The Carnelian Legacy (33 page)

Garon, I don’t know which path to choose. Show me which way to go. Both ways seem like a dead end. If it isn’t possible to share a future with the man I love, should I go with the other? I don’t want to make the wrong decision, and I need help. I will try to trust you to help me find my way. Amen.

Still trying to keep her breathing under control, she grabbed the railing and slowly pulled herself up. She walked into the adjacent room, but the deathly stillness made her jittery. Somehow, being at Castle Beauriél without Darian felt eerie and the stillness of the house seemed unnatural. And all of a sudden, Marisa couldn’t imagine living in the castle alone.

Her eyes roamed the room. It was a large living area that connected to a dining hall. She peeked in and saw the long table that would seat at least sixteen people. Her fingers felt the smoothness of the table as she admired its hand-carved legs and matching chairs.

She pulled out a chair to feel its velvety cushion and suddenly the entire room sprung to life. The table was instantly filled with all kinds of foods and decorated in a festive manner for the holiday season. Each chair was occupied by a different family member as they all sat down to enjoy Christmas dinner.

The room was filled with laughter, smiles, and the mixed fragrance of delicious food and warm company. A young mother sat at the table facing her, and Marisa was stunned to see it was an older version of herself. Several children, aunts, and uncles were talking and laughing, enjoying the holiday feast together.

The vision of the family faded away, and in the place of the young mother, Marisa saw herself as an old woman sitting alone at the long table on Christmas Eve. She moved closer to observe her old self, but the wrinkle-faced woman was oblivious to her.

A servant brought her food on a silver tray, but the old woman didn’t even seem to notice as she sipped her wine in lonely silence. Marisa could smell the stench of regret hanging in the air as she reached out to touch the old woman’s face. Her hand went right through her as if she was a ghost and she quickly pulled it back again. The old woman could not see or hear Marisa as she dined alone in her solitude.

All of a sudden it occurred to her that she was seeing a glimpse of two distinct pathways for her life. One of them was just a possibility, and the other was destined to be.

But which was which?

The vision of the old woman faded away, and she moved to the glass doors to view the expansive gardens. Another vision materialized as she gazed outside and saw herself tossing a ball to her young son on a bright spring day. The boy was laughing, and she smiled to him while a little girl ran to grab her around the legs.

The three on the lawn slowly faded away, and instantly she saw the old woman version of herself resting in a chair on the terrace. She was bundled up in a blanket as she stared blankly into the forest. Dried leaves blew across the grass as the woman sipped her tea. Her face was worn with grief and loneliness. A tear rolled down Marisa’s cheek and she quickly looked away. When she looked again, the old woman was gone.

Marisa climbed the steps to take a look upstairs. The antique boards creaked under her weight as she walked down the long hallway and peeked into each of the bedrooms. When she came to the large chamber at the end of the hall, she stopped. The room was filled with luxurious furnishings and there was a large bed against the far wall. There were four large windows that looked out over the front of the house onto the driveway.

As she looked at the bed, Marisa saw herself once again as a mother reading a story to four small children all squashed under the covers on either side of her. When the story was over, the mother chased them all down the hall into their own bedrooms. Marisa watched with a smile as she kissed and tucked each one in.

Turning back toward the master bedroom, she saw herself as an old woman again, lying alone in the big bed. The woman had been reading, but she stopped to stare out the window just as the rain began to hit the window panes. She crept out of bed and sauntered down the hall, peering into each of the empty rooms. The woman’s lip quivered in melancholy and sadness as Marisa followed her down the hallway.

Unable to take anymore, Marisa flew down the stairs and out the front door. Slamming it shut, she quickly locked it with the key and ran over to her horse, desperate to get away as quickly as possible.

As Siena galloped up the gravel road as fast as she could, Marisa glanced over her shoulder and saw the old woman staring at her from the upper bedroom window and she shuddered. She dug her heels into Siena’s belly, pushing her as hard as she could go.

Once they were back on the main road toward town, she slowed Siena to a normal walk, still unable to shake the haunting visions. In her head, she was debating herself on whether she should still marry Savino. Certainly marrying him would be better than being alone for the rest of her life.

What am I thinking?

Savino was plotting to kill someone with poison. How could she marry a man like that? She sighed, completely confused about everything. Carnelia certainly was a strange place, and nothing was as it seemed.

Up ahead, a man was herding some sheep across the road but most of them had stopped right in the middle and were blocking it. The animals didn’t appear as if they were planning to move anytime soon.

The man turned his attention from his sheep and smiled gently at her. In his early thirties, the young man was dressed in old farming clothes, with a dark beard and large hat. He was tanned as if he had spent most of the day outdoors. Although his face was rather plain-looking, there was something pleasant and familiar in his expression. He smiled warmly at her.

“Good morning, milady. What are you doing out here on this chilly afternoon?” he asked.

Marisa dismounted and approached him cautiously. She shaded her eyes with her hand. “I came out to take look at my house,” she said. “It’s the big one over there with all the chimneys and the really long driveway,” she said, pointing to the forested area behind them.

“Ah, yes,” he said.

She stopped. “Sir, can you understand what I am saying?”

He nodded at her and smiled.

“Have we met?” she asked. “I have the strangest feeling that I know you from somewhere.”

“My name is Eman, milady. I’m exceedingly pleased to meet you,” he said with a low bow.

“I’m Marisa. Do you live nearby?”

“I reside over there, just beyond those trees—up on that hill.”

“Excuse me, sir, but how do you know English? Have you ever been to Earth? Maybe you know my friend Celino?”

