’m not up for a fancy dinner this evening. Do you think our host would mind terribly if I respectfully declined his request?”

Arrie chuckled. “In the manner you bowled Savino over this afternoon, I’d wager he’ll be quite disappointed if you don’t show,” he said dryly. “However, I will tell him that milady is too exhausted after our journey, and he shall not be able to argue with that now, shall he?”

“Thanks, Arrie. I’m goin’ to bed early tonight and try to get some decent sleep for a change.”

“Cousin, I think that is a splendid idea. I’ll ask the cook to send something up for you in a little while.”

“Good thinking. I’d appreciate that.”

Arrie nodded and disappeared down the corridor. She shut the door and smiled to herself. He seemed to possess the knack for being able to put a smile on her face no matter what.

She stepped out of the dress and stiff undergarments, pulled a thin, linen nightdress out of the top drawer, and slipped it over her head. As she passed by a full-length mirror, she gasped and then giggled when she saw that the nightgown didn’t leave much to the imagination.

Grabbing her satchel, she rummaged around in it and took out her father’s book. She tossed a couple of logs on the fire, propped up the pillows, and climbed into bed. The mattress felt soft but firm as she snuggled under the comforter.

She leafed through the pages and studied the Gaelic script. It was obviously someone’s diary, but whose? Could it be her father’s? She doubted it. Her father had always written in boxy, squarish script, but this was more curved and flowing. Each entry began with what seemed to be a date followed by several paragraphs. There were small drawings, diagrams, and even a couple of small flowers pressed between the pages.

Halfway through the book, she found a piece of linen paper that she had missed before. She carefully unfolded it and saw that it was some sort of letter with writing so faded it was almost impossible to read.

Then she noticed a piece of stationery stuck between the pages near the back. She unfolded it and gasped when she recognized her father’s handwriting.

August 12

Dearest Marisa,

Doctor Martin got the results of the MRI back this morning, and he told me that the cancer has spread again. I know now that I don’t have much time left. I’m making the most out of every day I have, but it hurts me more than you’ll ever know that I won’t be around to watch you grow up, get married, and have children of your own. I hope that you will come to realize someday just how much you are loved.

You are such a treasure and a joy to me, serving as a constant reminder all these years of my love for your mother. She was a remarkable woman, and now I see so many of her incredible traits shining forth in you.

It’s so hard to sum up all the wisdom of my whole life into one tiny bit of advice to pass on to you, but if I had to, it would be this: you will be confronted with numerous choices in your life, but always strive for what is good and right and never settle for less than that which is worthy and worthwhile.

I am giving you this book and your mother’s ring. These treasures are the last remnants of the beautiful life we shared long ago. Please take good care of them and never forget that it is by choice that the ordinary person decides to live a life that is extraordinary. I love you so much, my dearest lassie. Happy eighteenth birthday!

Love, Dad

Marisa stared into the fire as the tears spilled from her eyes. She wiped them with the sleeve of her nightgown and placed the book on her nightstand. She shut the drapes but stopped abruptly as she peered through the window. There was a group of men strolling across the main courtyard below and she saw that it was Arrie, Darian, Savino, and one other man she didn’t recognize. Hopefully they had been successful in conducting the business they had come for, and she knew she’d made the right decision not to join them for dinner.

All of a sudden, Darian glanced up at her window and she quickly hid behind the drapes. Marisa didn’t want to reinforce his suspicions that she was spying on him. She peeked out again a moment later, but the men were already gone.

Knowing that the next day would be another busy one, she shut the drapes and sighed. On her way back to bed, she blew out the candles as her thoughts turned to their adventures in the woods when the horrible beasts were chasing them. She’d never been so scared in her entire life, but Darian had displayed remarkable courage in killing the monsters that had attacked Arrie. As her heart began to burn once more for him, she tried to force him from her mind.

Mesmerized by the fire, her eyelids drooped as the remaining flames died down into nothing but glowing embers. Just as she was drifting off to sleep, she was startled by a solid knock at the door.

She groaned and rolled out of bed in search of a robe. When she couldn’t find one, she tiptoed across the cold stone floor and remembered Arrie’s promise to have the cook send up some food.

She opened the door and was surprised to find Darian standing in the doorway, holding a tray of food in his arms. Cleanly shaven and wearing a different uniform, he seemed distracted when he saw her in the sheer nightgown.

“Good evening, milady. May I come in?”

“Uh, yeah—sure. Come on in.” She crossed her arms nervously and her face flushed with embarrassment.

“Arrie said you weren’t feeling well. We thought some food might make you feel better.” He set down the tray and removed the cloth.

“Thank you, Your Royal Highness.”

Busted.
“You’re welcome,” he said sheepishly.

“That was, um—very thoughtful.”

Awkward silence.

“Yeah, okay—so why
didn’t
you tell me you’re a prince?”

Darian checked the hallway to make sure no one was listening and quickly shut the door. He leaned against it and sighed.

“It was a minor detail that wasn’t important at the time.”

“Not important?” Marisa shot back. “I’d say a detail like that is pretty darned major!”

“Would it have made any difference when you were nearly killed by the rijgen?”

“That is not the point! You lied to me and made me believe that you were just an ambassador. I had to find out from the maid that actually you’re a prince!”

“I did nothing of the sort. For all intents and purposes, while we are on this journey, I am His Excellency Ambassador Darian Fiore. That is my official capacity until we reach Crocetta!”

More awkward silence.

He lowered his voice. “Would you have treated me differently had you known that I was a prince?”

“Of course I would have!”

“Then perhaps you will understand why I did not tell you.”