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  Seta’s Fall: A Blood Revelation Prequel

  Crystal-Rain Love

  Copyright 2017 by Crystal-Rain Love

  Smashwords Edition Published 2017

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

  may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

  without the express written permission of the publisher

  except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  SETA’S FALL: A BLOOD REVELATION PREQUEL

  CRYSTAL-RAIN LOVE

  ONE

  1803

  Rome, Italy

  “The Count will never take a whore as his wife.”

  Seta bristled, and took a deep breath, releasing the air from her lungs slowly to ward off her reflex to lash out at her mother. She knew the woman thought she knew best, but she didn’t understand the relationship Seta had with Count Roberto Garibaldi. Her mother had never been fortunate enough to have the affections of such a noble, highly regarded man. Seta’s father was a scoundrel at best, and had been long dead for many years, leaving his family to survive the only way they could, by being lowly servants.

  “Do you really think me a whore?” Seta asked as she continued to fold her toddler son’s clothing atop the dresser. She caught her reflection in the mirror above it and saw a sadness in her eyes that should not be, not on this day she’d long awaited for.

  “It is not what I think, but what others think,” her mother said diplomatically as she rose from the rocking chair set near the hearth. Rialto slept peacefully in her arms, his small angelic head nestled against her bosom. Seta watched as her mother deposited her small son into the bassinet they kept close to the fire to protect him from the draft.

  “I care not what others think,” Seta stated firmly though her hands automatically clenched with the untruth. “When I am nobility, no one will dare utter a bitter word to me.”

  “When you are nobility.” Her mother snorted, shaking her head as she tucked a thin blanket around Rialto’s sleeping form. “I do not like to hurt you, Seta, but you need to stop this foolish dreaming. Even your grandmother, sick as she was, warned you away from him.”

  “I am not dreaming!” Seta slapped a hand over her mouth as Rialto let out a tiny whimper. Her mother directed a reproachful look her way as she rubbed the young boy’s back, soothing him to sleep once more.

  “I am not dreaming,” she repeated, much calmer this time, as her mother straightened. “The Count is in love with me, and I, with him. Rialto is testimony to the love we share.”

  “Rialto is testimony to the fact that you lay with a married man and God had enough mercy on your soul to bless you with a child despite your sin.”

  That hurt. It hurt so badly the anger drained out of Seta, replaced with deep regret. She’d always been so proud of her relationship with Roberto, so honored that of all the women in Rome, he had chosen her to be with. Yes, he had chosen and wed another first, but that relationship was no more than a business arrangement, the joining of two wealthy families. Roberto did not love his wife. He despised the woman so much they did not even sleep together, which was why Rialto was his first-born. Seta may not have been first to wed the count, but she took great pride in knowing she’d been the one to gift him with his one and only son, an heir to his title and wealth. “I sincerely apologize if I have embarrassed you, Mother, but I assure you no one will dare speak ill of you once we are in the castle. You will have servants of your own, and they will all desire to be you. We will both be envied.”

  Her mother, Loma, bowed her head, and shook it side to side. “I do not envy the pain of your heart breaking when you learn the truth.”

  “I have learned the truth!” Seta’s anger started to mount once again. “It is you who chooses not to believe it.”

  “How will you ever set foot into that castle without a basket of laundry, or cleaning supplies?” Loma’s hands clenched the apron strings at her hips. “Rialto is not the key you think he is. You may be the mother of Count Roberto Garibaldi’s son and possible heir, but you will never be his wife. You will always be the Spanish servant he took in secret.”

  Heat flooded through Seta’s body and the flames in the hearth roared as they grew higher. Loma’s eyes widened and she quickly pulled the bassinet away from the hearth. “Cool your temper, Seta.”

  Seta swallowed hard, and closed her eyes against the rage furrowing inside her. There was no explanation for it, but bad things tended to happen when she allowed her temper to flare. “There is no need for concern, mother. Rialto and I are leaving now.”

  She stepped forward to retrieve her son, but Loma blocked her path. “Please think about this, Seta. You are not thinking clearly. The heart has misled many women down dangerous paths, as I am afraid your heart is doing now.”

  “Roberto loves me, and he adores his son. You will see.” She nudged her mother aside and scooped up her small son, tucking him against her body so his dark head rested over the swell of her bosom. “I will send for you,” she said softly as she turned and took up the basket of clothing she had packed for Rialto. She knew her own clothing was unsuitable for the castle. Roberto would see to it that she was properly outfitted after she and Rialto settled in. She could just imagine the servants bustling about her, taking her measurements so they could dress her in the finest of silks.

  “Seta, stop this foolishness!” Panic laced the sternness Loma projected into her voice. “I am your mother. I would not tell you an untruth!”

  “You do not know of what you speak,” Seta said calmly, trying desperately to hold back the anger inside her. She’d once set a man’s eyebrows on fire by simply wishing it upon him while mad. She didn’t want to accidentally hurt her mother in a similar way. “As I said, I will send for you once we are settled in.”

  “How will you ever be settled into a home you must share with the woman who is wed to the man you love?”

