The Carnelian Tyranny: Savino’s Revenge Page 7

  In the few short months since she’d been living in Carnelia, the necessity to understand the complex structure of Carnelian society became important to her. Protocol was a vital tool that provided the groundwork for kingdoms to interact with mutual respect and understanding. Without it, diplomacy would simply come to a halt.

  “Now then, Your Highness, how would you address an official representative of Terracina?”

  “That’s easy,” Marisa answered. “Ambassador.”

  “And?”

  “His or Her Excellency.”

  “Very good.”

  “I learned that on my first day in Carnelia.” She smiled, remembering the first time she saw Darian.

  “Indeed,” Cinzia replied. “You shall not forget that day for the rest of your life. I still remember the day I met your uncle. It was the same day your parents met as well.”

  “Ooh, tell me!”

  Her aunt’s dark eyes sparkled. “Your mother was still a young princess back then. I was her lady-in-waiting and her dearest friend.”

  “I didn’t realize the two of you were so close.”

  Cinzia nodded. “We were very close. So close that your Aunt Sophie became jealous.”

  “Matilda’s mother?”

  “I never meant to come between them, but, somehow, I did.”

  “So how did you meet Uncle Al?”

  “Well, although your parents had been betrothed from birth, they did not actually meet until just a few months before the wedding. For your mother’s eighteenth birthday, King Cerrino and Queen Anna decided that they should be introduced, so they invited Prince Alano and Baron Macario to attend your mother’s royal birthday ball. In the week before the planned celebration, they made the journey across the sea from Terracina.

  “Elyse loved playing practical jokes, so naturally she decided to play one on her future husband. She said that we should pretend to be peasants picking berries in the Marken Meadow, knowing full well that your father and his men would have to pass through there on their way up to the castle.

  “As the delegation of knights approached, we smiled and curtseyed, flirting at them with our baskets full of berries. We knew that it was your father, Prince Alano, riding out in front because of the palm crest on his breastplate. He nodded politely but did not stop until your uncle leaned over and whispered something to him.

  “Alano suddenly stopped his horse and dismounted. Then he approached us and asked us where we were from. We told him that we lived in the city. Your uncle introduced himself as well, taking my hand and bowing politely but not removing his helmet.

  “Then Alessio took your mother’s hand and just stared at her, completely mesmerized. He said nothing, those clear blue eyes unwavering as they studied her face.

  “We chatted for a few minutes, your mother and I both fighting to keep a straight face. Then, Alano smiled at something I said and I lost my heart to him right there. He was so handsome and dashing.”

  “Wait—you fell in love with my father?”

  “Just wait, dear; let me finish the story,” Cinzia said, laughing. “When your uncle finally spoke, he asked your mother for her name. She smiled smugly at him, telling him that she would never reveal it—he would have to discover it for himself.

  “Your uncle laughed under his helmet and said most confidently that not only would he discover her name, but that he would marry her as well.”

  “Marry her? Uncle Al and my mother?”

  “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 Elyse.

  “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 before?”

  “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 secret.

  “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 stairs.”

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

  “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 years.”

  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 place.”

  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 against 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 waiting.”

  “You are so thoughtful—always thinking of others.”

  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 Highness?”

  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 months.

  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.

  “Wonde
ring where yours will be placed?” he asked.

  “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 waiting.”

  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 chairs.

  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 roster.”

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

  “Count Durante—”

  “Lord Arroyo—”

  “Lord Domenico—”

  “Lord Ennio—”

  “—Baron Porfiro”

  “Lord Quirino—”

  “Count Vittore—”

  “Lord Drago—”

  “Lord Brizio—”

  “—Lord Eliseo”

  “—Baron Rufino”

  “Sir Nestore—”

  “Lord Aurelio—”

  “—Count Leandro”

  “Baron Macario—”

  “Lord Macario—”

  “Lord Patrizio—”

  “Prince Fiore—”

  “Princess Fiore—”

  “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 answered.

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

  The men exchanged puzzled glances across the table, but no one spoke. Finally, Lord Patrizio stood 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 seated.”

  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 matters?”

  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 assassination.”

  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 included.”

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

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

  “Do we know when it will happen?”

  “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 hence.”

  “And Savino’s primary target is…?”

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

  “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 kingdoms.”

  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 threat.

  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 taken.

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

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

  “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 began.

  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 suggestions?”

  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 safety.”

  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 Terracina.”

  Marisa and Darian exchanged glances.

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

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

  She paused for a moment, but no one spoke.

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

  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 thinking?”

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

  “Why the sudden change of heart?”

  “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 succeed.”

  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 Beauriél.”

  “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 listen.

  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 today.”

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

  “It will only be temporary, dearest.”

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

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

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

  “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 Marisa.”

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

  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 Beauriél.

  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 turned.

  “Coming where, Uncle 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.”