The Carnelian Tyranny: Savino’s Revenge (8 page)

BOOK: The Carnelian Tyranny: Savino’s Revenge
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“Marry her? Uncle Al and my mo
ther?”

“Yes,” Cinzia said, giggling. “Your mother glared defiantly at those big blue eyes staring out from the helmet and stated in no uncertain terms that she would never marry
him.

“After Alessio insisted that he would marry her someday, your father announced that they had long been expected at the castle. They bid us farewell and continued on up the hill. As soon as the men were out of sight, we dropped our baskets and ran to the castle as fast as we could, giggling all the
way.

“We snuck in through the rear gate and hurried back to change into our reception gowns before any of the palace servants could spot us. But we never reached her chambers. Once we were inside the palace, His Majesty’s Lord Chamberlain stopped us and informed your mother that she had been summoned to appear at once before her father, the
king.

“When we entered the Knight’s Hall, the members of the royal delegation from Terracina were already there, smiling in amusement at our, shall we say, understated attire. Your grandfather fought to hide his amusement as he watched his daughter greet her future spouse in clothes covered in berry stains. King Cerrino asked Prince Alano to step forward and introduce himself to his daughter, Princess E
lyse.

“To our surprise, the young man with the palm crest on his breastplate took two steps backward. Then the man whom we
thought
was your uncle stepped forward and removed his helmet. He bowed grandly your mother, kissed her hand and declared with a twinkle in his eye, ‘It is a pleasure to meet you, Princess Elyse. It is my honor and extreme privilege to marry
you.’

“When we saw the same lopsided grin on both of their faces, we realized that they were twins. Your mother blushed ten shades of red upon discovering that the joke was on
her.”

“I wish I’d been there to see
that!”

“Oh, how I laughed that
day!”

“But how did he know that the peasant girl was my mother if they’d never seen each other be
fore?”

“Many months before, Prince Alano had commissioned the best painter in all of the southern kingdoms to visit Crocetta, posing as a Terracine ambassador. The ‘diplomat’ stayed at the citadel as a guest of King Cerrino for four weeks, acquainting himself with the whole family and painting your mother’s portrait in se
cret.

“After a month, he returned to Terracina with the completed portrait and a lengthy report for the prince on his future wife and her family. So when the brothers arrived in Crocetta the day before your mother’s birthday ball, Alano already knew what your mother looked like and recognized her in the meadow. That same portrait still hangs in the main foyer above the st
airs.”

“That’s the first time I’ve ever heard that s
tory.”

“And it is such a nice story.” Cinzia smoothed down her dress and smiled at her. “Your mother had the gift of wit, but, with your father, she had met her match. I have greatly missed her company over the y
ears.”

The room grew silent as the baroness brushed away a tear with her handkerchief. Finally she straightened, ready to get back to business. “And now, we must prepare you to take her p
lace.”

CHAPTER 8

CONTRIVANCES

After her lesson with Cinzia, it was time for Marisa to meet Darian outside the Knight’s Hall. By the time she reached the door, he was already there, leaning agains
t it.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, apologizing. “Things went over a bit with the baroness. She was telling me a nice story about my
mom.”

He smiled gently. “There is no need to apologize. People are accustomed to waiting for
you.”

“Yeah, but my dad always said not to keep people wai
ting.”

“You are so thoughtful—always thinking of ot
hers.”

Flashing his signature grin, he cupped a hand over her cheek and leaned down to kiss her. His other hand slid around her back, pulling her tightly against him and making her forget why they were there. She exhaled a sigh as he released her and offered her his
arm.

“Shall we go in, Your High
ness?”

A groan escaped her lips. “If we
must.”

Following him into the massive Knight’s Hall, Marisa’s eyes roamed the dim, cathedral-like space with its indigo ceiling and gold trim, dark wooden beams and crystal chandeliers with hundreds of candles. The cold bareness of the space seemed to be in stark contrast to the lively dinners and enchanting balls that they had hosted over the past few mo
nths.

Spotting the circles of swords and coats-of-arms covering the pale stone walls, she searched until her eyes finally stopped on the Fiore wheel of weapons high above
them.

“Wondering where yours will be placed?” he a
sked.

“No, I’m just amazed at the wide range of styles represented up on that wall.” She pointed at different blades within the same circle. “Look at those two, for example. Each one has its own unique characteristics that say something about the owner. It makes me wonder what each of these kings and queens were
like.”

