The Carnelian Tyranny: Savino’s Revenge (41 page)

With a look of panic etched onto his face, Gaspar jumped up, disappearing through a small
door.

“Drop your cloak of concealment or she dies!” Raniero shouted as he held Marisa tightly against him, his sword resting on her th
roat.

Darian glanced down at Savino’s lifeless body sprawled out across the floor, the dagger still sticking up from his chest. Further away, Talvan lay helpless on the stone floor, still alive, but quivering in a pool of his own b
lood.

He was out of opt
ions.

He ripped the amulet from his neck and tossed it into the far corner of the hall. When Raniero’s eyes locked on his, he knew he was visible once a
gain.

“Dro
p it!”

Darian released his grip, his jaw clenching in anger as his sword clanged loudly to the f
loor.

“Well, killing Savino was much easier than I had anticipated,” Raniero said, smiling. “And, when you are both dead, then I shall finally become king, thanks to Ma
rino!”

Marisa and Darian exchanged sad gla
nces.

“What a shame to kill such a beautiful young woman—especially one who looks so much like my Elyse. Do you know that she and I loved each o
ther?”

“She didn’t love you, you monster,” she cried, railing against him. “You killed
her!”

Raniero gripped her tighter. “No, I did not! I loved your mother. I would never have done anything to hurt
her!”

“You murdered her and made it look like a sui
cide!”

“No! I did
not
kill her!
She—”

His face scrunched up in horror as he looked down and saw the bloody point of a sword sticking out from his right shoulder. He released his grip on her, touching instead the bloody blade protruding through him. Collapsing onto his knees, he fell over onto his
side.

Slowly Loris moved into view, his eyes seething. He withdrew Domenico’s broadsword from Raniero’s shoulder, keeping it pointed at him as he removed the Ambrogia stone from his neck. He bent over and stared coldly into his uncle’s eyes, sizing up the man who had betrayed his entire fa
mily.

“And that was for our mother, Queen E
lyse!”

Darian ran over to Marisa, embracing her tightly as his heart exploded with emotion. Feeling her slip from consciousness, he lowered himself to the floor and laid her against him, stroking her hot, sweaty cheeks as his eyes quickly sought L
oris.

“Squire, go get help. H
urry.”

Loris ran over to the large oaken door and unbolted it, running out into the corridor just as Savino’s warriors rushed in to see what had happened. After briefly surveying the hall, they turned to Darian questioni
ngly.

“Remove the bodies of Savino and Lord Raniero, then take the other two warriors out and bury them as well,” he commanded, still holding Marisa in his
arms.

The warrior paused. “The king is dead? Did you kill
him?”

“Yes, the king is dead. And no, I did not kill him.” He nodded toward Marisa. “She
did.”

“But, Sire, I do not unders
tand.”

“Princess Maraya is the true Supreme R
uler.”

“Yes—that I understand. But, to beg your pardon, Sire, where is the body of Lord Ran
iero?”

Darian glanced over where Loris’ uncle had fa
llen.

Gone.

CHAPTER 39

RESTORATION

Celino stared out across the water at the sunset as they approached Crocetta harbor, the cold wind biting his cheeks as it blew across his face. He was familiar with the warning signs of a heart attack, and the pain he had been experiencing since a few days before was worrying him. He had felt a powerful electric shock in his chest just as strong as if someone had used a defibrillator on him. When he saw King Bertoldo strolling across the deck, he walked over to speak with
him.

“I beg your pardon, Your Majesty, but do you have a doctor on board?” he asked. “I think I may have had a heart at
tack.”

Bertoldo’s eyes narrowed at his. “Strange that you should mention it,
but—”

“Hey!” a man shouted from the crow’s nest. “What
is
that out there? Do you see
that?”

Several members of the crew ran to the starboard, leaning out over the railing. Chattering and pointing at something between the blue-sailed ships of Bertoldo’s flotilla, they rubbed their eyes and then peered out again at the incredible s
ight.

“Well, I’ll be a son-of-a-gun,” Celino said, smi
ling.

Marisa was in the middle of a pleasant dream. Darian’s lips were pressed against hers, kissing her softly.
It feels so real,
she thought. Were they dead? Maybe they were in heaven toge
ther.

If this is heaven, I lik
e it.

“Are you awake, Maraya?” Someone was stroking her
hand.

Her eyelids fluttered open to see Darian’s scraggly face hovering inches above hers. She raised her hand to his cheek, feeling the bushiness of his beard. “You need to shave,” she said in a
daze.

“She will be all right,” he said, chuckling. “I believe the fever has finally br
oken.”

“Darian?” she asked questioni
ngly.

“You have been asleep for two days, my
love.”

“Marisa,” Matilda said in a soft voice. “You are going to be fine. Just rest for now; you must get better for your corona
tion.”

“Corona
tion?”

“Here, take one of your small white wonders,” Darian said, handing her an asp
irin.

She took the pill and lifted the cup of water to her lips. Her throat felt parched as she swallowed long gulps of the cool water. Glancing around the room, she saw that they were in Darian’s chambers and a wave of relief washed over her as she realized they were finally out of da
nger.

There was a soft knock at the door. Matilda rose to open it. Hushed voices whispered in the corridor. A moment later, Matilda returned to her bed
side.

“Who was
that?”

“Someone I think you will be eager to
see.”

“Hey,
Sis!”

“Mark! When did you get back? Where’s Ce
lino?”

“We docked about a half hour ago and you’re never gonna believe what’s happened!” Mark grinned at her. “King Bertoldo has sent his entire fleet, but it looks as if we’re too late. Did we miss all the ac
tion?”

She smiled. “Yeah, you kinda
did.”

“Did Adalina return with you?” Darian a
sked.

