Chapter 18 Ariah
ARIAH
Whispers of the two Saden princes in Haymel travel around the castle walls faster than the winds of a howling storm; and although I tell myself not to be paranoid, I can’t help but feel like eyes are on me.
Everyone knows I’ve been tasked with escorting the young prince around during his stay. The “new girl” assigned with such a duty. No one says these words aloud, but I can’t help but speculate that’s what they are thinking. Most of me cares little for their opinions.
There are also whispers about the Queen’s mental state for letting, not one but two, rival royals within the boundaries of our kingdom.
It’s all absurd to me. What damage could the two princes do? The Queen has more allies here. People who would have no issue defending her if need be. Overall, their arrival had gone well. Quick and to the point, and I think I played my role well.
Vera’s follow-up lesson that afternoon, after her attempt to murder me, was to always flirt but never appear desperate, especially when it comes to royalty. “They want to feel desired but not used, tread that line very carefully,” she had warned.
From the little interaction I’ve had with them, I can say my interest in Prince Marcel is practically nonexistent.
His smug demeanor is undesirable. I especially didn’t like the way he spoke to his brother.
Jaleese and I would have certainly gone at it if she spoke to me like that, attempting to be funny in front of strangers.
As for Iann, I really could have listened to more of his adventures. I am a bit jealous that he even has stories to tell, and I don’t. At first, I didn’t know if he was going to speak to me, but I think I pulled a decent conversation out of him.
Both brothers were given looks crafted from the divinities.
Marcel is an inch or two taller and carries more definitive muscles that make his coat a bit too snug.
His skin is also a shade darker than Iann’s.
The rich brown complementing the sage green of his outfit well, was the only thing about him I appreciated.
Iann is slender and has finer features. His eyes, from the quick view I got, are an entrapping brown with flakes of green.
His smile is kind and his voice pleasant, one that made me want to listen to him long into the night.
If I could hear stories read aloud by him then maybe I could actually finish a book.
“What are you smiling about?” Vera rounds the corner cutting off my path to the sewing room.
I thought she was still helping Marcel; to see her here causes me to jump back, and instinctively my hand goes to a dagger hidden near my bust. She catches my hand movement.
“Don’t waste your time, I’m not trying to kill you…
again.” Her red lips twitch up. “Have you bedded him already? Is that why you’re smiling?
You couldn’t even wait until after tonight’s dinner to serve up something sweet? ”
“Excuse me.” Something boils within me like a kettle reaching its peak and screaming for help.
“Your spitefulness is getting old. I get it, my mom did something to piss your mom off, what… thirty years ago,” I say mockingly, drilling in my point.
“And I get I’m new blood, but I’m sick of yours and Sky’s rude initiation mind games.
I’m here, not much by choice, but I will not be forced out by some woman with an attitude problem. ”
She folds her arms over her chest, “What does ‘not much by choice’ mean?”
“It was either this or be married off.”
“You choose being this… a spy, assassin—damn near servant to the Queen—over marriage?” She eyes me and then shrugs. “Fair enough.”
“Is that all? I actually have something to do if you’re done with your questions.”
She smiles. “Mahogany.”
“What? What in the divinities does ‘mahogany’ mean?” I know it’s a tree but how random to drop it in the middle of a conversation.
“The dress you were ordered to make for me, I want it mahogany in color. Similar to that of a red fox. Sky will wear gray and Chana black, with the faintest trimming of silver, as usual. We have decided you shall be our snow fox, so stick to whites and creams.” She starts walking away. “Don’t screw it up.”
“Wait!” She stops but doesn’t turn around. “I’m officially a…” I look around the vacant hall, but even without people around the word fox still feels forbidden. “One of you all now?”
“Not even a little.” She laughs back. “Let’s see if you can earn it by the start of the ball.”
It isn’t a full acceptance, but her consideration means I am fitting into this strange new place, the confirmation that I made the right choice. I cling to hope and rush to the sewing room.
The room, like all other rooms in this oversized place, is more than large enough. Much bigger than the kitchen and sitting room of my parents’ cottage combined.
The thought of them makes me remember that I really need to get their letter written.
Mom has sent me three in the short amount of time I’ve been here.
She’s probably thinking the worst with my lack of reply.
Same with Jaleese and Luna. But between everything I have going on I have found very little time to craft a response.
The Queen has an entire wall dedicated to bolts of fabric.
There are sections for silk, satin, wool, lace, velvet, and so much more and all in hundreds of different colors and patterns.
She also has designated areas for ribbons, beads, bows, buckles, hats, shoes—everything one could think of.
It is my dream and nightmare all in one.
Nightmare because there are so many choices, and my time doesn’t allow me to be indecisive.
I force myself to focus on one outfit at a time. While I probably should start with the Queen’s, hers is going to take a little more time, so I begin with Vera’s. My first goal is to hunt down the mahogany color she asked for.
