The Carnelian Tyranny: Savino’s Revenge (39 page)

When Arrie saw Marisa’s sweat-soaked hair and flushed cheeks, his concern for her soared. “How is she?” he whisp
ered.

Cinzia stood up and motioned him out of the room, closing the door behind them. “She is very sick, Arrigo. I think she may need a do
ctor.”

“But where can we find
one?”

“I wish Celino were here,” Alessio remarked. “Come eat your breakfast, Cinz, you’ve been taking care of her all night. Let her rest. I’ll take the next s
hift.”

“The poor girl.” Helena shook her head. “She has not slept, she has not eaten and she has been running around in the cold, damp air. I am not surprised at all that she has fallen ill. We never should have let her go in the first p
lace.”

“She did not give us much choice, Your Highness,” Tino said, crossing his arms and sighing. “And yet, that girl has managed to accomplish more than all of us put together. It puts me to shame. She would have made an excellent q
ueen.”

“Will make,” Alessio corrected. “It’s not over
yet.”

“Do you truly believe there is still hope?” Tino a
sked.

“I have to. If we lose hope, we’re
dead.”

CHAPTER 37

EPIPHANY

“Is everything ready for the execution this afternoon?” Savino asked, admiring his newest garments that had just arrived from the ta
ilor.

Gaspar nodded. “Yes, Your Maj
esty.”

“So, am I correct in assuming that we still have said prisoner in our possession?” He slipped on an elegant tunic of brown brocade and, after adjusting it slightly, turned to view himself in the mi
rror.

“Yes,
Sire.”

“Ah, how refreshing to hear that after losing nearly all of our other prisoners.” He brushed a piece of lint off his sleeve before slipping his chain of office over his head. “I had heard that these warriors were the best force in the land and, yet, so far, I must say I am not impressed with them at
all.”

“Yes, their performance is rather disappointing, I dar
esay.”

“Please ensure that the prisoner is brought to the throne room promptly at eleven. I wish to speak with him before the execu
tion.”

“As you
wish.”

“You are free to leave. But, I want no mistakes this time,” he added, wagging a finger at him. “There is no room for error t
oday.”

“I understand, Sire.” He left the chambers, his face twisting into an angry scowl. Meanwhile, Savino continued to preen himself in front of a full-length mirror, adjusting his tunic and smoothing his
hair.

Finally pleased with his appearance, he nodded at his reflection and opened the box on the dresser, removing a silver da Rocha crest pin. He gazed out at the panoramic view of the harbor below, his eyes drawn to the distant horizon as he fastened the pin to his t
unic.

Turning to leave, a small white plant on the table caught his eye, and he stopped. Bending down to examine it closer, he noticed that the flower had opened slightly since the day before. Small shoots of scarlet were beginning to emerge from its ce
nter.

He straightened up with a confident shrug and strolled out of the room, heading down to breakfast. What sort of man kept a potted flower in his bedchamber? Flowers were only useful for wooing females into bed and were not meant for a man’s enjoy
ment.

He smiled smugly to himself. Darian Fiore was nothing but a weak, sentimental fool. It sickened him to think that he was even in the slightest way related to
him.

Marisa’s head pounded as she fought to sit up in bed. The room was pitch-black and she had no idea where she was. But, as the dank, musty odor penetrated her nostrils, she realized she was in the cellar at Celino’s house. Reaching out in the darkness, she felt for the other bed, but it was e
mpty.

Caught in a wave of dizziness, she fought to stand, fumbling her way toward the stairs. She climbed them slowly, taking them one at a time. When she reached the top, she opened the pantry door, the light of the morning sun nearly blinding her. Feeling herself beginning to fade, she collapsed on the cold, stone floor, drawing shallow breaths as her body shiv
ered.

“Marisa!” Helena shrieked. “What are you d
oing?”

Hearing Helena’s voice, Alessio ran into the kitchen and hoisted his niece up into his arms. He carried her into the library, laying her down gently on the c
ouch.

“Just what do you think you’re doing out of bed, young lady?” he asked sternly, throwing a blanket over her
body.

“I woke up in the dark and didn’t know where I
was.”

Tino smiled, tucking the blanket around her. “We did not want to make the same mistake with you that we did with A
rrie.”

She tossed the blanket aside. “I’ve got to go get Da
rian.”

“No, darlin’, you’re not,” Alessio said. “You’re not
well.”

“But they’re gonna execute him today.” She grabbed her holster, strapping it on under her dress. “What time is it
now?”

“It’s just after ten. Now, Tino and I’ve been discussing it. One of us will go get him
out.”

“But you don’t know where he is! I’ve been down there before and I can get him
out.”

“True. But you’re sick. You can barely
walk!”

“Someone bring me my satchel. Just give me a couple of aspirin and I’ll be okay in half an hour.” Cinzia handed her the satchel. Marisa rummaged around in it until she found the small, plastic bo
ttle.

“I shall go get Darian,” Arrie announced finally. “No offense, Pap, but I am younger, stronger and I can move faster. I am the logical ch
oice.”