Mark shook his head. “Naw, Celino made her stay back in Terracina. He said we’d send for her as soon as everything was safe and back to normal
here.”

“Where is Ce
lino?”

Mark shrugged. “Beats me. But he said he was coming to the castle l
ater.”

“How did you convince him to let you come?” she a
sked.

He grinned sheepishly. “I was a stow
away.”

There was another knock at the door. Darian stood up to open it, returning shortly with a lanky young man. “Marisa and Mark, there is someone here that I would like for you to meet,” he announced. “This is your brother, Marino Fiore. Otherwise known as L
oris.”

“Brother?” Mark ec
hoed.

Marisa held her hand out to Loris, raising up on her elbow and patting a place on the bed next to her. As he took her hand, she gazed into the eyes that reminded her instantly of their fath
er’s.

“Welcome to the family, Loris Ma
rino.”

She threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly. Mark joined in from behind to form a group hug. Something about the three of them being reunited after so many years touched her deep down into her soul. At last, the missing piece of their family’s puzzle had finally been fitted into p
lace.

“I have always wanted siblings,” Loris said, smi
ling.

Cinzia, Arrie, Tino and Alessio burst into the room and rushed over to the bed. There were hugs all around until Helena noticed her daughter was missing. “But where is Ada
lina?”

“She’s safe in Terracina,” Mark said. “We can send for her any
time.”

Noticing the lost look on Loris’ face, Marisa interrupted the reunion to make an announcement. “Uncle Al, Aunt Cinzia, Helena and Tino, I would like to introduce you to our youngest brother, Prince Marino Fiore. Also known as L
oris.”

Alessio looked at him in wonder. “Young man, I am your uncle—your
real
uncle.” He pulled him in, wrapping him in a tight bear
hug.

“This shall require a little getting used to,” Loris said, visibly overcome by emo
tion.

“Hmm, where have I heard that before?” Marisa j
oked.

Alessio smiled tearfully, amazed to see his youngest nephew after all these years. “Dear boy, you are the spitting image of your father. And me, of co
urse.”

“Let us give the princess some time to rest,” Darian said. “I have arranged a meal for us in a few hours. Let us all take some time and then meet back for an early di
nner.”

As they filed out of the room, he pulled Mark aside. “I need to speak to King Bertoldo. Will you take me to
him?”

“Sure,” Mark said. “Follo
w me.”

Darian leaned down to kiss her. “I shall be back
soon.”

“You’d better.” Happy that he was back home alive, she promised herself that she would never complain about anything ever a
gain.

After the fleet had docked, Bertoldo’s army marched up through the city, prepared to retake the citadel, but most of the remaining warriors had already deserted the moment they heard that their leader was dead. In the two days since King Savino’s death, much of the order had already been rest
ored.

But there was still one important mission to fulfill that was weighing heavily on Darian’s mind, and he knew he would have no peace until it had been completed. And so when Mark escorted King Bertoldo into the Crimson Antechamber, Darian rose to greet the allied monarch with every ounce of gratitude he
had.

“Your Majesty, I just cannot begin to thank you enough for coming to our
aid.”

“Your Highness, I am most happy to be of assistance.” Bertoldo smiled warmly at him. “Any excuse to get me out of the comfort of my palace makes me happy,” he added, chuck
ling.

“Your palace is beautiful enough to make any king env
ious.”

“Perhaps, while I am here, we can carry out those long overdue discussions on an alliance between Crocetta and Terracina?” Bertoldo suggested with a
wink.

Darian smiled solemnly, clapping a friendly hand on his shoulder. “I know that I speak for the Princess Regent when I say that there is nothing we would like more than a strong alliance with Terra
cina.”

“Ah, that is most refreshing to hear.” Bertoldo turned to face him. “There is the matter requiring some delicacy that I am afraid must be addressed rather
soon.”

“Which matter are you referrin
g to?”

Bertoldo paused. “The longstanding pact established years ago between the Fiore and Macario houses. An alliance by marr
iage.”

“Ah, yes.” he said slowly, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “We shall discuss that while you are here with us. But, first, I am afraid that I have a grim but most important favor to ask of you, before any more time pa
sses.”

Bertoldo gestured. “Please, anyt
hing.”

“Several days ago, my army was ambushed by Savino’s warriors on our way to Abbadon and there was a horrible slaughter. Nearly a thousand slain bodies of my men still lie near the Mychen Forest. I was able to escape and return to the city with a small band of men, but we have had neither the time nor the manpower to go back and bury the
dead—”

“Say no more,” Bertoldo interrupted. “I shall send my men there at once. And I can assure you that each one of them shall receive a proper soldier’s bu
rial.”

“Thank you, Sire. I am most grateful. Will you please do us the honor of joining us this evening for a ban
quet?”

“Your Highness, it is I who would be hon
ored.”

Later that evening in the Knight’s Hall, there was a modest yet somber dinner. Everyone sitting at that table felt blessed just to be alive. As Darian, Marisa, King Bertoldo, Mark, Loris, Alessio, Cinzia, Helena, Matilda, Tino, Celino, Talvan, Baron Porfiro, Lord Aurelio, Count Vittore, Lord Patrizio, Adamo and Ilario lifted their glasses, the room fell silent. All eyes were drawn to the four empty chairs belonging to Eman, Cozimo, Lord Domenico and Bruno. With heads bowed and hands crossed, each person remembered the men who had fallen with dignity and spirit for a few sacred mom
ents.

“Ap eirie,” Darian whispered finally, lifting his go
blet.

“Ap eirie,” the voices echoed somberly around the t
able.

Tears spilled from Marisa’s eyes as she remembered Cozimo, Bruno, Domenico and Eman. Each of them had taught her so much in a short time. The small group of solemn faces sat with their heads bowed, contemplating the precious souls that had been
lost.