The Carnelian Tyranny: Savino’s Revenge (16 page)

“I’m coming,” Marisa
said.

“No, you are not,” he answered fi
rmly.

“But—”

“You are the Princess Regent, and we ca
nnot—”

“It’s my uncle and brother out there! It should have been me in that wagon, not
them.”

“Dearest, if the warriors had discovered you last night, you would have been killed, not captured,” Arrie said matter-of-factly. “You simply cannot go marching into their midst.” He turned to Darian. “I am coming with you. I want to go get my father and bring him
home.”

“No, Arrie, you will stay here with Marisa, my mother, Matilda and Adalina. I would feel much better knowing that you are here with
them.”

He nodded. “As you wish, Your High
ness.”

Matilda spoke up. “I will come along. You shall need someone who knows the secret passageways in and out of that ca
stle.”

“I do not think that would be wise, Mattie. It will be extremely dangerous,” Darian
said.

Her bright blue eyes flashed at him. “But Savino trusts me. We should use that to our advan
tage.”

“She has a point, Your Highness,” Bruno agreed, smiling shyly. “Lady Matilda just may be our golden pathway into the ca
stle.”

Marisa’s jaw dropped. “Matilda’s going, but I’m
not?”

Darian stood. “Your Highness, will you come with me for a moment? There is something urgent I need to discuss with you in private. We shall return in a few mom
ents.”

He opened the door and steered her into the Knight’s Hall. Closing it behind them, he lowered his v
oice.

“Please think clearly about this. You must remain here. If something should happen to me, Crocetta would still have
you.”

“But I don’t want anything to happen to
you.”

“And I do not intend to allow anything to ha
ppen.”

Her eyes were moist. “But you c
an’t—”

“We cannot go together on this journey—do you not see that? Savino would like nothing more than to kill one of us while the other one watches and will if given the chance. He is only interested in taking his rev
enge.”

“Revenge,” she echoed. “Then we’re do
omed.”

He shook his head. “Not if we stand our ground. And that means we fight back, which is why we are going to Abbadon. I intend to strike Savino so hard that he will never be able to hurt us ever a
gain.”

“Darian, I have an awful feeling about this.” She reached down, taking his hand in hers. “Something isn’t right, but I can’t put my finger on it. Don’
t go.”

“Please trust me—just as you always have,” he pleaded, squeezing her hand gently. “I need for you to believe in me. Now, more than ever.” His grip on her tightened, his eyes solici
tous.

She saw something in them that she had never seen before. What was it? Vulnerability? Did the mighty Prince Darian have a weak spot? And if so, what was his kryptonite? In the way he looked at her, she already knew the answer. “I do believe in you,” she whispered. “Al
ways.”

“That is all I wanted to hear.” He raised her hand to his lips, kissing it. “Come, time is ticking away, and the others are waiting fo
r us.”

He held the door of the antechamber open as the conversations around the table suddenly ceased. The two of them sat down and Darian turned his attention to Bruno and Luca seated halfway down the table. “How many men will we
need?”

“We cannot do it with less than a thousand men,” Bruno replied without batting an
eye.

“That
many?”

“Our men are well-trained and sufficiently equipped, but against Savino’s warriors, we shall need the numbers in our f
avor.”

“That seems about right, Your Highness,” Tino interje
cted.

“Do we have enough
men?”

Luca shook his head. “We will need to recruit some locals from the city. The small army we posted at Beauriél was utterly decimated last night—only two men survived the attack. Even if we are able to raise a thousand to march on Abbadon, there will not be many left to guard the cit
adel.”

“So how are we supposed to defend ourselves?” Marisa a
sked.

“Do not worry, Your Highness,” Bruno answered. “We shall leave a sufficient contingent behind to guard the cit
adel.”

“Then it is settled,” Darian said, rising to his feet. “Bruno, Domenico and Tino, go round up the men and plot our attack.” The three men nodded to Darian and hastily exited the cha
mber.

“Mattie, please prepare for the journey. We leave at
dusk.”

“As you wish, Your Highness.” She bobbed a quick curtsey and floated out of the cha
mber.

“Mother, I shall come to your chambers in a little while, but right now I need a few minutes with Ma
risa.”

“As you wish.” Helena nodded and turned to go with Adalina trailing be
hind.

“Baroness? Lord Arroyo? Thank you—that will be all.” He nodded to Cinzia and Tino, dismissing them. They stood and made their way out of the antechamber, leaving only Darian, Arrie and Ma
risa.