  Seta stopped just before the door, back ram-rod straight. “The countess has been ill for some time now. The Lord will be taking her soon, and I will then move into the master chambers with Roberto.”

  “I have not heard a word of this illness.”

  “You would not,” Seta responded coldly. “You are not of a high enough station.”

  “And you are? We are the same.”

  Seta stopped herself before reminding her mother she had never been loved by a man of importance, had never caught the eye of such a prize before. Despite her mother’s hurtful words, she still loved the woman and would not hurt her so cruelly. “We will laugh over this confusion at a later time, perhaps.”

  “No, we will not. Walk out that door, Seta, and you will not be welcome back through it after he casts you aside.”

  Seta turned just enough to glimpse her mother. “You would really bar me from returning here?”

  “Yes.” Loma’s chin rose defiantly despite its trembling. “If that is what it will take to make you stop and think about this. The count will not take a Spanish wife, much less a servant. Stay here where you belong, Seta. Do it for the future of your son. We can escape if it is necessary.”

  “Escape?” Seta laughed. “Roberto has never abused me, nor would he. Why would I take his son away from him? Who better to raise him into a fine man than his own father, a count?”

  “There is darkness in the man, Seta. He has blinded you to it, but I am not such a fool.”

  “Nor am I.” She straightened her back, standing tall. “It is a good thing I will not need to return to this dismal little hovel. Do not worry, Mother. Despite your bitter words, I will still send for you, if only to prove you wrong.”

  Seta left, the sound of her mother’s strangled sob following her until the door closed behind her, blocking the anguished s
ound. She did not look back as she walked away from the small cabin she and her mother had been offered in the servants’ quarters located a half-mile from the castle. They had arrived from Spain with her father, who claimed to have found work in this new land which would pay him well. They were to have a large house and a carriage. Seta was to be properly educated and married off to a man of great wealth within the year. None of those things had happened. Her father had cheated the wrong man, and his head had been taken. Seta and Loma had been forced to become servants. Seta grinned as she pressed on along the path winding through the woods. She did not regret being a servant, for if she had not been a servant on Roberto’s land, she would have not known about the lake where he had found her bathing on a hot morning. They would have never met, would have never fallen in love, and she would have never given birth to the most beautiful child in creation.

  Roberto loved her, and he beamed when he looked upon Rialto. No force in the world could break the bond between them. Rialto whimpered, and Seta shifted him higher onto her shoulder. “We will see your father soon, darling. No more shall we steal a few precious hours. We are to live with him in his castle, and one day all that is his will be yours. You are such a special child.”

  He was. The old hag in her dreams had told her. She’d started dreaming of the wrinkled old woman soon after meeting Roberto, and although she was just an image in a dream, Seta knew deep in her soul that the woman was more than a figment of her imagination. Whether she was actually a real person or not, her words rang true. She’d predicted Seta would have a boy, and had predicted the date of birth right down to the hour. With that history, Seta had no reason to doubt the dream-witch’s promise that her son would be a powerful, important man destined for greatness. The hag had told her to leave with him so she was doing just that.

  As she reached the edge of trees that would lead her to the cliff where she’d promised to meet Roberto, a sense of foreboding wrapped around Seta’s gut, bringing her to a standstill. Her mother’s words rang through her mind, a sense of loss coating each syllable. She didn’t want to hurt her mother, and she didn’t want to lose what was left of her family. Her body grew cold and she started to turn.

  Rialto whimpered, burrowed his little body deeper against her, and she knew the thin blanket her mother had swaddled about him was too thin to block the cool night breeze. “What am I doing?” She turned back in the direction of the cliff and kissed the top of Rialto’s head. “We are almost there, my sweet boy. Your father will provide you with the best clothes, the warmest blankets.” The life she would never be able to provide for him otherwise. Seta shook off the sense of doom and walked the rest of the path, emerging from the trees several yards from the castle.

  As large as it was, the structure loomed in the night, but she didn’t head toward it. She walked toward the man waiting for her on the cliff. He stood tall in dark trousers and a black short coat adorned with an ivory cravat, which accentuated the golden bronze of his skin. His thick mustache hid his upper lip, but the bottom was clearly set in a straight line. His dark, ebony eyes latched onto Rialto possessively as she approached. Except for his cloak blowing softly in the breeze, no part of him moved, not even a single dark tendril of hair on his handsome head.

  “Roberto?” Unease crept along Seta’s spine. He normally seemed overjoyed to see her when they met, but now, in this moment when his happiness should be at its peak, he seemed distant.

  He looked up from where Rialto rested to meet Seta’s gaze. “Seta.”

  His mouth turned up slightly at the corners, the aloofness he’d emitted seconds ago evaporating. Seta sighed in relief. Her mother had gotten to her. That’s why her nerves were raw, she told herself. She was sensing trouble where there was none. Roberto loved her. Wanted her.

  “I’ve missed you terribly. I could barely stand the wait.” She tiptoed to reach him and pressed her lips against his, desperate for the reassurance of his desire. He kissed back, slipping his tongue deep inside her mouth as he held the nape of her neck with his large, powerful hand, but something was off. While passionate and consuming, the kiss itself lacked the need it was usually infused with. It was all passion, no affection. Desire without substance. Powerful, yes, but controlling. Dominating.

