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breathed in as deeply as the corset would allow. She thanked Anna and smiled to herself, eager to invite her aunt, uncle, the extended family and their friends to Beauriél for a Christmas Eve party. She began to plan everything in her head and even started a mental “to-do” list.
    She closed the door of her chambers and quickened down the corridor toward the main vestibule, her skirts rustling elegantly as they swished across the f loor.
    Upon entering the dining room, she was pleased to see nearly everyone there. Cinzia and Alessio were chatting quietly to themselves as Adalina, Matilda, Helena, Arrie and Darian were all talking about family memories. Only Mark was absent, and she guessed that he had probably slept in again. Her brother seemed to be sleeping past breakfast a lot la tely.
    “Good morning, Your Highness,” Darian said, greeting her with a stunning smile as he pulled out a chair for her.
    “How are you sleeping these days, Your Royal Highness?” Arrie asked with a playful wink.
    “Very well, Lord Macario. But now that you mention it, I do miss sleeping on a cold, hard mat, eating stale bread and bathing in a cold st ream.”
    He laughed. “Of course that can be arranged, co usin.”
    She shook her head. “Not on your life!”
    “Sorry I’m late,” Mark said, hurrying into the hall. His reddish-brown hair looked mussed, as if he had only had enough time to quickly run his fingers through it. Noticing the solemn faces around the table, his sheepish grin f aded.
    “Mark, honestly! Do you always have to be late to everything?” She stared at him in a mock disapproval. “You’ve kept us all wai ting!”
    At sixteen, Mark MacCallum was the tallest sophomore at South Medford High and the most popular guy in his class. Although his carefree, easygoing nature had endeared him to virtually every girl he had ever spoken to, he rarely got away with anything at home where his sister was concerned. With the exception of his hazel eyes that matched Marisa’s exactly, he was the spitting image of their father. Amused at her brother’s flushed face, Marisa lau ghed.
    “I’m only kidding. I got here two minutes before you did.”
    Mark grinned as if he had known all along it was just a joke.
    “It’s time to give thanks,” Alessio said, bowing his head.
    Everyone paused, bowing their heads as he led them in prayer for the meal. Alessio’s prayer was eloquent but genuine; extensive but sincere. He reminded Marisa so much of her father that sometimes it hurt. At the end of the prayer, she opened her eyes and gazed at him.
    Ever since they had come to Carnelia, she had begun to see her uncle in a different light, and her respect for her father’s twin had only grown once she came to understand the adversities that he had faced and overcome. For the third time in his life, the ex-real estate agent was being forced to make yet another new start. And after the death of his beloved brother, Alessio had taken responsibility for teaching Marisa and Mark all about their extraordinary le gacy.
    “So, Your Highness, what is your schedule for today?” Darian asked, interrupting her thou ghts.
    She sighed, turning with reluctance to the busy day a head.
    “I have language lessons at nine, self-defense and combat training at ten, history lessons at eleven, lunch at twelve, and a break at twelve-thirty. At one o’clock, I have geography, at two o’clock, protocol and etiquette and at three a break for tea. At four, we preside over the meeting of the Crimson Court and at six we have dinner. At seven o’clock we have after-dinner drinks and a game of cards in the Jade Room and after that, I go to bed and start the whole thing a gain.”
    “Hmm—sounds a lot like my day,” Mark said, making a face and helping himself to the egg salad. “Yi ppee.”
    “Both of you know that this is absolutely necessary,” Alessio chided. “Once you’ve completed the basic lessons, then you’ll have a bit more freedom in