The Carnelian Tyranny: Savino’s Revenge (21 page)

Marisa giggled at their bewildered expressions as she hurried behind him down the hall. “Here, Talvan—this way.” She led him down the rear stairs through the long servant’s corridors, past the wine cellars and back up toward the sta
bles.

Once they were inside the stables, Talvan hurried over and heaved the heavy sack of laundry up over Siena’s
back.

“Oof! Watch it! I can barely breathe in here.” Her brother’s muffled voice grunted from the
sack.

“Be quiet and just hang on, Mark. Once Talvan gets you to the house, he’ll let you
out.”

She turned to Talvan. “Savino knows that Celino is the one who’s been helping us. You’ve got to tell him not to wait until morning for me to return. He has to get Mark and Adalina out of the city tonight. Can you remember
that?”

“Of course, Your Highness. Is there anything
else?”

“Nope, that’s it.” She hugged his midsection, craning her neck to meet the giant’s gaze. “Talvan, you’ve taken a huge risk for us today. Thank
you.”

“Your Royal Highness, it is an honor to serve
you.”

“What will you say if someone stops
you?”

“Someone stop me?” He grinned broadly, giving her a small salute. “No one questions my authority. I answer only to Sa
vino.”

“Oh, Talvan—wait! I almost fo
rgot!”

She removed the Carnelian ring from her finger and opened his hand, placing it in his palm. “Please give this to Adalina. Tell her to keep it
safe.”

“As you wish.” He slipped it into a pouch under his belt and turned to lead S
iena.

Watching his bulky silhouette fill the tunnel, Marisa prayed silently that Celino would be able to get them on a ship that afternoon. As he turned the corner and moved out of sight, she jogged back up to the citadel, wondering what more damage she coul
d do.

CHAPTER 21

CONCEALMENT

Judging from the position of the sun, Darian saw that it was almost time to leave. But before they left, he wanted to gather the Crimson Knights together for a short briefing to lay out their plan of approach. In a few hours they would pass through the Mychen Forest and he wanted to get his men through the woods before dark. Most of the men already knew their strategy once they reached the outer limits of Abbadon. But not being one to leave anything to chance, Darian decided to run through the battle plan once a
gain.

He called the men together, carefully laying down their plan of attack by drawing a small map in a patch of snow with a stick. Once the men understood and there were no more questions, he dismissed
them.

After the briefing, Darian turned to see Bruno lingering close to Mattie, the two of them chatting softly under a tree several feet away. It was an intimate conversation, and one he preferred not to disturb. Wondering if it was just a simple flirtation or something more substantial, he imagined his mother scolding him and telling him that it was none of his business. But in a march to war, everything was his business. “Mattie, are you ready t
o go?”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Matilda answered shyly. “Uh, Bruno has been kind enough to offer himself as my personal escort for the rest of the jou
rney.”

When Bruno looked at him with his lopsided grin, Darian was reminded once again why women did not belong on a battle march. Not because they were incapable of fighting or because they were the weaker sex; quite the contrary. Many of the women of Darian’s acquaintance possessed superior minds and spirits than most of the men he knew. However, a man’s mind was weak and easily distracted. A woman was the ultimate distraction for a man and, in a time of war, they could afford no distractions. Due to the unpredictable, chaotic nature of the battlefield, Darian could also never guarantee a woman’s sa
fety.

But when he saw the lovestruck expressions on the couple’s faces, all of his reasons fell by the wayside. He couldn’t blame them one single bit. As long as Bruno did his job and did not become overly distracted by Mattie’s flirtations, he would allow their little courting g
ames.

The men broke camp and saddled up their horses, continuing their march toward Abb
adon.

Feeling refreshed from the few hours of sleep, Darian prepared himself mentally for the battle ahead. He had experienced the same journey into battle many times before and knew the importance of setting oneself in the right frame of
mind.

He tried to recall everything he could about the castle at Abbadon. Although he had spent his summers there as a child, he had never been down the servant’s passages in the lower levels of the fortress. His familiarity of the castle was limited to the guest chambers and public rooms. On their last visit to Abbadon, he’d made a point of carefully studying the fortress’ general layout knowing that it might prove useful at a later date. Sometimes it was minute details that determined whether a battle was lost or
won.