“Indeed,” he said, following her gaze. “And what will your sword say about you? When future generations look back on the reign of Queen Maraya, what do you wish for them to
see?”

“Hmm, I haven’t decided that
yet.”

“Well, hopefully you shall have many more years for history to decide.” He steered her toward the large wooden door framed by a carved stone archway. “Come; the men are wai
ting.”

As he opened the door for her, several knights in rich tunics and heavy cloaks rose to their feet, bowing solemnly to her. Tino shut the door behind them, sealing it with a loud clang. Marisa glanced around the chamber and noticed that there were several empty ch
airs.

Taking her place at the head of the table, she banged the wooden gavel on the sound block, exchanging worried glances with Darian. “I hereby call this session of the Crimson Court to order,” she said in her very best Crocine. “All those present shall sound off for the ro
ster.”

One by one, the men seated around the table stood and announced their n
ames.

“Count Dur
ante—”

“Lord Ar
royo—”

“Lord Dome
nico—”

“Lord E
nnio—”

“—Baron Por
firo”

“Lord Qui
rino—”

“Count Vit
tore—”

“Lord D
rago—”

“Lord Br
izio—”

“—Lord El
iseo”

“—Baron Ru
fino”

“Sir Nes
tore—”

“Lord Aur
elio—”

“—Count Lea
ndro”

“Baron Mac
ario—”

“Lord Mac
ario—”

“Lord Patr
izio—”

“Prince F
iore—”

“Princess F
iore—”

“So shall it be entered in the records that the previously-mentioned men are hereby present and accounted
for.”

“So shall it be noted,” Tino answ
ered.

“May I ask why seven men are absent from this mee
ting?”

The men exchanged puzzled glances across the table, but no one spoke. Finally, Lord Patrizio stoo
d up.

“Your Royal Highnesses, I humbly submit that we must assume these men have defected in favor of Count Savino da Rocha. They have not been seen in Crocetta since the last session of the Crimson Court more than a week
ago.”

“Thank you, Lord Patrizio. Everyone, be se
ated.”

Darian remained standing. “The first order of business is to discuss the continued threats of the Count Savino da Rocha against this Court, against me and against Her Royal Highness the Princess Regent, Maraya Fiore. Lord Brizio, I believe you have an update on these mat
ters?”

A dark-haired man in his mid-thirties with a long nose, a mustache and a beard rose to his feet. “Your Royal Highnesses,” he began. “Our spies have delivered some grave news. They have informed us that the Count da Rocha is planning an assassina
tion.”

He placed a small wooden box on the table and unlatched the lid, dumping the contents onto the table. “A few days ago, the count dispatched a courier to deliver these torn pieces of the treaty to the palace. No message was incl
uded.”

“May I ask how your informant obtained this news?” Darian a
sked.

“He overheard the Count da Rocha himself, discussing it at a secret meeting at Abb
adon.”

“Do we know when it will ha
ppen?”

“No, Your Highness,” Brizio said. “Our spy was unable to provide us with specific information about the attack. However, the most logical time to strike would be some time before the coronation three weeks h
ence.”

“And Savino’s primary targe
t is…?”

Brizio looked apologetically at Marisa. “We must assume it is Her Royal High
ness.”

“I see. Is that
all?”

“Not quite, I am afraid. We have also learned that Savino is planning to eliminate the Order of the Crimson Paladin Knights. And not just in Crocetta; in all of the ten king
doms.”

The room burst into chatter as the men discussed the alarming development amongst themselves. Marisa stared at the torn pieces scattered across the table, struggling to come to terms with the fact that someone wanted her
dead.

Weeks earlier at her birthday ball, she had seen the venom in Savino’s eyes when she rejected his marriage proposal and knew that nothing would prevent him from carrying out his th
reat.

She studied the faces of the men gathered in the Crimson Antechamber. Each of them exhibited a great amount of influence in the city, but they could only offer a limited amount of protection if Savino had put a price on her
head.

Her eyes rested on a portly, middle-aged man with dark reddish hair and a handlebar mustache. He was sitting quietly in his chair, listening to the other knights as they discussed the action that should be t
aken.

“What is your recommendation, Lord Drago?” she asked as the room fell si
lent.

“Your Highness?” Drago asked, glancing up in surp
rise.

“How do you suggest we thwart Savino’s plans,
Sire?”

“Ah, Your Highness, it would be—uh, most wise to split Your Highnesses up into separate locations. In the event of an attack, at least one of you would survive. If the count were to succeed in killing one of you, tragic as it may be, there would still be another Fiore left to
rule.”

