The Carnelian Legacy by Cheryl Koevoet

stared at him blankly, struggling to connect the dots.
    “Let me explain it another way. Since the time of our common ancestor, King Petrus Fiore, the Fiore dynasty has ruled over all the lands of Crocetta and Abbadon right up until Queen Elyse. Had the royal family not perished in the shipwreck, according to the laws of succession, Maraya Fiore would have inherited the throne. I would have married her, and so—I would have now been on the throne.”
    Slowly his words registered and Marisa giggled as she imagined telling her best friend Daniela the entire story.
    “What are you laughing at?”
    “Oh, nothing,” she answered, shaking her head. “It’s just that my friends back home would never believe me in a million years if I told them about all of this.”
    “Come, we should be going back now. We have a full day ahead of us, and we need to be well-rested.” He led her slowly back up the hill toward the camp but just before they reached it, he stopped her.
    “Marisa, I know how difficult it is to lose a father. If you ever need someone to talk—”
    “Thanks, but really—I’m okay.”
    Darian nodded and spun around to go back. As Marisa watched his tall silhouette quickly climb the hill toward his tent, she felt bad for cutting him off. He was only trying to help and she should be kissing his feet for saving her life more than once.
    Knowing that she wouldn’t be able to speak once they reached the campsite, she hurried after him and slipped her arm around his neck.
    “Darian, thanks for saving my life today,” she said softly. “I would have been dead now if it weren’t for you.”
    Marisa stepped back, but Darian grabbed her arm and pulled her toward him. “You are most welcome, milady,” he whispered in her ear. The hairs on Marisa’s neck stood on end as he kissed her softly on the cheek.
    As Darian and Marisa approached the campsite, the men eyed them with interest. They hadn’t moved an inch since they’d left and Arrie was nowhere to be seen. Marisa guessed that he had probably already gone to bed.
    “Here is your tent, Lady Marisa,” Darian said with a bow. “Sleep well, and we shall see you in the morning.” His face was solemn as he lifted her hand to kiss it, but his eyes twinkled. He winked at her, and she smiled in amusement.
    Marisa entered her tent and sighed. She had probably been too bold in her manner of thanking him, but because she had felt so attracted to him, she simply couldn’t help it. She lay on her mat waiting for sleep to come and chided herself. How could she allow herself to fall for a guy when she knew that it could never go anywhere?
    Even if Darian had been attracted to her, he could never let it show. It was nothing personal. It’s just that his fate had been sealed long before he’d even met her.

CHAPTER 8
    ABBADON
    MARISA AWOKE THE NEXT morning to the clatter of pots and pans. She stuck her head out of the tent and squinted in the brightness of the morning sun. The warriors had already taken down all the other tents and stored them on their saddles.
    Ducking back into her tent, she groaned. Her muscles were sore from the strenuous run the day before, and sleeping on the cold, hard mat hadn’t helped, either. Although she hated the idea, she knew she had to get up and get ready to go.
    She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and spotted the leather satchel in the corner of the tent. She took out her father’s book and ran her hand across the soft texture of the purple fabric.
    Opening it gently, she leafed through the pages. The book’s writing contained fluid, controlled strokes, except for the final page where the script was cramped and labored as it angled down off the paper. She flipped between the first and last pages and noticed a striking difference in writing styles.
    Her knowledge of Scottish Gaelic was far too limited to be of any help in deciphering the book, but she was determined to have it translated once she returned to Earth. If she ever