“Do you think they are still alive?” Arrie asked as soon as his mother had left the
room.

“They are alive,” Darian answered. “Savino is planning to use them as leverage—or bait. Perhaps even
both.”

“How fast can you get there?” Marisa a
sked.

“We should arrive the day after tomorrow if we take the shortcut through the Mychen Forest. But it will depend on the depth of the snow between here and Abb
adon.”

“What! Please don’t tell me you’re going through the forest with those—
th
ings
?!”

“Do not worry,” he said reassuringly. “The
rijgen
hibernate in winter. We shall not even see
them.”

“Hibernate? When will they come out a
gain?”

“Not until early spring,” Arrie said, rising from his chair. “Well, Bruno may need some help in stocking the weapons, so if I am no longer needed
here…”

Marisa stopped him. “Wait—I need to ask you a f
avor.”

“For you, cousin, anything. What i
s it?”

“I had to leave Beauriél in a hurry last night. Jackson is still out there. At least, I think he is, unless the warriors have done something to him. I was afraid he’d bark the whole time and give me away. Would you please go get him and bring him back
here?”

“Of course, Your Highness. I shall ride out there straight away on Concrete and return before the battle detail leaves.” He gave her a quick smile and disappe
ared.

“Please be careful!” she called after
him.

When Darian and Marisa were alone, neither of them spoke for a moment. They both had so much to say, but so little time to say it. Darian finally broke the sil
ence.

“I do not wish to leave you, but the men need a leader to march on Abb
adon.”

She leaned forward in her chair. “I don’t want you to go. And I’m not just being selfish. I have a very bad feeling about
this.”

He touched her cheek. “My love, you must not worry. It should take us only a day or two to march to Abbadon. There will be some casualties, of course, but we must try to save Alessio, Marcus and Eman while we still
can.”

She nodded gloo
mily.

“I shall be back in time for your coronation next
week.”

“That’s not it.” She lifted her head to look into his eyes. “You’ve got to promise me that you won’t do anything stupid. I can’t do this without
you.”

“I promise,” he said, leaning in c
lose.

“No crazy r
isks?”

“None whatsoever,” he whispered, brushing his lips against her cheek. He planted a trail of soft kisses across her face, finally reaching her mouth. Then his lips demanded more as he took her face in his hands, the warmth of his touch stirring her. As he slowly pulled away, she groaned in pro
test.

“We shall be together again soon, and it will be as if I had never left. Will you take care of my mother and sister while I am
gone?”

“You know I
will.”

“I need to speak to them now, but I shall be back to take my leave.” He kissed her once more before turning to go down to the ar
mory.

Marisa laid her head against the back of the chair, watching his cloak sway behind him as he strode away. She hoped with all her heart that Alessio, Mark, and Eman were all still a
live.

CHAPTER 16

ADIEU

With every bump in the road, Alessio, Eman and Mark were tossed off the hard wooden benches, their iron chains clanging in protest. They had been traveling for several hours without stopping, and no one had bothered to check and see if they were
okay.

Mark rubbed and flexed his fingers, trying to keep them warm. Although he had been trying to remain calm about their situation, each time he glanced up at his uncle, that tense expression made him worry all the more. He’d seen that exact same look of concern many times before on his father’s face, and he knew there was something he wasn’t telling them. Even Eman seemed uncharacteristically somber, hardly speaking a
word.

“Uncle Al, do you know where we are?” Mark a
sked.

“It just doesn’t make any sense,” Alessio mumbled, staring out the wi
ndow.

“What doe
sn’t?”

“We’re going around in circles. We can’t be more than ten miles from Crocetta.” He motioned to the window above Mark’s head. “Those are the Crocine Mountains in the dist
ance.”

As the wagon jerked to a stop, Alessio turned to peer out his own window at the hordes of warriors dismounting and removing supplies from their horses. They were pitching tents everywhere. He nudged Eman gently. “Do you have any idea what they’re plan
ning?”

“It is rather difficult to say, but it does appear that they are setting up camp for the night,” the shepherd answered, watching the bustle of activity around him. Just then, the lock on the rear door of the wagon clanked loudly and then op
ened.

“Get out!” a scraggly, pudgy warrior growled at
them.

They stood up and moved to the open door, their chains making it difficult for them to climb out. When Eman didn’t move fast enough to suit the warrior, he reached in and grabbed him by the tunic, throwing him outside. Eman tripped over the chained manacles on his feet, falling as a bumbling heap into the
snow.

