Chapter 8 Ariah
ARIAH
Dry mud clings to my skin and clothes. Afraid of what I’ll discover, I don’t even risk touching my hair. I just had my wash day too. This better not dry out my curls.
Furious with whomever was driving the carriages, I trudge home, role playing exactly what I will say to them and how I will deliver it.
Up ahead, I see my front garden and come to a full stop. Outside my family’s cottage are the same three carriages that nearly ran me over.
Continuing on, I get a close-up view of the impeccable condition the carriages are in.
The outsides are a metallic brown with a copper finishing, and elegant filigree designs run over the top, doors, and wheels.
Each carriage also has an area where bunches of azaleas and fern have been placed as adornments.
There is no way these belong to anyone in Foxhead. We have wealthy villagers, but no one comes this close to this level of rich. Not even Morren Beetlerum.
My hand floats out to the shiny temptation, but suddenly a figure pops up and blocks me.
“What are you doing?” They wear a gold-and-black uniform with a symbol of a fox with a crown on its head. Royal colors and symbols.
Looking the carriage over once more, I inquire, “Who does this belong to?”
“What’s it to you? Keep moving.”
They turn to walk away, but I place my hand on their shoulder, stopping them.
It isn’t my wisest move, considering the glimpse I catch of their hand going to their sword, but I have questions.
“Firstly, you and your fellow guards need to learn that when someone is walking on a path you are traveling on, it doesn’t mean you just keep going at full speed, secondly, be appreciative that mud washes out.
Thirdly, I live here, so kindly inform me of what you’re doing here. ”
A head pops out of a carriage window. A woman, with large earrings that brush her shoulders, eyes me with caution.
She is in all black with the collar of her frock wrapping tightly around her neck.
Golden buttons form a single line from the collar all the way down to her chest, where they disappear and become blocked by the carriage door.
“Your parents are Galen and Adreena?” Her voice is light and alluring, almost like she’s trying to trap me in a trance.
I nod. “They are.”
“Leave her, Borric.” He does as he’s told and walks away. She then looks back at me and says, “You can go in now. Enjoy your time…while you can.”
“What is that supposed to mean? And who are you?” A smirk is the only thing she gives me before settling back into the carriage.
On the other side, near the gate that runs along the perimeter of the cottage, I find more guards. Seven in total. I speed through the garden and up a few steps, swinging the front door open. Two more guards apprehend me, but a woman from another room tells them to let me in.
Making my way into our dining area, my father meets my gaze first, his eyes widening with concern. My mother, on the other hand, looks furious. She sits across from a woman who has her hands folded. I know my mom’s looks, and she’s enraged.
“Ariah, dear.” My father gets up and gestures to the guest before him. “We have company.” Yeah, no kidding, Father. “Come give Queen Cayleen a proper greeting.”
My throat closes up and I’m unsure if it’s from my condition or because the Queen of Haymel is at our table.
My feet move, I think. Edging closer, it’s almost as if she’s getting further away. Is the Queen really in my home?
Once I’m at her side, I offer the best curtsy I have. I’ve only ever had to bow to a lord who visited our village once. He was a distant cousin to the Queen and a complete ass.
“Your Majesty.” My voice trembles as I bend, but I manage my way through it.
Queen Cayleen stands, and my parents rush to mimic her.
“Your mother has talked an awful lot about you and your sister, and let me not forget that new niece of yours.” This makes me light up, but when I look at my mother, she’s incensed, and all my excitement withers.
I even notice my father secretly dropping his hand to squeeze hers.
“Ariah, is there somewhere we can go to speak privately?”
Speak privately? My heart works overtime. The Queen of Haymel wants to speak to me alone?
“You may use my study,” my father answers. “Right outside. No one will disturb you.”
“Thank you, Galen. Ariah can show me the way.”
My eyes and mind stay glued to my mother. Something isn’t right with her. When she notices I’m still standing there, ignoring the Queen, she fixes her face. In an instant she smiles, but we both know she’s only pretending to be strong.
“Ariah, my girl, go take Queen Cayleen out there so you two can talk.”
I nod. “Right this way.”
I lead us out of the cottage and to my father’s workspace.