Eman stared out into the hills, ignoring her questions. “What were you running away from just now?” he asked.

“Oh, I—uh, I was afraid.”

“Afraid of what?” His sparkling brown eyes seemed to dance.

“I don’t know—it’s kind of complicated. I guess I was worried about my future,” she said finally.

“Today has enough problems of its own. Do not worry about tomorrow, for it will take care of itself,” he said.

Marisa just nodded.

“The next time you are out here from the city, milady, I would be most honored if you would come visit me for tea,” he said softly.

“I’d like that. I’ll be living out here permanently starting the day after tomorrow, so I guess we’ll be neighbors. I can come once and borrow a cup of sugar,” she said dryly.

Eman smiled. “You had better be getting back now, milady. It is going to rain soon.” He herded his sheep off the road.

“Thank you, sir. I’ll come visit you the next time I come back.”

“Milady, the pleasure was all mine,” he said, tipping his hat.

CHAPTER 25

BURIALS

ON
THE
WAY
BACK
to Crocetta, Marisa thought about Eman. She knew she’d seen him before, but she couldn’t remember where and it was driving her crazy. The shops were all closed in respect to the king’s funeral, and there were only a few people still milling about on the city streets. Most were making their way back home.

She entered through the main gate and headed straight toward the stables, on her guard in case she should bump into Savino. Once Siena had been secured in her stall, Marisa snuck up to her room through the servants’ corridors which passed along the wine cellars.

Once she was back in her chambers, Marisa noticed that Anna had laid out a different gown for her to wear to the funeral. It was all black and made of a stiff material that reminded her of taffeta and it was much more formal than the dress she’d worn that morning.

The time on her phone read 12:43 p.m. She only had a few minutes before Cozimo would come to give her instructions. The water was cold as she quickly gave herself a sponge bath, but she didn’t have time to wait for hot water from the kitchen. She scrubbed her face and dried it before asking Anna to help her fasten the stiff corset. With the young woman’s assistance, she slipped into the black dress and Anna quickly braided her hair.

Marisa frowned when she looked in the mirror and saw the deathly pallor in her face. Still in shock from what she’d seen at Beauriél, she pinched her cheeks for a bit of color. There was a soft knock at the door.

Anna opened the door and Cozimo entered with the help of a walking stick. He bowed slowly, and Marisa remembered to curtsey.

“Milady, this shall be brief as the funeral is set to begin shortly,” he began slowly. “You shall assemble down at the main staircase thirty minutes from now. There shall be a short procession consisting of two rows that shall lead the funeral guests down toward the Knights’ Hall.”

He blinked absently as if he’d forgotten what to say.

“Leading the two lines will be His Royal Highness Prince Darian and the Viscount Savino da Rocha, followed respectively by Her Royal Highness Princess Adalina and Lady Matilda. The rest of the royal family and advisors shall follow in rank order. You shall walk with Lord Arrigo Macario, so if you have any questions, he shall be there, ready to assist you.”

The old man coughed several times and seemed to be having trouble breathing. Marisa was just about to call Anna to get him a glass of water when he cleared his throat loudly and continued with his instructions.

“Once the procession has reached the interior of the Knights’ Hall, everyone shall sit in the royal pews in the exact order they entered. At the conclusion of the service, the procession shall depart from the Knights’ Hall and cross the main courtyard.

“There, the casket shall be placed on a royal carriage and the procession shall make its way down through the city. This will allow the citizens of Crocetta ample time to offer their final farewell to His Royal Highness. Then it shall wind its way back up to the royal Crimson sepulcher, where the coffin shall be laid to rest.”

The old man stared at her. “Do you have any questions?”

She ran over the order of the events in her mind. It all seemed straightforward enough. “
Nyoit
,” Marisa said. She had managed to pick up a few basic words in Crocine.

“At the conclusion of the funeral service, which is expected to close at approximately four-thirty, a funeral banquet will be held. Again, you shall sit next to Lord Arrigo Macario at the place marked especially for you. When the feast has reached its conclusion, you shall be free to leave. Questions?”

The old man seemed to be out of breath as she shook her head.

“No?” Cozimo asked, giving her a curt nod. “Then that will be all. Milady, I shall see you at the banquet.”

He wobbled over to the door and bowed his head. She curtseyed to him and gently closed the door.

With still a few minutes before she had to report downstairs, her thoughts drifted back to Darian. He was probably used to briefings every day that mapped out his entire schedule minute-to-minute. It would be enough to drive a sane person to total madness. She was starting to understand what Darian had meant when he said he had no control over his own life.

Her father had always taught her never to judge a person until she had walked a mile in their shoes. But after just a few days at the castle, she was already starting to get calluses on her feet. Next to the importance of Darian’s life, her own insignificance became painfully clear.

In that moment, she suddenly wanted more. She wanted to be important—not for her own sake, but to make a difference. What good was a person’s life if they didn’t make some sort of positive impact for the better? Even the favorite toast of Carnelia had to do with a person fulfilling his destiny. But what was her destiny? And what role did she have to play in all this?

Marisa jumped as she noticed the time on her phone. She closed the door behind her and jogged down the hall as fast as she could move in the bulky dress. As she descended the grand staircase, sounds of loud chatter echoed up the vestibule. She was startled to discover a dense crowd of people waiting below to start the procession. As soon as she appeared, everyone stopped to stare.

Both Savino and Darian watched her from their spot at the front of the procession. The two men seemed to juxtapose each other perfectly, one with hair as dark as night and the other as bright as the sun. Marisa quickly found Arrie and he offered her an arm.