Glancing around at the cold, sullen faces of the men riding alongside him, the grim thought that some of them would never return riddled his mind. Some he had known since childhood. Others he had befriended in his Carnelian Academy years. But all the men riding with him to Abbadon were fiercely loyal to his family. The older Crimson Knights that traveled with him now were the same ones that had taught him almost everything he knew to succeed on the battlefield. But there was still one lesson he had yet to ma
ster.

How to gr
ieve.

Pushing the anxiety from his mind, in its place came questions of childhood friends and compatriots who had fallen right next to him in battle. There never seemed to be any logic in which man was killed and which one survived. Why had they been the ones to die while he somehow managed to survive? His grief was compounded by guilt each time he left the battlefield with his soul in
tact.

This time, he had hoped to avoid war altogether by persuading Savino to sign his treaty, but he had failed miserably. Soon he would pay for that mistake with the lives of his men. Yet again, the weight of responsibility had fallen onto his shoulders. It was the ultimate downside of being a mon
arch.

In an attempt to leave his painful memories behind, he stared out at the beautiful countryside that he knew like the back of his hand. But on this battle march, things were different. This time, every tree and mountain he saw reminded him of Marisa. His thoughts slowly wandered back to
her.

Before she had returned to Carnelia, life had been hard, cruel and devoid of any beauty. But once she showed him a side of life filled with everyday miracles that he’d never seen before, he finally discovered what it meant to be alive. And after years of somber monotony, laughter and joy had found their way back into his h
eart.

Silently he prayed that, after the mission was complete, they would have many more years to discover each other in every possible way. Then he released his warm thoughts of her, forcing himself to focus on the task ahead. “Lord Domenico, take the lead, pl
ease.”

“Yes, Sire,” the tall knight replied, maneuvering his dark stallion into the vanguard. The narrow canyon that emptied into the Mychen Forest was just a few more miles ahead of
them.

Darian slowed his horse’s pace in his search of Porfiro, finally spotting him at the rear. “Baron Porfiro! I wish to have a word with you.” He dropped back a ways to ride alongside the seasoned sol
dier.

Much older and more experienced than Bruno, Porfiro had extensive knowledge of the castle at Abbadon and could offer special insight into the deployment of the men. The two men began to discuss their strategic plan of at
tack.

Standing in the doorway of the Knight’s Hall, Marisa peered inside and saw that it was empty. She moved down the long corridor, searching for any kind of activity. The many halls, chambers and corridors seemed unusually quiet and nearly deserted apart from the occasional warrior on pa
trol.

With the additional challenge of staying out of the path of palace servants who might recognize her, she soon realized that tracking down Savino in the massive palace was like searching for a needle in a hays
tack.

Hearing raised voices in a room at the end of the corridor, she hurried down to find that the door of the chamber was wide open. She snuck inside, noticing that it was the music room where Darian had found her playing the piano the night before her birthday
ball.

Savino leaned against the piano, his arms crossed sternly as he addressed four warriors. “So not only are you unable to locate the elusive Princess Maraya, but now you’ve lost Prince Marcus as
well?!”

None of the men respo
nded.

“Can anyone explain to me why the most elite force in the land is incapable of tracking down a single girl? Is it so difficult to understand that she is a threat to my reign and cannot be allowed to
live?”

As he yelled at the warriors, Marisa watched the fire spew out of his mouth. His words seemed to scorch everything that came within two feet of
him.

“Get out of my sight and get back to work! And no more mistakes or your heads will be decorating poles before dayb
reak!”

The warriors turned to go, leaving him alone. He rubbed his forehead in quiet thought and stared at the floor. Then he slowly lifted his gaze and his crystal blue eyes locked on hers. His expression became one of fury as he leapt to his feet and crossed the room, moving straight toward
her.

Impossible! Can he really se
e me?

