The Temple of Indra’s Jewel:

by Rachael Stapleton

  “Fascinating,” Charles said, moving to the left and touching the stone wall.

  The wall suddenly moved; I realized one of the stones must have held a lever or a button.

  “So I finally get to see your father’s inner sanctum jewel room—my father went on and on about this place,” Will said.

  Charles stepped inside and began lighting candles. My eyes widened as I took in the grandness of the space. Baroque architecture complete with Rococo paneling, and everything was gold.

  I felt as if I’d been slammed back into my body. My eyes flew open, and yet I could still feel the weight of the jewel in my palm. Confused, my eyes roamed the Princess’s familiar bedroom. I was back.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Afternoon light gilded the window as I awoke, and relief coursed through my veins. Sapphira had shown me another piece to the puzzle. We were working as a team, almost as if we were one.

  I felt a draft as the door opened. My heart plummeted as Henri came in.

  “Napping, my dear?” he said. “I hope your dreams were pleasant.”

  Revulsion over Henri and the morning trip to the dungeon returned. I snorted, unsure what to say.

  “Tell me about the amethyst.”

  I closed my hand, still feeling the warmth of the jewel.

  “The amethyst?” I murmured.

  He leaned forward in one fluid motion. “Don’t play with me, Sapphira. I require your complete cooperation. How do you know William Ferris and his son?”

  “William Ferris was a friend of my father’s. They visited on occasion.”

  “Ferris was a notorious jewel thief!” he snapped. “What did your father have to do with him?”

  “I don’t know.”

  I thought of the vision Sapphira had shared with me. Prickles of sweat broke my skin despite the coolness of the room. “I was just a child when he visited.” My heart raced in panic. “As far as I’m aware Mr. Ferris was a soldier and a traveller, but that’s all I know.”

  His head to one side, squinting, he studied me, his beady little eyes looking me up and down.

  “I see,” he said, as if noting my expression and deciding on another tactic.

  “Ma chère, great things are at stake and in motion, things that I—we—must overcome. There is no turning back.”

  I tried to stand up to the scrutiny, ignoring the ache pulsing at the nape of my neck.

  “How do you explain Will Jr.’s visit a couple of months ago?” he said, pressing his lips tight together.

  “How did you—” The words escaped my lips before I could rein them back in.

  His eyes narrowed. I needed to tell him something. Sticking close to the truth, minus reference to the jewels, would be the best way to avoid getting tripped up in any lies. I thought quickly back to the dream and improvised.

  “His wife, Amelia, is sick. They’ve run into trouble, and he needed a loan.”

  He sneered at me, and I could see the wheels turning.

  “Is that all? Because,” I said as I smiled as sweetly as possible, “fun as it is too play 20 questions with you, I should really like to conclude this; I’m hungry. Now, how about—”

  His hand closed on my arm in an iron grip, and I knew he saw right through me.

  “You do not help your case by being flippant, and there will be no dinner for you.” He glared. I had seen that very look in his eyes earlier, and I braced myself for his temper.

  “You’re lying. Either you’re very intelligent or dangerously ignorant. I don’t know if you realize what you currently possess, but it is a jewel of great power.” He paced the room and headed toward the window, dropping his voice to a whisper. I thought I heard him mention the doors of time.

  My heart beat faster. What did he want with the jewels? I couldn’t help the anger suddenly boiling up inside me. I was tingling, alive, not caring for his response.

  As he turned and walked toward me, I spat on his cheek. “Screw you, you bastard.”

  “Interesting language you possess. Be assured I will remedy you of that, perhaps in a way similar to your friend Rochus.” He continued on hotly, “If you disobey me, I will certainly see you punished. Even after this morning I don’t think you realize the situation you are in.”

  Black hate filled my heart.

  “Our wedding will take place shortly, and by God, you will be an obedient creature before then. You shall remain a prisoner in your room until you decide to hand over the baubles that I know you have.” And with that he slammed the door behind him.

  Why had I ever come back and allowed him to trap me?

  I stared at the door. I hadn’t heard it lock. I waited two minutes, cursing the entire time.

  Finally I grasped the door handle. It turned silently.

  Your wife. A prisoner in my room? I don’t think so.

  I descended down the hall and peeked around the alcove. Two surly soldiers leaned against the wall, guarding the stairs. I turned on my heels and made it back to my still-empty chamber, where candles still burned. I closed the oak door and looked about for options. I spied the mantel. Of course! Why hadn’t I thought of that before? Sapphira had used the passageway behind the fireplace in the dream, and she had exited into the courtyard. I could get out. But first I needed to find the Purple Delhi Sapphire.

  Heart thumping, I pulled the diary and map from their sanctuary and looked for a button or lever along the mantle above the hearth. I couldn’t remember how to open the fireplace. I ran my hands along the bricks, picking up a candle before moving aside a china ornament. At last I found a stone that pushed in. With a loud dragging sound, the back wall shifted. I listened to see if the guards stirred. I heard nothing but the hammering of my heart. I crept into the dark space, candle in hand. The tunnel twisted and turned. I stopped occasionally to light one of the wall torches in case mine went out, but mostly I kept to the shadows.

