The Carnelian Legacy (11 page)

With no desire to be a part of the warriors’ lewd conversations laced with male humor and raucous laughter, Marisa stayed on the outermost edges of the formation and focused on the beauty of the magnificent nature surrounding them. She stared up into the sky and noticed that the heavens were such a brilliant color of blue with only a few puffs of clouds here and there. The leaves were turning into their fall colors just as they had back in Oregon and as far as she could tell, Carnelia’s seasons were the same as on Earth.

Her focus on the breathtaking scenery slowly drifted as thoughts of the handsome young ambassador invaded her mind. The fact that she could not stop thinking about him bothered her. Since Darian rode behind her on the opposite side, she was grateful not to have his handsome form as a constant distraction within her range of vision.

As Marisa turned to peek at Darian, she was once again met by his unsmiling, stony expression. She looked away. Why did he act so pleasant to her one minute, only to flip over to extreme coldness the next?

She remembered Arrie’s comment about how complicated Darian was. Obviously, there was much more to this young man than meets the eye. No matter how attractive he was, though, she just could not fall for him. Her heart had been shattered once before, and she didn’t care to relive that again anytime soon.

Just one week before graduation and on the night of their senior prom, Marisa had been humiliated in front of the entire school when Troy Matthews had taken off with her good friend Michaela Adams. Looking back now, it had been nothing more than a brief obsession, but at the time, it had seemed like the end of her world.

But with Darian, things were different. He wasn’t some hick-town quarterback with a pickup truck and his daddy’s credit card. Darian was already a key player in the power and politics of the country and he was more than capable of doing serious damage to a girl’s heart.

She shifted her attention back to their surroundings. For the next few hours, the group climbed higher toward the snow-capped peaks. They crossed alpine meadows where flowers in every color of the rainbow dotted the pastures like colorful mosaics. Later, they passed through narrow valleys where emerald hills climbed steeply at sixty-degree angles.

As the men’s chatter eventually fell silent, Marisa closed her eyes and listened to the horses’ hooves meeting the road. Birds squawked high in the air, and for a few minutes, none from the party disturbed the majestic stillness.

No car horns, no sirens. No jet planes overhead, no throngs of people yammering into their cell phones or shouting to hail a cab. The breathtaking beauty engulfed and soothed her, and for a little while at least, her soul felt at peace.

As the party descended over the rocky terrain, Marisa leaned out around the soldier to check on Arrie. Although his face was pale from exhaustion and he winced each time the horse stepped into a rut, he seemed to be recovering. One of the warriors had bound his wound to help prevent it from becoming infected.

Satisfied that he was okay, her thoughts turned to Mark and Uncle Al. They must have gotten really worried when she never came home the night before. Members of the Jacksonville police, neighbors, and other friends in their tight-knit community had probably been up all night combing the area for her. Her uncle had probably figured out early on where she’d gone. If she ever made it back home, she could expect a serious grounding. She didn’t care, as long as it meant getting back home safe and sound again.

Her eyes moistened as she thought of all the people worrying about her. The burden of what her friends and family must be feeling made her cry. As the tears began to overflow and run down her cheeks, the bottled-up emotions from previous days erupted to the surface. For the first time in her life, she couldn’t go to her father to make it all better. She leaned her head against Siena’s and cried.

Talvan spotted her slumped over her horse and removed his helmet. When he saw Marisa sobbing, he quickly spun around and motioned to Darian.

“Time to stop for a break,” Talvan shouted. The men saw Marisa’s head buried in Siena’s mane and exchanged knowing glances.

Darian turned to the youngest warrior. “Take the horses down to let them drink.”

“Yes, sire.”

All of the men except Arrie and Talvan left with their horses to go down to the river.

“Why don’t you two rest by the river for a few minutes as well?” Darian suggested.

Talvan and Arrie both said nothing but just nodded and hurried off.

Marisa wiped her eyes and climbed down but clung to her horse. She pressed her cheek against Siena’s as her weeping turned into sobbing.

All of a sudden, strong arms enveloped her and Marisa turned her tearstained face toward Darian’s. As he gazed down at her, she thought he was going to kiss her but he pulled her tightly into his chest instead. He stroked her hair softly as she mourned the father she’d never see again.

“Marisa, I’m truly sorry. The worst kind of pain the world has to offer can be found in losing a loved one.”

As her cheek pressed firmly against him, she could hear his heart beating, solid and strong. Slowly, she opened her eyes and saw that they were all alone.

“Sit here while I fetch you a drink of water,” he said.

Once he was out of sight, she wiped her tears on her sleeve and groaned, knowing that she must look awful.

From out of nowhere, a distant memory flashed through her mind. Marisa was only seven when she was out walking in the woods with her father after the death of her mother. He had explained to Marisa that there was no such thing as coincidence and that everyone’s fate was ruled by their destiny. Wondering how her coming to Carnelia figured into her fate, destiny, or whatever one wanted to call it, Marisa was starting to doubt that she had any sort of control over anything at all.