“Move it!” the warrior barked impatie
ntly.

Holding his hands up in submission, Mark jumped down, his uncle following close behind. A second warrior joined the first in jeering at their discomfort, shoving Mark with such force that he lost his balance and tripped over Eman still lying in the snow. Both warriors roared with laug
hter.

Mark helped Eman up off the snow, glancing at the warrior towering above him. When the giant of a man sneered cruelly at him, he noticed that the warrior had a large gold tooth in front. The soldier grabbed his arm and forced him over to a large tent, pushing him inside. Then the pudgy warrior shoved Eman and Alessio into the tent as three other warriors took their posts at the entr
ance.

Inside, there was a small table and three bed mats sprawled out across the floor, each one covered in blankets. Mark shuddered, realizing that they would be sleeping on the cold ground in the dead of wi
nter.

“Come and eat the meal they’ve prepared for us,” Alessio said. “It may be our last for a while.” They sat as Eman solemnly bowed his head and began to
pray.

“Garon, our Father in Syion, we thank you for providing us with this sustenance. We ask that you stay with us and guide us through whatever dark times may lay ahead. Thy will be done,
Amen.”

Mark stared in amazement. Eman seemed so peaceful, so unconcerned about everything that was happening around them. As the wheels of his mind spun, imagining all the horrible things that the warriors would do to them, the simple shepherd seemed to take it all in stride. How could he remain calm at a time like
this?

Without warning, the gold-toothed warrior burst into the tent and sauntered over to the table. When he grabbed Mark’s plate and started eating his food with his hands, Mark jumped up in a
nger.

Alessio restrained him, whispering in English, “Don’t. It’s not worth getting killed
over.”

The warrior tossed the plate on the floor and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before storming out of the tent. Mark looked at his overturned plate, sighing in dismay. His dinner was strewn all across the dirty f
loor.

“Here—take mine,” Eman offered. “I am not hungry.” He pushed his plate in front of Mark, smiling at him ki
ndly.

Mark exchanged quick glances with his uncle before accepting Eman’s food. The shepherd got up from the table and laid down on one of the mats, pulling the blankets up over him. After they finished the meal, Alessio suggested that they all get into their
beds.

Slipping off the too-small shoes Marisa had given him the night before, Mark laid down on his side, exhausted. Almost as soon as he’d pulled the blanket over him, he fell fast as
leep.

Listening to Alessio snoring softly, Eman rolled over on his side, watching the two men sleeping peacefully. Praying silently for courage in the dark days ahead, he smiled sadly to himself, realizing how much he was going to miss them
all.

Marisa waited impatiently for the time when she would bid Darian farewell. She picked up her mother’s diary from the table next to her bed and opene
d it.

Staring down at the words that refused to register, she read the same paragraph three times. Realizing that it was no use, she finally put the book down, her eyes resting on the almond-sized language translator next t
o it.

She picked up the small device and rolled it softly between her fingers, remembering the day that Darian had given it to her on the road to Abbadon. So much had happened in the time since then that it was hard to believe it had only been a few short months
ago.

In the meantime, she’d almost mastered the Crocine language and didn’t even need the translator anymore. The tiny, technological device had become more of a sentimental souvenir than a useful
tool.

She gazed out the windows across the snow-capped mountains. Just when life was finally starting to get back to some sort of normal, everything had suddenly been turned on its axis once again. Her brother, her uncle and a friend had all been captured by her enemy. Her fiancé was heading into battle possibly never to return and nothing seemed certain any
more.

Tired of trying to catch the numerous curve balls being thrown at her from every direction, she flopped onto her stomach and snuggled into her pillow, wondering if life would ever settle down into some quiet form of exist
ence.

Before she had come to Carnelia, she had actually believed that she had some degree of control over her life. But once she’d traveled through the vortex, it became clear that nearly everything was out of her hands. People who imagined they had control over their lives were only kidding themse
lves.

Control is an illu
sion.

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 ha
ndle.

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

Pray for wisdom, courage and peace that passes all understan
ding.

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 w
orry.

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

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

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

“He’ll be okay. I just kno
w 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 a
gain.”

“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 sh
ould.”

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

She brightened. “Re
ally?”

“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 y
ears.”

“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 ki
lled.”

“He’s alive; I can fee
l it.”

“It comforts me to hear that. I am so thankful that Garon has brought you back t
o 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 s
ight.

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 se
cret.

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 unrecogniz
able.

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 ordi
nary.

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 s
tart.

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 an
swer.

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 a
live.