  Just past the two-way mirror in the ballroom I came to a spot with multiple tunnels. Pulse pounding, momentarily lost, I began to waver. I double-checked the map and trudged on, choosing the passage on the left. I walked into a spiderweb and almost screamed. These passageways were clearly a close-kept secret. Otherwise they would have been scrubbed and polished like the rest of the palace. Drafts whistled through the cracks, and I began to hear snatches of conversation coming from below. I knelt as if in prayer and applied my ear to a crack in the plank.

  “Jean, is everything in place?”

  I recognized Henri’s voice right away.

  “Almost.”

  “Our treaty states that once I am married to Sapphira, and thus am Prince, you will be separated officially.”

  Voices were raised.

  “Excellent. That will strengthen our position.” The man I assumed was Jean spoke, lively with anticipation.

  “My understanding is that you, along with several members of the Carbonari, will rid me of Charles by tonight. I’ll be notified by messenger once it’s done so I can proceed with the wedding.”

  This made my ears prick and my bowels cramp. Prince Charles, Sapphira’s brother and Prince of Monaco, was to be murdered on his journey home for the celebration. The celebration I presumed would now become my wedding and death sentence. But why would these political men want to help Henri gain power? I tried to remember everything I knew of the revolutionary society known as the Carbonari, founded in Italy. I seemed to recall that they lacked a clear political agenda. I stilled my pattering thoughts in case I missed something.

  “Agreed. Tonight! It will be done before the feast. I will notify you myself.”

  At least one party left the room at that point, and as I heard the door I raised myself on stiff knees and scampered onward. I came to a spiral stairway that led me down to what I assumed was the main floor of the castle. According to the map, the jewel room was at the end. I passed another stairwa
y and wondered where it led to—underground? Halfway down the hall I noticed the torches set in the sconces were lit. I longed to run back the other way and hide. Have Henri and his fellow plotters been here?

  The narrow tunnel ballooned into a cave, and the amber glow grew stronger. I rushed to a spot where I had just seen a large beetle disappear. My creep factor went on high alert at the large insect, but I moved closer, recognizing the area from my dream. There was silence from the other side. I felt around for a lever. I heard an uncomfortable shuffling of feet behind me, and a cold chill rushed up my spine.

  I turned, knowing they must have heard me. I was caught. A cold, wet hand clamped over my mouth, muffling my cry.

  “Sapphira,” a voice whispered in my ear. “Shhhh. It’s me.”

  I quit struggling, and he removed his hand.

  I quickly composed myself and flung my arms around his neck, kissing his cheek.

  “Viktor—oh, thank heavens. You wouldn’t believe what I just heard.”

  Then a thought occurred to me. Why is the Count here? How would he know about this passage? A scream locked in my chest. I scrambled to turn, fell to one knee and picked myself up before I ran, stumbling, back the way I’d come.

  Horror and betrayal swelled in my chest, but I squashed the emotions. I needed to get away, but I needed to find that inscription and save Sapphira. The thought of going up against Viktor turned my resolve to mush. How could I help anyone when I was so easily fooled?

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  I could smell his musty cologne of fire and woodchips closing in on me, and I willed myself to run faster. He grabbed my wrist, and I let out a small scream.

  “Sapphira, calm down.” He gripped my arm, pulling me tight. “Why are you running from me?”

  “How did you know about the passageway?” I stuttered, pulling away.

  He looked straight at me, and I knew he saw the fear in my eyes. As if reading my thoughts, he loosened his grip and apologized.

  “I didn’t know! I was just so worried waiting around, doing nothing while you took all the risks, that I came looking for you.”

  I looked him over slowly, observing the worry in the hollows under his eyes and the stubble that grazed his cheeks.

  “When I arrived at my cousins’ after returning you here, I heard Henri had been scouring the town for you. He’d been seen with Giuseppe and Jean Trenca, members of the Carbonari. That bothered me, so this morning I went to find your friend Rochus, but his neighbour said he was arrested more than a week ago. I knew something was wrong. I headed to the palace, and Lisabetta recognized me on the main road. She told me you were locked away, warned me about the soldiers and told me how to get in, avoiding the main gate. I had to wait two hours for a shift change.”

  “You’re soaking wet.”

  “I know,” he said, letting go. “I was lurking in the bushes, hiding from Henri’s men. I was trying to find the staircase Lisabetta told me of. One of the men was practically on top of me when I noticed an opening underneath the mote. I figured I could squeeze through it, so I took a risk and slipped into the water.”

  That did seem plausible. I relaxed and began feeling the stones along the wall.

  “What are you doing?” asked Viktor.

  “Help me find the stone with the lever. I think there’s a secret room in here. We can light the fireplace, and you can finish your story and warm up.”

  “There’s a secret room?” said Viktor.

  “The castle is full of them.”

  “So it seems,” Viktor agreed.

  I continued feeling for the lever as I’d seen Sapphira’s brother do in my vision. Finally, I found something and pulled. The wall retracted with a dragging sound. Smiling at my luck, I stepped into a dark room full of shadows.

