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choosing other subj ects.”
    “So we’ll be able to study whatever we want?” Mark a sked.
    “Hardly. Once you’ve completed the first set of lessons, you’ll be receiving instructions from Bruno about battle com mand.”
    “Battle com mand?”
    “Yes. You’ll become The Queen’s Chief Armaments Counsel someday when you’re r eady.”
    “I’m gonna be advising Marisa on how to wage war?”
    “Let’s see how things progress, shall we?” He handed his nephew a basket filled with round rolls. “By the way, how are your swordfight and fencing lessons coming a long?”
    “Pretty decent, I guess. With a little more practice, I’ll be fighting off the bad guys and defending the kingdom with one hand tied behind my back!”
    “I’m glad to hear it. Things may just come to that.”
    Alessio’s somber words hung in the air for a moment as everyone around the table thought about Savino’s thinly-veiled thr eats.
    Marisa brightened. “I want to invite you all out to Castle Beauriél for a special dinner on Christmas Eve.”
    “Why are you holding it out there?” Alessio asked, the tension rising in his voice. “What’s wrong with having it right here?”
    “Darian said I could live at Beauriél until the corona tion.”
    Alessio turned to Darian. “You’re letting her stay out there alone?” he snapped. “Are you in sane?!”
    Cinzia touched her husband’s arm under the t able.
    “Believe me, Alessio, I understand just how you feel,” Darian said, lifting his hands in self-defense. “I, too was against it at first. But it would mean a lot to her to be able to enjoy the house before becoming saddled down with her du ties.”
    “What about Savino? Do we just pretend he doesn’t e xist?”
    “I have already made arrangements to reinforce the guards. Besides, Beauriél is close enough to Crocetta in case—uh, something should ha ppen.”
    Alessio leaned back in his chair. “I think it’s a big mistake. But, then again, I seem to be overr uled.”
    “You will come to the Christmas Eve party, won’t you?” Marisa pleaded. “It won’t be the same without you.”
    “Of course I’ll come,” he mutt ered.

    After breakfast, most of the family members left for their various appointments while Marisa, Mark, Arrie and Alessio lingered a little while longer over their tea.
    Marisa took a sip, setting her teacup down gently. “Uncle Al, Darian had never heard of Chris tmas.”
    “Why should that surprise you? Carnelia has its own past; its own history. And that history is completely different from Ear th’s.”
    “But they still believe in God, r ight?”
    “Yes, but Carnelia is still waiting for the One to ap pear.”
    “One what?”
    “Also known as the Deliv erer.”
    “The Deliv erer?”
    He cocked his head at her. “Haven’t you learned any of this in Cozimo’s history les sons?”
    “No.”
    “Well, as you know, the Carnelian word for God is Garon . The ancient writings chronicle Garon’s interactions with man back almost to the beginning of time. But somewhere down the line, man screwed up. Civilization turned its back on religion, and people decided to live for themselves. Men began to worship the enemy of Garon, a horrible creature named Apol lyon.”
    “What kind of creature?” Mark a sked.
    Alessio’s blue eyes widened. “A dr agon.”
    “What? There are dragons here?”
    “Just one,” Arrie corre cted.
    “ Cool!”
    “No, Mark. It’s not a good t hing.”
    “Where is this dragon?” she a sked.
    “It is believed to dwell in Mychen Province—far away from here,” Arrie off ered.
    “Does it ever come here?”
    He shrugged. “Probably not.”
    “Prob ably?”
    “Have you ever see n it?”
    Alessio’s eyes grew distant. “I saw it once when I was still living in Terracina. I prayed I would never see it a gain.”
    “What did it look like?” Mark asked excitedly. “Does it actually breathe fire?”
    “Yes.” Alessio answered slowly before waving his hand as