She popped two aspirin into her mouth and washed them down with a long swig of lukewarm tea, lifting her hand in pro
test.

“I didn’t want to have to do this, but I’m pulling rank. As the Princess Regent and rightful Supreme Ruler of Crocetta, Abbadon and all Carnelia, blah, blah, blah, blah—I hereby proclaim that I’m the one going after Prince Darian. The subject is now cl
osed.”

Everyone looked at Ale
ssio.

“Can she do that?” Arrie asked, staring dumbly at his fa
ther.

He shrugged. “She just
did.”

For the second time in so many days, Marisa found herself tracing the eastern face of the citadel walls. Although the aspirin seemed to have kicked in ten minutes before, she was still feeling dizzy and her face was burning up. Dressed in three layers of clothing, she felt silly in her overstuffed getup, but Cinzia had insisted on her wearing it, only letting her go if she’d agree to bundl
e up.

As she rounded the northeast corner of the wall, she spotted the bridge several hundred feet away. It was a particularly beautiful morning, due mostly to the mountains that had been covered with a fresh layer of
snow.

Averting her gaze from the dizzying view into the deep ravine, she spun back toward the wall, stepping sideways along the narrow strip of ground. Just a few minutes more and she’d reach the gate at the northern entrance. Feeling her strength starting to wane, she prayed for fresh energy. But, when the dizziness caused the world to slowly fade to black, she knew she had to lie down or risk fainting and falling into the deep gorge b
elow.

Sliding down against the wall, she closed her eyes and rested for a few minutes, waiting for the spinning sensation in her head to clear. After a few moments of rest, she felt as if she could continue and stood up again slowly, moving toward the bridge. She climbed over the railing and removed her key from the dagger’s scabbard just as she’d done the day before. Everything was running together now in one giant
déj
à vu.

She entered through the rear gate before closing it again behind her, following the exact same route as the day before when she had rescued Arrie. Descending the darkened staircase, she felt dizzy again and lowered herself to the ground, resting her head between her knees. Refusing to wait until the lightheadedness passed, she pulled herself up and continued on. In her mind, the urgency to find Darian outweighed her body’s need to
rest.

Finally, she stood on the landing between the two doors, but, spotting the six towering warriors guarding Darian’s cell, she realized that she didn’t have a plan of rescue. If he should happen to see her, he might overreact, drawing unwanted attention toward
her.

Her thoughts were interrupted when the door opposite her opened and a group of seven large warriors filed into the corridor. Pressing herself flat against the other door, she waited as they marched on past, gasping when she saw Talvan at the rear. He made brief eye contact with her but kept marching on with the group. When the men reached the bottom, they sto
pped.

“Attention!” Talvan shouted. “Guard ch
ange!”

The six fresh warriors assumed their posts along the wall while the old shift marched back up the corridor toward the st
airs.

She peered around them into the dark cell, scanning the chamber to catch a glimpse of Darian. In the dim light of a single torch, she was able to make out his broad silhou
ette.

Little more than just a dark shadow, he was leaning forward with his back to her, his head resting in his hands. He didn’t move at all, nor did he look up when the guards changed outside his cell. However heartbreaking it was for her to see his familiar, powerful frame hunched over in defeat, at the same time her heart was also leaping for joy that he was still a
live.

And soon she would be back in his
arms!

She could barely contain her excitement as she lurked in the doorway of the stairwell, watching impatiently as the guards coming off their shift marched on past. As Talvan approached, he took her arm, signaling for her to follow him back up the stairs. Her smile disappeared when she glanced back at Darian in disappointment. He hadn’t even noticed that she was there, but instead had remained in the same pitiful position with his back to her. She glanced up helplessly at Talvan, meeting his
gaze.

Reassuring her with a gentle squeeze on her arm and a slight tilt of his head, he steered her so that she was walking behind him. The squadron exited the door into the courtyard, marching together in unison as they headed toward the south side of the citadel. There was a chill in the air and, with each gust of wind, her teeth chattered and her body shook. Talvan kept glancing over his shoulder to make sure she was still with
them.

Running to keep up with the warriors’ giant strides, she fought a fog of dizziness and forced herself to keep moving. Her cheeks were burning up and her headache had gotten worse. Her throat felt swollen, making her wince with pain each time she swallowed. And, to top it all off, her body was wracked with chills. She began to wonder if she would even see tomo
rrow.

The group of warriors entered the main foyer and turned sharply, entering the Knight’s Hall. Talvan slowed his march, continuing straight down the corridor instead. No one would question him if he slipped away from the formation. It was one of the perks of being a high commander. He glanced back over his shoulder just in time to see her drop onto the f
loor.

Scooping her up into his arms, he carried her up the stairs toward the royal chambers and deposited her on Prince Darian’s bed. Pulling the covers up over her, he saw that her face was flushed and touched a calloused hand to her forehead. She was burning up with fever. They did not have the luxury of time, but one look at her and he knew she needed to rest for a w
hile.

Minutes later, she awoke sleepily and glanced around the room, her eyes stopping at the foot of the bed where he s
tood.

“What am I doing
here?”

“Your Highness, you fainted and I carried
you.”