My mind churns with thoughts that only spiral into more thoughts when suddenly it strikes me why she’s here.
Council has told her I turned them down.
She has come to make it official. But why not just send a letter?
She wouldn’t come all this way for a girl in a village she doesn’t know, let alone care about.
Surely posts take longer than five days to arrive.
But then it depends if it went by bird or person.
I count on my fingers. Yes. Yes, it’s only been five days.
There is no way she knows. She just can’t.
Convincing myself she’s not here because of my defiance is one thing, but determining what else she might want is different, and I have nothing.
Walking inside, we pass Lemon who says my name and then calls the Queen “stranger.” This brings a faint smile to her face, but it’s quick to disappear.
We move closer to my father’s desk to be near the fire and with nowhere else to go, we both stop and wait in silence.
Her hair waves like flames in a darkened sky, burnt-orange strands alternating in the darkest night.
She makes no attempts to smile back at the pathetic one I offer her.
I’m not even sure it constitutes a smile, it is a more nervous twitch that keeps me from saying something stupid in the presence of royalty.
There isn’t a soul in this village that hasn’t wondered what the Queen of Haymel looks like.
There are portraits that have circulated through the years, but the ones I’ve seen don’t measure up to who stands before me.
Folding her hands in front of her exquisite hand-beaded gown, she eyes me with all the hesitancy in the world.
A hard swallow gets stuck on the way down and that’s when I realize how dry my throat is.
Instantly, my eyes dart to the pitcher of water and glasses on my father’s desk, but before I can offer her a drink and relieve the ache in my own throat, I see her hands move.
Moving to her hips, she displays fingernails that are perfectly shaped with the slightest tip.
All nails have been dipped in black and dusted with gold.
It’s not a particular color I would choose for myself, but it does go well with the cream dress clinging to her amber skin.
She walks, hands still glued to her hips, and does a few circles around me.
“Your parents once served me in court.”
What the…Surely, she’s at the wrong home. But I think about how scared and upset my parents looked when she arrived. They looked like death showed up personally to collect something they had stolen.
I can’t help but chuckle, which makes her stop and tilt her head.
“You think I traveled all this way to be mocked by a little girl?” With three steps closer, she gets within arm’s length and places my chin between two fingers.
The pressure she forces on my jaw makes me certain she could crush it.
“Your parents owe me a debt. One we agreed I could cash in on at any time.”
That sounds like a personal issue to me, but with my face still gripped between her fingers, the words are best kept in my head.
“I’m sure they have no problems paying it.” My words come out of a crooked mouth as she pushes one side of my face up with her nails. “We aren’t destitute.”
“I am the Queen of Haymel. I have more money than all the people in our realm combined. Your family’s money means nothing to me.”
My heart flutters and my shoulders rise higher. My airways narrow and all the gulps in the world aren’t satisfying my need for breath.
Seeing me struggle, she lets go of my face and backs away.
“What in all of Haymel is wrong with you, girl?” she shouts with equal parts worry and annoyance.
Digging deep in my pockets, I search until my fingers find the diamond shaped glass container and I immediately draw it to my lips.
I spritz the contents in my mouth and inhale deeply before releasing a vast breath.
A few minutes later, I’m able to take deeper breaths and my chest doesn’t feel as tight.
Sensing eyes on me, I look up and find the Queen staring.
“I have difficulties breathing,” I explain.
“It happens when I panic or exert myself too much. Sometimes even the slightest weather change can set it off.” I lift up the once perfume bottle.
“My father, being the apothecary that he is, played with different plant extractions and put them in these containers for me. They are an enormous relief.”
She blinks a few times, but her eyes are glazed over, her expression hard to read. “Sounds like him.” She takes a step closer before continuing on. “Tell me, Ariah, what skills do you possess?”
That’s an odd question for a queen to be asking a commoner like me.
“Well…I am a seamstress and work for Kimpol’s shop. My dream is to design dresses, though. I made this one, and the one my mom is wearing. Oh, and my friend who is getting married tomorrow, I’ll be making her dress.” Her lack of emotion crushes my enthusiasm.
“Is that all?”
Ouch, that one stings.
“I mean, I can cook. Sometimes.” She’s really making me think here. Should I be concerned that I can’t think of any other skills?