  He let go and Seta rocked back on her heels before opening her eyes. “Rober—”

  She stilled as she caught sight of the duo who had appeared behind Roberto as they’d kissed. A stocky woman with mousy brown hair pulled back into a tight bun stood to his left, her hands clasped over her apron. To Roberto’s right, a large man, a guard, judging by his attire, watched her with narrow eyes. “Who are these people?”

  “A child needs a nanny,” Roberto replied as though the answer were obvious, “and noble blood requires protection.”

  Seta dropped the basket of Rialto’s few belongings and held him tighter. She stepped back, her gut twisting with that eerie feeling that something was horribly wrong. “Rialto does not need a nanny. He has me.”

  Roberto simply smiled. “You have done a fine job with him so far, but a child of my blood needs to be brought up properly. There are standards he must live by. He is completely weaned, yes?”

  Seta nodded, wondering again why Roberto had been so insistent that Rialto be weaned by twelve months. Most women nursed their children for at least the first two years.

  “Very good, Seta. You have served me well.” Roberto nodded toward the woman and she stepped forward, hands outstretched for Rialto.

  Seta stepped back, holding Rialto as tightly as she could without hurting him, head shaking from side to side. “I do not let strangers hold my son.”

  “He is my son,” Roberto stated firmly, his voice a menacing growl, “and he will go with the nanny.”

  Seta’s lips parted in shock. The heated glare burning from within Roberto’s eyes matched the ferocity of his tone. “I know you are used to servants caring for you, but I am not. I would rather not hand Rialto over to another for care right now. When I am settled in to the castle—”

  The guard stifled a laugh, and coldness engulfed Seta’s heart as Roberto silenced the man with a look which promised punishment. He redirected that dark look to her. “You are so beautiful, Seta. So vibrant and passionate… You are not suitable as anything other than a servant, though. Take the child.”

  The last was directed to the guard, or the nanny. Both stepped forward, intent on taking Rialto. Seta quickly blinked back the painful shock of Roberto’s statement and turned to run. They would not take her child.

  She’d barely made it three steps before large hands gripped her shoulders and yanked her backward, spinning her so she faced Roberto. He quickly latched onto Rialto, who started wailing.

  “You’re hurting him!”

  “You are hurting him,” Roberto countered, refusing to let go. “What life can you give him? The life of a servant? He is nobility, my very own blood, and he will be treated as such. Now, let him go!”

  Seta sucked back sobs and tried to focus. She’d started fires before, moved things without touching them. Surely she could do something to save Rialto. The small child screamed and Seta looked down into his face, red and mottled from the pressure being put upon him as his parents played tug–of-war with his little body.

  Pain seared the side of Seta’s head and she fell to the ground, losing her grip on Rialto in the process. Rising to her knees, doing her best to ignore the throbbing pain at her temple caused by one of Roberto’s servants striking her, she looked up in time to see Roberto hand Rialto to the nanny and order her to run.

  “No!” Seta jumped to her feet and started to chase after the woman, but Roberto grabbed her about her waist and flung her backward. She lost her footing and fell to the ground again, jarring her hip.

  “Rialto is my child, Seta. He will be raised as my heir, the son of my wife and I.”

  “Your wife is dying!” Seta struggled to stand, pain shooting through her body. “You do not love her. You do not even lay w
ith her.”

  “Ah, the young. They believe everything.” He smirked. “My wife is very well, just barren. We decided it best I choose a servant to give me what she could not. Of the four I chose, you were first to produce a son.”

  Of the four. Seta’s rage intensified. She had been so stupid to believe his lies. She’d thought he loved her, but he’d used her along with three other women, used them as cattle to breed his heir. Now, her son, the child she would give her life for, was to be raised as another woman’s child. Over her dead body. “You will not have my son.”

  “I have already taken him.” He angled his head sideways, studied her. “You are young, Seta, with plenty of time to have another. Let this one go and I will allow you to go about your life. I can see to it that your duties are lightened.”

  He sought to buy her off? Seta curled her hands into fists and growled. “I will get him back. I will not stop until I do. You will have to kill me.”

  She lunged at him, striking him in the jaw before raking her fingernails down his face in a fit of fury. The guard grabbed her under her arms and pulled her off, held her to allow Roberto to backhand her across her face.

  “Have it your way. As much as I hate marring such beauty, you have left me no choice.”

  He punched her stomach and waited for the guard to let her go, allowing her to fall to the ground before he kicked her with his heavy foot, covered in a leather boot. Seta tried to suck back in the air his punch had stolen, her mind racing as she tried to call upon whatever it was that caused fire to erupt. Roberto kicked her again and she heard the popping sound of her ribcage breaking as pain shot through her torso like a flaming arrow.

  Fire, fire, fire….. She thought frantically of the element but it did not appear. Roberto continued to pummel her with fists and booted feet as she cried for her son, her poor, beautiful son who would not be loved by anyone as strongly as she loved him.

  “Rialto is mine.” Roberto straightened as he backed away from where she now lay on the ground.