“I see. If Prince Darian were to remain at Crocetta Castle, where would you suggest that I
hide?”

“But, Your Highness—” Darian b
egan.

She held up a hand to silence
him.

“Your Highness, if I may,” Drago interrupted, “the estate at Castle Beauriél is an excellent location. It has controlled access and with extra guards posted around the perimeter, we could sufficiently safeguard Your Royal Highness. The count is yet unaware of your intent to reside there, so, in that respect, we would have the
edge.”

“Does anyone have any other suggest
ions?”

Count Vittore stood. “I concur with Lord Drago’s assessment. The most acceptable solution would be for you to remain within the confines of Castle Beauriél. It is the only place outside of the citadel walls where we can guarantee your sa
fety.”

Baron Porfiro stood. “Your Highnesses, I must object to Lord Drago’s proposal. I do not believe it would be an acceptable location for Her Highness, nor do I believe that her safety can be guaranteed outside of the citadel. I would recommend an armed retreat to Terra
cina.”

Marisa and Darian exchanged gla
nces.

“Your Highnesses,” Drago said quickly. “I would recommend a hasty move to Beauriél—the sooner the be
tter.”

“The advice of this Court is duly noted and will be considered. Are there any outstanding issues still pen
ding?”

She paused for a moment, but no one s
poke.

“Then this session is hereby closed and we are adjourned until further notice. Thank you all for co
ming.”

As the men stood to leave, she remained in her seat. When the last man had gone, Darian shut the door and walked back over, leaning thoughtfully against the table. “What are you thin
king?”

“I’m thinking that a move out to Beauriél doesn’t sound like such a great idea after
all.”

“Why the sudden change of h
eart?”

“I saw the evil in Savino’s eyes when I refused to marry him and it terrified me.” She stared at the torn pieces of parchment on the table. “If he’s planning to kill either of us or both, something tells me he’s going to suc
ceed.”

He bent down next to her. “You forget how many men are protecting you, my
love.”

“It’s not my safety I’m worried about.” She quickly got up from her chair, embracing him tightly. “I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to
you.”

“Shhh, nothing is going to happen to me,” he whispered. “But I do think you should stay at the citadel and allow me to go to Beau
riél.”

“No, Darian. You’ve managed to run this country without me. If something were to happen to you, we’d all be
lost.”

“But your safety is more important
than—”

“As the Princess Regent, I command you to stay at the castle. I’ll go to Beauriél.” She hated pulling rank on him, but it was the only way he would li
sten.

He sighed. “As your subordinate, I cannot refuse your wishes, but I can do this my way,” he said. “I shall triple the guards out there starting t
oday.”

“If Savino’s plan is to break us apart, he seems to be succee
ding.”

“It will only be temporary, dea
rest.”

“I have this awful feeling that something bad is going to ha
ppen.”

“Come now, you must have faith,” he said softly. “I shall make arrangements for your move into Beauriél tomo
rrow.”

“So soon? What about my coronation preparations, language lessons, self-defense and all that other s
tuff?”

“We shall continue your instruction at Beauriél. You are, after all, the Princess Regent. We shall come to
you.”

“I think I was better off as plain old Ma
risa.”

He smiled. “Come, we need to inform the fa
mily.”

Once their families were seated around the long dinner table, Darian and Marisa recounted their meeting of the Crimson Court, informing them of Lord Drago’s suggestion for her to move out to Beau
riél.

Alessio finished the last bite from his plate and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “I’m coming with you,” he
said.

Everyone tu
rned.

“Coming where, Uncl
e Al?”

“Castle Beauriél,” he said matter-of-factly. “A year ago, I promised your dad that I would protect you, come what may. And I’m not backing down
now.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” she said, shaking her
head.

“I’m coming too,” Mark annou
nced.

“No, you’re not!” Marisa shot back. “I don’t want you and Uncle Al out there risking your lives on my acc
ount.”

“Your Highness, it would be safer for you to have them out there with you,” Darian said. Then he turned to Mark. “Prepare your things to move out to Beauriél as soon as poss
ible.”

“Da
rian!”

Glaring at him angrily, she got up from the table and ran out of the hall, storming down the corridor. Surprised by her sudden outburst, Darian stood up and hurried after her. He quickly caught up with her, grabbing her arm and wheeling her around to face
him.

BOOK: The Carnelian Tyranny: Savino’s Revenge
3.86Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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