Chapter Twenty-Eight #2
He asked about their businesses, the present farmer about his crops, how the economy was faring in the other corners of the kingdom.
Some gave short answers while others were more detailed.
Valeris showed a genuine interest in them, in what they had to say.
His pompous attitude never once slipped through, and he treated each of them as if they were his equal.
The conversation shifted around to other topics, to other speakers, but eventually it lulled.
And then Valeris asked about the king.
“What about the king? I don’t know about you fellows, but sometimes I think he isn’t quite up to the task anymore.”
Silence descended over the once-lively table, the men glancing between one another, their expressions a mix of worry, distress, and anger. Two glanced over their shoulders to make sure the conversation wasn’t overheard. I averted my eyes to avoid suspicion but continued listening.
“Do you get much political news down south?”
I peeked up to see Valeris shake his head.
“We don’t,” he said. “Not out in the country. I like to keep up to date as much as I can when the opportunity arises.”
“Well”—the man wearing a blue mask stroked his blond beard—“I think you’ll find us a table divided on that topic.”
Valeris straightened, his interest piqued. “I will?”
One of the men sighed, leaning in along with the others and speaking in a voice so low I almost couldn’t hear. “Let’s just say some folks haven’t been too keen with the royal family, namely King Zaricor as of late.”
If the criticism offended Valeris, he didn’t show it, and I marveled at his stoicism and ability to keep a straight face. He would have done well in the tower.
“How so?” Valeris asked.
“Well,” the bearded man continued. “For one, taxes tripled about a year ago. Put some of us in the poor house as we couldn’t afford to pay our rent no more. Folks is convinced it was to help pay for the Paravellian Balls.”
“I thought the guests and foreign attendees paid a fee for each invitation,” Valeris said.
Another man shrugged. “They do, a pretty hefty fee, but that’s not enough to cover everything. Probably barely covers the fireworks show we put on the first night.”
Valeris sat back. “I thought everyone loved that show.”
“Oh, we do.” Nods went around the group as everyone agreed. “We do, but I happen to like a roof over my head more.”
“Understandable.”
“Now, don’t get me wrong”—the man lifted his hands in defense—“each Paravellian Ball brings an immense amount of revenue for the local inns and businesses, giving a massive boost to the economy while so many visitors are here, but I can’t say that revenue is enough to justify the extra taxes.”
“And don’t forget that petitions have been closed for nearly a year,” another man interjected.
Valeris’s head shot up. “Petitions?”
He nodded. “I’ve been trying to get my brother out of jail for almost a year, had to join the waiting list. By the time I moved up high enough to appear before the king, they closed petitions.
Lots of bad stuff has been happening in the city, increase in crime, theft, and the king has refused to see anyone.
I believe the chancellor has agreed to see a few people in his stead, but from what I’ve heard, nothing has ever come of those meetings. ”
Valeris’s jaw clenched. “I thought it was law for the king to hold petitions?”
“It is law.”
I frowned. The news seemed to blindside Valeris, but he was a member of the royal family. There was no way he didn’t know. Petitioning the king was the right of every Paravellian.
“What else is going on I wasn’t aware of?” Valeris pressed.
“Nothing huge to speak of, little complaints here and there. Most of us would like to see change but prefer to keep the peace. Others ...” A hush fell over the man as he took in everyone seated at the table. “Others have been a little bit more, proactive.”
Valeris leaned in. “Proactive how?”
“I think that’s enough talk of that for the evening,” an older gentleman cut in. “We shouldn’t spread gossip where there is none, nor should we help fan the flames of rebellion. It will all work out in the end as it always does.”
The conversation shifted, and Valeris fell quiet, taking the hint to leave the discussion to rest.
I finished my drink and wandered back into the street, surveying the festivalgoers around me.
Part of me felt triumphant at the people’s distaste for King Zaricor.
They wouldn’t miss him when he was gone, but this revelation meant I needed to play my cards carefully.
If civil unrest plagued the people, whatever I accomplished at the seventh ball would create aftershocks that could affect not only this kingdom but others as well.
My mind flashed back to the conversation I heard between Ezrielle and the chancellor. It could possibly have something to do with this.