Darian hurried back with a cup of water and handed it to her. The men were starting to return and he commanded Arrie to take Siena down to the river. As they waited for him to return, the gold-toothed warrior smiled smugly at her.

“Like I was saying before, women should stay in the kitchen where they belong—not on a man’s journey!” He snickered as the other warriors roared in laughter.

“Deimos!” Talvan shouted, “That’s enough!”

Marisa covered her face with her hands. Something inside of her snapped and she decided it was time for her to stop relying on others. From that moment on, she would be on her own.

Silently telling herself to toughen up, she climbed back into the saddle. As the party continued along the mountain road, Marisa fought the urge to look back at Darian. Starting today, she would only look forward and not back, both literally and figuratively.

Hours later, a weariness caused by a lack of sleep began to weigh Marisa down. She started to nod off, but as soon as one of the men whistled, she sat up quickly. They were just rounding the final turn in the mountain as Talvan gestured toward the imposing fortress at Abbadon.

Perched high on a rocky cliff like a crouching cougar surveying its domain, the ominous, gray castle did not appear either welcoming or friendly. A small city cowered against the fortress on all sides, and the entire region seemed enshrouded in a cloud of darkness.

Darian ordered two warriors ahead to inform the castle of the approaching delegation and to request that preparations be made for one extra female guest.

When Marisa saw the castle looming in the distance, the surreal nature of the situation smacked her head on. The fantastical notion of being escorted by an ambassador and giant warriors up a mountain ridge toward a medieval castle was simply impossible in her mind. Although she knew by now that she wasn’t dreaming, she still fought the logic in her even being there.

The company reached the town at the foot of the castle and weaved its way through the narrow streets as people stopped to bow and curtsey. Darian smiled politely and waved, even stopping to shake a few hands.

They made their way up the hill and approached the main gate of the castle. An old woman stepped forward and offered Marisa an apple. Smiling gratefully, she took it from her. But before she could take a bite, Deimos ripped it from her hand and hurtled it through the air. The piece of fruit bounced off a rooftop, rolled down into the gutter, and disappeared.

“Stupid, foolish girl! It might be poisoned,” Deimos snapped.

Marisa glared at him, angry and confused. She didn’t think the woman was trying to poison her, but she wasn’t in a position to protest. The old woman cowered back in fear from the angry soldier.

The screeching noise of metal scraping metal caught everyone’s attention as the iron gate of the castle slowly raised in front of them. As the horses moved under the stone archway, Marisa looked up and saw the giant spikes of the portcullis. The small company entered the cobblestone courtyard where two rows of warriors stood to receive them.

Once everyone was inside, the gate was lowered and Marisa glanced back just in time to watch it clang shut. She couldn’t shake the feeling that they’d just been locked inside a prison.

Darian dismounted and strode over to assist Marisa. She ignored him and climbed down by herself as he stared in bewilderment, stunned by her obvious snub.

Sensing the awkward moment, Arrie bowed and ushered Darian to the inner courtyard, where their host waited to greet them. Marisa trailed a few steps behind and tapped on her earpiece, not wanting to miss a single word.

“Ah, Your Excellency, you have arrived at last,” said a rich, baritone voice. “Was your journey long and tedious?”

Curious to see the man addressing them, Marisa leaned around Darian’s full frame. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped.

CHAPTER 9

SAVINO

A
STRIKING
YOUNG
MAN
with pale blond hair, fair skin, and electric blue eyes stood to welcome them. Dressed in an elegant suit of charcoal armor, the master of Abbadon Castle stood almost as tall as Darian. Displaying an air of superiority and confidence, the man wore a devilish grin that made her wonder what nasty thoughts he was thinking. After he had gazed briefly at Darian and Arrie, his eyes settled on Marisa and he strolled over to meet her.

“But pray, who is this most gorgeous creature you have brought with you? Is this the celebrated beauty, the Princess Adalina?”

“No, Your Grace,” Darian said. “Allow me to introduce to you the Lady Marisa. She is a distant cousin of Lord Arrigo from Terracina.”

Marisa and Arrie exchanged bewildered glances. Aware of her dirty clothes, grimy shoes, and tear-stained face, Marisa stepped forward and curtseyed awkwardly.

“Milady has joined us on our journey and will be accompanying us to Crocetta at the conclusion of our stay in Abbadon,” Darian added matter-of-factly.

The blond man kissed her hand. “So, did you enjoy your journey here, Lady Marisa?”

Marisa quickly looked at Darian, flustered. Without missing a beat, he stepped up to answer his cousin. “Your Grace, unfortunately, Lady Marisa is a mute. She cannot speak, but she can hear and understand you perfectly.”

“A mute? What a perfect tragedy! A beautiful woman such as this with no voice to speak or sing?” A mischievous grin spread across his face. “Still, I’m sure there must be some rather compelling benefits to having a woman who cannot speak.” He turned to his aides, laughing at his own joke, and several other men joined in.