Panic filled her brain and she stumbled backwards, ducking out of his path. He kept walking in a straight path toward the wall, stopping to stare at a marvelous oil painting that hung at eye level. He emitted a low growl before turning on his heel and stalking out of the
room.

Marisa rushed over to the painting and saw that it was a beautiful depiction of a galleon ship on a stormy sea. She read the inscription on the metal plate just below it.
The Carnelian
. It was the very ship that had transported her family through the vortex all those years
ago.

Soon it occurred to her that she needed to be following Savino. She ran out the door and glanced down the corridor both ways, but it was too late. He was already gone. Her stomach growled. She couldn’t remember the last time she had e
aten.

Descending the servant’s stairs, she listened cautiously. There wasn’t a person in sight as she slipped down the corridor and peered into the kitchen. Spotting a pot of soup simmering softly on the stove and a hunk of fresh meat on the butcher block, she knew the cook couldn’t be far. She hastily ladled out a bowl of soup, grabbed some bread from a basket and some fruit and cheese from a cool-cupboard and speeded down the hallway, trying to balance and not drop it
all.

Thankfully, the corridor was empty as she snuck down toward the wine cellar. Although it was dark, cold and dank amongst the casks, it was still the perfect place to hide. The servants only went there once in a while to retrieve a bottle of wine, and she knew she’d be alone t
here.

Pushing the door open with her rear, she entered the dark room and found a sturdy wooden crate to sit on. Hungrily, she ate the bread and cheese as she sat in the dark, watching the steady, pulsing light of the amulet and reflecting on the gravity of the situa
tion.

Darian was probably still on the road to Abbadon. He and his men would all be surprised to discover an abandoned castle when they arrived the next day. Maybe they would turn right around and return to Crocetta before Savino could crown himself as king. She hoped that Celino, Mark and Adalina had been able to board a ship and set sail for Terracina. The thought of her brother being captured or killed by Savino’s men terrified
her.

Although she was still very young at the time, Marisa had taken over the care of her baby brother years ago after their mother died. She remembered getting him dressed in the mornings and making his lunches when she was only in grade school. The untimely death of her mother had sent her father into a state of shock, one that had taken him years to finally drag himself out of. Uncle Al had pitched in around the house by paying bills and doing the other grown-up stuff wherever possible, but it was Marisa who did most of the household chores and took care of Mark. She had missed having an easy childhood and was forced to grow up far too qui
ckly.

And now that Mark was sixteen and could finally take care of himself, she still felt responsible for him. No matter how old they got, he would always be her baby brother. If he had been able to escape to Terracina with Celino and Adalina, they would be safe and it would be one less thing for her to worry about. And though she didn’t like to think about it, if anything happened to both she and Darian, at least there would still be two Fiores left to
rule.

It was mind-boggling to think of how much her life had changed over the past six months. Why, it was only last spring when her biggest challenge in life was worrying about her grades. But now, she was fighting to take back her kingdom from an evil tyrant and not lose her head in the process. Now she was just trying to stay a
live.

But the thing that frightened her the most was that it was up to her now to find a way to defeat Savino. Darian was gone and the others had been captured. Hopefully they would be able to enlist the help of King Bertoldo, but it would take too much time for him to arrive. Savino was planning to crown himself in just a couple of days and, by the time his fleet arrived, it would be too
late.

She left the cellar and dumped her plate in the deserted kitchen, making her way back up to the Knight’s Hall just as the bells in the citadel tower began to chime. It was already early eve
ning.

Entering the vast hall, she saw two huge warriors leading her uncle into the Crimson antechamber. But as the door closed behind them, it was too late for her to slip in be
hind.

She stood outside the door, unsure of what to do. She couldn’t open the door herself—it would draw unwanted attention. Fortunately, Talvan was just returning from his secret mission. She motioned to him and he nodded, opening the door as she ducked in behind. Her uncle had his back toward them as they ent
ered.

“Ah, Talvan, there you are,” Savino said, peering anxiously over Alessio’s shoulder. “Any sign of Maraya or Ma
rcus?”

“None of my men have seen them, Your Maj
esty.”

“Well, she must still be in the city! She could not possibly have escaped before my men arr
ived!”