The Carnelian Tyranny: Savino’s Revenge (25 page)

A tall, lanky teenager stood in the doorway with an armful of firewood, sizing him up. He dropped the wood onto the floor, lunging for the knife on the counter. In the way he pointed it at him, Darian could tell that the young man had been well-trained in the ancient Carnelian art of dagger-due
ling.

CHAPTER 24

LORIS

“How did you get in here?” the boy dema
nded.

“I have no wish to duel you, my young friend,” Darian answered, raising his hands in surrender. The boy’s angry expression transformed into one of fear. He set the knife down slowly, raising his hands in the
air.

“Forgive me, Your Highness, I did not recognize
you.”

“You know who
I am?”

“Yes,” he said, pointing to his chest. “You bear the royal c
rest.”

Darian peered down at his breastplate.
This young man is well-trained, smart and obser
vant
.

“What is your name, sq
uire?”

“Loris,
Sire.”

Darian moved up closer to inspect the lanky boy, on his guard in case he was a traitor for Savino. With shaggy brown hair and light brown eyes, he couldn’t have been more than fifteen or six
teen.

“Tell me, Loris, can you help me by getting some hot bathwater, a needle and some thread? I need to get cleaned up and then rest for a little w
hile.”

“Yes, Sire. It would be an honor.” He nodded and ran
off.

Darian poured himself a cup of wine from a bottle in the cupboard and took a sip. He needed to think about his next move and what to do about Savino. When the boy returned a few minutes later with the needle and thread, Darian watched him build a
fire.

“So where has everyone gone? Why are you still here, L
oris?”

“Well, His Royal Highness Savino da Rocha has gone to Crocetta to claim his throne, and everyone else went with him. I was left here to take care of the castle until they return,” he said pro
udly.

“When will tha
t be?”

He shrugged. “I do not know. I was only told that he would be crowned king within the week and that he would return sometime after. I took this post at my uncle’s insistence that it would be decent pay for little
work.”

“Who is your u
ncle?”

“Lord Raniero. Perhaps you have heard of him,
Sire?”

Darian’s goblet froze in midair. “The name is familiar, but I cannot quite recall his face,” he answered sl
owly.

“My uncle has been gone for several years. He only just recently returned. We all thought that he had been lost when the
Carnelian
sank, but, fortunately, he survived the shipwreck and swam to a foreign shore.” He pumped the bellows onto the flames and then hung a kettle of water on the metal hook to let it
boil.

“Where is Lord Raniero now?” Darian asked, wincing as he lowered himself into a c
hair.

“He has gone to Crocetta,” Loris said cheerfully. “A couple months ago, he offered me the job of caretaker of the castle. My father is dead, so I need anything I can get to support my mo
ther.”

Darian suspected that his uncle had not told him everything and wondered if he knew what a monster his master
was.

“Loris, have you ever heard of Princess Maraya F
iore?”

He stood up and dusted off his hands, pausing to think for a moment before finally shaking his head. “No, Sire. Who is
she?”

“She is the daughter of Queen Elyse Fiore and the rightful heir. She has been in exile for many years, but, by the grace of Garon, has recently returned to Croc
etta.”

Loris stopped poking the fire. “But what about His Majesty Savino da R
ocha?”

He studied the boy’s freckly face. Savino had obviously been hiding the truth from everyone, including his own staff. “Whatever your uncle may have told you about Count da Rocha, he is not the rightful heir. He has taken Crocetta illegally and by f
orce.”

“But how is my uncle involved in all
this?”

“That I do not know, but I fully intend to uncover the truth. I can only pray that the princess is safe and that Savino has not killed her yet.” Suddenly, he was feeling exhausted. “And now, Loris, I really must rest for a while. I apologize for making you go to the extra trouble of preparing the water, but the bath will have to
wait.”

“Of course, Your Highness. It’s no trouble. Please follo
w me.”

Darian leaned on him, limping up the stairs one foot at a time. He recognized the same guest quarters where he had slept so many times before. The chamber was luxuriously appointed but this time, he would not enjoy it knowing that Marisa was still in da
nger.

Loris deposited him on the bed and turned to leave. “I shall be downstairs if you need anything, Sire,” he said, closing the door so
ftly.

Darian removed the cloth tied around his thigh, groaning when he saw the size of the wound. He took the needle, noticing his hand shaking as he tried to thread it. Rolling up a piece of cloth, he inserted it into his mouth and bit down, the pain almost unbearable as he stitched the edges of flesh shut. He wrapped a clean cloth around it and sank back onto the bed, his head aching something awful as his head hit the pillow. Within minutes, he drifted off and began to snore so
ftly.

When Darian awoke again, he saw that it was dark outside. How long had he been asleep? He must have dozed off just after he had stitched his wound shut. Peering through the windows into the city streets, he couldn’t see anyone. The castle was deathly quiet as he climbed back into bed, and he imagined that it was probably sometime after three in the mor
ning.

He thought about Marisa, hating the fact that he was so far away and unable to protect her. He thought about the others—his sister, his mother, Arrie and Alessio, Tino and Cozimo. What would Savino do to them in his absence? He had never felt more helpless in his entire
life.