I took in the dancers, the pounding of the beating drum echoing in my chest. The wild hearts and the freedom clogging the streets. The door to the Echoing Winds swung open and Valeris strode out, spotting me and coming to stand at my side.
“I can’t believe they didn’t know who you were and talked to you as if you were one of their own,” I said.
“They always do.” His face remained stoic as he took in the festivities with me.
“How often have you spoken with them?”
“I visit during the festival of masks once a year and during the Paravellian Balls. I find the best way to oversee a people is to talk to them when they have no idea who you are.”
“And you’re just going to let them talk about your father like that?” I enjoyed hearing his father’s true character being picked apart, but I wanted to know what Valeris thought about it.
He met my gaze. “We are not monsters, Analleia. Every individual deserves the right to speak their mind and opinions without fearing retaliation from an authority who doesn’t share their beliefs.
The moment you lose the freedom to say whatever you want is the moment you lose freedom.
And every person deserves the human right of individual liberty. ”
“And the petitions? You didn’t know?”
“There is a lot I am privy to as a member of the royal family, but I am not informed on everything.” His gaze darkened. “I’m going to have to do some digging on that.”
He hadn’t known about them being closed.
He turned to me. “Or you will. You have a knack for knowing things you shouldn’t. Perhaps I should send you to discover what is going on among my people.”
“Or, let me guess.” I pretended to think. “You’ll lock me up in chains?”
He pulled me out of the way of a passing cart, and I crowded in against him, only easing away from his warmth once there was space to stand again. We exchanged an uneasy glance before he reached for my hand.
“You don’t smile enough, Analleia. For the record, I still don’t trust you, but you’re the only person present who knows my identity, which means you’re the only person I can have fun with. Come pretend with me for a while.”
Before I could protest, he led me into the middle of a dance I didn’t know the steps to. He laughed at my clumsiness, a smile gracing his mouth as he attempted to guide me through the swirling people as we interspersed and changed partners what felt like every two steps.
I glared at him, trying to find my footing in the dance and figure out which direction to go.
I bumped shoulders with those around me, pushed out of the way, but no one seemed angry.
They laughed and righted me, helping me along the way.
The song picked up, and I remembered the beat, the steps of the dance.
The drums dictated the rhythm, pounding within my heart, traveling throughout my limbs as my body transitioned into the steps from memory.
I fell into the rhythm, swept into the beauty of it and moving with the others in a dance that represented community.
I reached for the hand of the woman beside me and swung her across the center of the crowd to the other side where another caught her, pushed her farther along to the head of the dance.
She bowed in thanks, accepting help from those around her.
It represented helping one another up, doing what you could for others to push them to be all they could.
The music intensified, weaving itself with the memories of my childhood, taking me back to a time long ago when I had felt safe.
I couldn’t have been more than ten, my bare feet slapping against the cobblestones, laughter burbling in my chest as I twirled around and around, skirts rustling, lights flickering above me.
My cheeks warmed from the movement, breaths growing shorter as my heart overflowed with happiness.
On those festival nights in Donnovar, there were no differentiations of class.
It was a gathering of the kingdom’s people, enjoying the company of one another and having fun.
Living. My parents danced with the villagers.
My sister’s laughter decorated the wind.
Desmond’s drums grounded us to the earth, and Josef’s smile intoxicated even the grimmest of souls.
Valeris spun me, reeling me out of the past and into the present.
I extended my arms fully before rolling back into him.
The music changed, growing more upbeat as the dance adapted to follow.
A sea of masked faces and joyful energy enveloped me as our boots stomped against the cobblestones, our bodies twirling as we swapped hands and exchanged arms in the difficult maneuvers.
Our fingers interlocked as we swung in a circle, petals falling to the pavement as the crowd raised their fists and cheered along the dancers.
I hadn’t moved like this, felt so free, so relieved, in a long, long time.
I stumbled backward and Valeris caught me before I crashed, yanking me forward as he joined in on my laughter.
“You’ve done this before,” he said as he pulled me into him.
I cocked an eyebrow. “So have you.”
We kicked our feet out, sweat gathering on my brow.