  With a name like the inner sanctum jewel room, I expected to once again be dazzled by the bright sheen of gold, but pitch black loomed. Going on memory, I fumbled until I found a lantern.

  The room smelled of dust. Of course, there were no windows because we were underground.

  “It’s so damp,” I said, wandering around the room with the lantern to light the other candles.

  Viktor took the hint and headed straight for the fireplace, narrowly missing a case that sat in the centre of the room.

  “There’s furniture down here. How did you know about this place?” asked Viktor, lighting the fire.

  “Sapphira’s diary had a map. I also dreamed about this place this afternoon.” My eyes widened as light began to permeate the corners of the room and I recognized the grandness of the space. “These must be original Gobelins. I saw one of these once in the Louvre in Paris,” I said, fingering the tapestries that adorned the walls. “It’s difficult to imagine how craftsmen weaved the thin threads into such detailed pictures.”

  “Never mind that. Come here and warm me up,” Viktor said, removing his wet shirt. I glanced around the room and grabbed one of the blankets off the chair to wrap him in.

  “It’s dusty, but it’ll do the trick.” I walked toward him, enjoying the view of his rippling abs. “Anyway, tell me about how you got in once you were under the moat.”

  “The steps in the water led up into a cave. I climbed out and followed the hallway. I came to what I thought was the end, but when I leaned against the wall, a door pushed open.”

  “But how did the torches get lit?”

  “That wasn’t me. Perhaps Lisabetta?” He grabbed my arms and pulled me into his chest. “I was so worried about you.”

  “I was worried about you as well,” I said, thinking of poor Rochus. I decided this wasn’t the time to tell him. Viktor lifted my chin in his hands, his fiery green eyes narrowing as he kissed my lips.

  “Viktor, wait, I need to tell you something.” I could feel him trembling, and I wrapped myself tighter around him, despite the dampness of his pants.

  “You know how you mentioned the Carbonari?”

  “Ja.”

  “Well, I overheard their plan to kill Charles tonight.”

  “Tonight? But he’s not here.”

  “He’s on his way home, supposedly for a feast. They’ve baited him. His camp’s an hour’s ride from here. I heard them studying maps. He must have a spy within his men. The Carbonari plan to capture and kill him.”

  “Why would they do that?” Viktor said, knitting his eyebrows together.

  “I don’t know. That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out.”

  “Why would a political group trying to achieve Italian unification want to see Henri in power?” He paused a moment. “Unless Charles opposes them and is getting in the way?”

  “He does,” I said, thinking of my study sessions with Leslie. “He fought to keep Menton and Roquebrune, despite their protests to be free.”

  “Henri made them a deal then. If they get rid of the Prince and place him in power, he’ll do their bidding.”

  “I think you’re right. And unfortunately, for me…” I paused. “Or rather Sapphira, the only way to put him in power is marriage to the Princess.”

  “Otherwise sovereignty over the Grimaldi realm would revert to France,” Viktor said, finishing my thought.

  “I need to stop them,” I said, breaking away from Viktor. I headed to the centre of the room, as if an invisible string tugged at me.

  “I have to find the original jewel with the incantation,” I whispered, lifting the velvet drape. A glass case sat beneath, showcasing extravagant baubles.

  “Viktor, look at this! This puts a whole new spin on the term family jewels, doesn’t it?”

  Viktor looked at me curiously, and I realized he probably didn’t get the joke.

  I was beginning to miss Cullen more and more. As much as I liked Viktor, we spoke two different languages—literally as well as metaphorically.

  “Look at the size of that one,�
�� said Viktor, pointing.

  “That’s nothing compared to the ones that should be here.” I kept looking, but my hopes were sinking. “I don’t see the mogul or the sapphire-amethyst. The ones Henri wants.” I pulled the leather diary from my pocket, where I had stashed it before leaving the room.

  “I don’t get it. Why aren’t they here? Does Henri already have them? Maybe he lit the torches—what if he’s down here?”

  Viktor looked up at me. “Would he still need you then?”

  “Not unless he didn’t know how to work the stones.” I shook my head. “No. He doesn’t have them. He’s been hounding me. What do you think he wants them for?” I pondered out loud.

  “Maybe he needs to pay off the Carbonari,” Viktor said, shifting his weight.

  I nodded. “He mentioned time travel though. I wonder if he wants to go back and change something.” I thumbed through the diary.

  “If he’s already going to murder your brother and be made Prince when he marries you, what does he need to change?”

  “Things change quickly in politics. Alliances shift. The worm at the bottom can be on top the next day,” I commented, continuing my search through the little book.

  “Perhaps there’s something about the political agenda that they need to go back and change.”

  “Perhaps. But Italy gets united, so they win.”

  Viktor looked at me strangely.

  “Sorry. Is it odd for me to tell you these things?”

  “It’s fine. Italy gets united.” He repeated the words as if getting used to the idea.

  I paused to contemplate. “Hmmm, maybe they don’t think they’re going to.”