He rolled onto his side, pulling the blankets up over him as he thought about the bodies of his men still lying near the Mychen Forest. After they had been attacked and everyone scattered in a panic, he had lost sight of both Matilda and Bruno. One could hope that they were both still alive, but, at this point, he doubted it. Bruno had been near the front of the formation and would have been one of the first to die. He suddenly felt sick, remembering the war hero who had taught him everything he knew about self-defense and waging ba
ttle.

And then, of course, there was Luca. The most highly-skilled knight he had ever known and his best friend since their Academy days was now dead. And it was his fault. Because Luca just so happened to be riding in Darian’s place at the front when the attack took place, his corpse was now lying in the Mychen Forest instead of Darian’s. Poor Luca. He would never know the love he had always sought but never found. Unable to think about his painful loss, he pushed them both from his
mind.

He got up and strapped his sword around his waist, creeping down the dark, cold corridors of the castle in search of some less gloomy diversion. Fully aware of the dark history of the place, he had never seen it so deserted and forgotten before. It had once been the royal, holy city of Ambrogia before it had become cursed and he wondered if remnants of that plague still dwelled within its w
alls.

Limping down the hallway, he heard a strange buzzing noise coming from one of the antechambers. Pressing his ear to the door, he silently reached for his sword and grabbed the knob with his other hand, turning it slowly. He raised his sword high, peering into the dark room as the hinges of the door creaked and gro
aned.

There was a flurry of chaos around the chamber as men leapt to their feet from every corner of the room. Each had his sword, dagger or knife pointed at Da
rian.

“Who is there?” a man’s gravelly voice shouted at
him.

“Put away your blades,” he replied. “I have no desire to witness any more death this
day.”

“Your Highness? Is that
you?”

He lowered his sword cautiously. “Baron Por
firo?”

“Ah, it is His Highness!” Porfiro exclaimed, motioning to him. “Lower your weapons!” He strode over to Darian and slapped him hard on the shoulder. “Sire, I am so glad to find you safe! When I last saw you, the men were falling all around us as we both rode into the forest. But then we did not see you anywhere. Are you unha
rmed?”

“My leg was wounded by a stray arrow, but I was able to elude Savino’s men.” He searched the collection of haggard faces around the room. “Do you know if Matilda or Bruno made it out sa
fely?”

“That I cannot tell you, Your Highness. The six of us managed to escape Savino’s warriors and we all banded toge
ther.”

“Only six of you surv
ived?”

He nodded. “We stopped for the night near the Crystal River to nurse our wounds. Assuming that any survivors would meet up again at Abbadon, we decided to leave at first light and came here straight
away.”

“Are there other survi
vors?”

Porfiro shook his head. “I do not know. But it is poss
ible.”

“Who is
here?”

“There is Lord Aurelio, Count Vittore, Lord Patrizio and these other two men are Adamo and Ilario—recent additions to the civilian regi
ment.”

Darian glanced around at the men. “I am so glad to see you. I learned only today that Crocetta has fallen under Savino’s control. I fear he has taken Princess Maraya and the others cap
tive.”

“But, Sire, do you think they are still alive?” Aurelio a
sked.

“I can only pray that they are. We must return as quickly as poss
ible.”

“We are sworn to protect Her Royal Highness,” Porfiro said solemnly. “You need only say the word and we shall mount our horses to ride with
you.”

He clapped a hand on Porfiro’s shoulder. “The first thing you can do for me is to get some sleep. We leave for Crocetta in the morning and I want everyone properly rested. Somehow I fear that the fight of our lives still lies ahead o
f us.”

Tears flooded Arrie’s eyes. He had been so happy to discover that Marisa was alive, but his joy had been short-lived. When she told him the news of Darian’s death, he dropped to his knees and buried his head in his
arms.

Her heart ached for her dear cousin as she bent down, hugging him tightly. Feeling his sturdy frame shudder in pitiful sobs, she leaned her head against his and wept softly. Jackson nuzzled up against her leg, confused by the powerful emotions of his mist
ress.

“No,” he said loudly, balling his fists at his s
ides.

“No
what?”

“We cannot give up. We must think of a plan.” Remembering the promise he had made to Darian to keep and protect her, Arrie steeled himself as he dried his eyes and lifted her to her feet. She resisted, pushing him
away.

“What is even the point anymore, A
rrie?”

“Your Highness, for the sake of everyone, you must be st
rong.”

“I can’t do this,” she answered sadly. “I never c
ould.”

His voice suddenly took a sharp tone. “You are the rightful Supreme Ruler of Crocetta! Over all Carn
elia!”

“But—”

“This is
your
birthright. You must not let anyone steal it from you! Your father, your mother, even Darian may be gone, but that is all the more reason to stay and f
ight.”

She shook her head. “There’s nothing left to fight
for.”

“Marisa, do you not see that this is about more than just you? Can you not see ‘the bigger picture’ as you often call it? No matter what has been lost in recent days, you must fight for
our
fu
ture!”