The Carnelian Tyranny: Savino’s Revenge (45 page)

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Authors: Cheryl Koevoet

BOOK: The Carnelian Tyranny: Savino’s Revenge

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A few weeks after the coronation, most of the guests and foreign dignitaries had already departed for home. After the Feast of the Ordination was behind them and the last remnants of the festive parties, succulent dinners and enchanting balls had been swept away from Crocetta palace, a small group of royal family members and friends gathered in the Knight’s Hall. The twenty-odd people stood solemnly in a semicircle at the far wall as Queen Maraya was assisted to the top of the scaffolding by Prince Da
rian.

The hall echoed with cheerful chatter as the onlookers below watched the couple move to stand next to the Fiore circle of swords. The queen took the opportunity to study the blue Fiore coat-of-arms at the center of the Fiore wheel. The flower intertwined gracefully with the strange animal around a fluid letter F. Noticing that one of the swords that had fallen from the wall during the earthquake had come from the Fiore circle, she turned to Darian questioni
ngly.

“Whose sword fell from the circle during the earthq
uake?”

“Gregar
io’s.”

“Where is it
now?”

“There,” he said, pointing to the long row of lone swords beneath them. “And there it shall re
main.”

She gazed down at the last, lonely symbols of the monarchs from times past who had left no h
eirs.

“Here is yours, Your Majesty,” he said, handing it to
her.

She unsheathed the magnificent sword that had been made especially for her, examining it closely. The ladies’ broadsword was lighter than Darian’s, with an elegant, curved hilt resembling the flowing tendrils of a Wounded Heart. Her newly-designed coat-of-arms was engraved into the base of the polished, steel blade that flashed when she turned it over. The handle was covered in purple and gold striped thread with a solid gold cylinder with geometric patterns at its tip. At the center was a small purple jewel that had been cut from the Ambrogia stone am
ulet.

Holding the sword in her hand, she watched the small jewel glow and pulse. The Wounded Heart had taught her about hope and forgiveness, but the Ambrogia stone had shown her the love of Garon and His promise to always protect those who place their trust in Him. The sword was the perfect manifestation of what she hoped would represent her reign for years to
come.

“Are you ready?” he asked, pulling her from her thou
ghts.

“Yes,” she replied. “I was just thinking about how well this sword represents all the things I want for my kin
gdom.”

Darian smiled. He helped her lift the sword up onto the hooks and fastened the piece of metal across the blade to hold it securely to the wall. “A beautiful new member of the family,” he said. “Behold the sword of a q
ueen!”

They climbed down the scaffold as the rest of the family stood back to admire her new addition on the
wall.

“Look!” Mark said, pointing. “Even from down here, you can see the jewel in the sword pulsing with l
ight!”

Sure enough, it was easy to pick out her sword from the others from its glowing purple light that pulsed in the dark
ness.

“And now, Your Majesty, I believe that we have a long overdue appointment,” Darian said, placing his hand on Bertoldo’s shoulder. “Will you not join us for a family council in the Crimson antecha
mber?’

“Aye, I shall,” Bertoldo answered jovi
ally.

“Family council?” she repeated, looking at Darian. As he nodded, she bit her lip. She knew this matter would have to be addressed soon, but she had hoped to put it off as long as poss
ible.

Darian, Marisa, Bertoldo, Alessio, Cinzia, Arrie, Helena, Adalina, Savino, Matilda, Loris and Mark all entered the chamber and took their places around the slate t
able.

“Your Majesty,” Darian began, “both of our kingdoms are facing an ever-increasing threat from the Apollyon Order. Years ago, it had been decided that an alliance between our families would help strengthen our position throughout the Kingdoms and against the Order. Unfortunately, when the
Carnelian
disappeared from our world, we were forced to put this alliance on hold. But, now, we would very much like to renew our vow in creating this alli
ance.”

“I, too, wish to express my sentiments by affirming the desire to seal this alliance. But is Her Majesty’s brother prepared to offer himself to the
task?”

All eyes shifted to Mark and Loris as the two brothers exchanged puzzled gla
nces.

“What task?” Mark asked. “And which bro
ther?”

Bertoldo gave him a sidelong glance. “To marry my daughter, Caterina. And you are the bro
ther.”

Mark’s jaw dropped. “What? But she doesn’t even like me! I don’t even know her. Thi
s is…”

“Mark, please do not insult His Majesty,” Darian answered in a stern voice. “You were betrothed to the Crown Princess immediately following your birth after your father agreed to the match with King Bertoldo. I am sorry that you have not been informed of this until now, but, unfortunately, there have been other more pressing matters of
late.”

“But,
how…?”

Mark’s voice trailed off. He turned to Adalina. She gazed at him with sympathy as if saddened by the news, but she didn’t look surprised. He glanced over at his sister in final desperation. “Sis, can’t you do something about this?” he ple
aded.

“I’m sorry, Mark. I have an arranged marriage as well. We all must do our duty.” She let out a deep sigh, shrugging apologetically. She had only found out about the betrothal a few days earlier and hadn’t found the opportunity to break the news to him
yet.

“But that’s different,” he protested. “You love each o
ther.”

“You shall grow to love my daughter in time,” Bertoldo assured him softly, furrowing his brow. “She is a pleasant girl once you have had the chance to secure her t
rust.”

“So that’s it? I have no say in this at
all?”

When no one answered, he jumped to his feet and headed toward the door. The somber faces around the table watched him angrily stalk off. Adalina sprang from her chair and ran after
him.

“Marcus, wait,” she called
out.

“Your Majesty, we shall continue this discussion again soon,” Darian said softly, watching the two of them hurry from the chamber. “But, for now, I think it best that we leave matters as they are. At least tempora
rily.”

“As you wish, Your Highness,” Bertoldo answ
ered.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I owe a debt of thanks to many people whose contributions, encouragement, feedback, and suggestions helped me pen the story that could not wait to be told. Without their assistance, skills and encouragement, you would not be reading this story today. And so I offer a word of thanks to the following pe
ople:

Debbie Hahn, for your endless enthusiasm and loy
alty;

Christy Holley, for your eternal opti
mism;

Najla Qamber, for creating the most beautiful cover imagin
able;

Tonja Drecker, for your excellent proofreading sk
ills;

Elizabeth Bollinger, for your passion of the written
word;

Samantha Colville, for polishing my jewel until it s
hone;

Cheryl Loeb, for showing me things in a different l
ight;

Janice Blaszcyzck, for your smiling face and listening
ear;

Ken Ward, for your calming words of wi
sdom;

Sydney McMahon, for introducing my stories to a whole new generation of rea
ders;

Mom, for your devotion and enthus
iasm;

Amy, Vincent, Joshua and Marcus for the love and daily inspiration you show me every
day;