I find a satin bolt in a color resembling mahogany along with a copper tulle with leaf patterns on it.
Perfect.
As I search for Sky’s material next, I come across an olive green material that would look good on Iann. Before I know it, the material is in my hand and on the cutting table where I try to get a better view.
If I could get the other pieces done, then maybe…
“What are you doing?” I say aloud, talking to myself and rushing to put the material back. There isn’t enough time and why would I bother making him something he’s never going to wear.
Before I put it back on the shelf, I decide it’s best to keep it out, just in case, and set it back down on the table. It is beautiful material, maybe I’ll think of something else to use it for.
An hour in and I have the material for everyone’s ensembles picked out, except the Queen’s, and I have Vera’s sketch nearly finished.
Knowing I couldn’t do it all on my own, the Queen ordered two of her helpers to assist me when needed. I make them a list of things I need cut, pinned, or sewn, but keep the more intricate and important tasks for myself.
There is the faintest scuff of a shoe on the floor behind me. In seconds, I draw a dagger and flip around, launching myself forward. I find the strangers’ neck and press in as close as I can without drawing blood.
I’m hit with piercing blue eyes. “I see Chana has been teaching you well,” Sky says. In a quick movement he knocks the blade out of my hand and turns us, pinning me to a table. “Too bad I have years on you.”
Not willing to give up just yet, I kick my knee up and get him in the closest and weakest place I can reach.
Immediately, he lets me go to cradle the pain. His face turning red and eyes ready to pop out.
“Damnit…Ariah…” He breathes with pain. “I was just messing with you.”
“I know.” I fix my outfit and realize if anyone were to come in it would look like a bad scene. “I just wanted to see if I could get myself out.”
“You’ve succeeded.” He hisses and finds the strength to stand straight again.
His eyes get caught on my sketch. “What is that?” He’s not stupid and considering it’s a drawing of a dress with Vera’s name written on the top, I’d imagine I don’t have to answer.
But when he doesn’t ask anything else I take it as a sign to reply.
“It’s the dress I’m making Vera for the ball. Your outfit is up next.” He eyes my drawing as if she’s actually standing in it. “Do you like it? My favorite part is the split in the leg.” I run my finger along the paper. “What’s yours?”
He snaps out of it as soon as I tease him and changes the subject. “I intercepted these from one of our messenger boys. One is a letter to Prince Iann as well as another from someone named Luna, again.”
“Already? He just arrived. How does he have letters already?”
“Kings and queens have ways of getting news around urgently. King Marcel probably sent this right after they departed Saden. Anyways, he’s under your charge so you get to give it to him. After you read it, of course.”
“How am I supposed to do that? Have you not seen the huge royal seal on the front?” My fingers stroke the wax.
“Chana.” Is all he says before walking away. At the door he stops and pivots. “By the way, she said you’re late. She’s in the sanctuary.” He leaves and my hands fly to a pocket watch on the table.
I had three hours to work on the dresses before my late afternoon lesson with Chana, and I am already ten minutes late.
The rafters of the sanctuary always smell of mildew and the lack of light keeps the interior cold. It is one of my least favorite places in the castle, but Chana loves meeting up here. She once said it reminds her of her home, Pivennen, in the Kingdom of Ethmay.
I’ve asked a few times how she ended up here but she either ignores my question or changes the subject. Eventually, I give up.
Climbing up is the easy part, getting to the small platform Chana waits on is challenging. There are beams that I must cross, without falling, and more importantly, without making a sound. Sometimes the sanctuary is filled with people, people who are not supposed to know others are lurking up high.
Having traversed the high rise several times already, I manage to get across quickly and don’t fear the height as much anymore.
“You’re late,” Chana whispers, peering over the edge.
Below is a person, their knees planted on the gold marble, praying to what looks like a sculpture of Mathemous.
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“There are twenty-five of them.” She doesn’t bother with questions as to why I am late. “In the letter to the Queen, King Marcel II said there would be twenty-four guests.”
I follow her gaze to the man below. “And you think he’s not with them?”
“I didn’t say that. I’ve been watching each of them individually. You and Vera are to find out more. The Queen wants names and positions of every single one.”
I nod. “Understood.” I hold up the letter Sky gave me. “I’m told you can help me with resealing a letter.”
She pulls her attention away from the man. “Have you read it yet?”
“No.”
“Read it and then slide it under my door tonight. You can give it to the Prince in the morning.”
“What—” I’m cut off when the doors to the sanctuary open and in comes Prince Iann, his courtier, and another man I briefly glimpsed during their arrival.
“What did I tell you?” the courtier says to the man praying. The man on his knees in worship looks irritated but keeps his thoughts to himself. “No one suspects a thing.”
The courtier then sits on one of the seats and kicks up his feet.
“We get it, your plan worked,” Iann says. “Doesn’t mean you’re any less stupid for doing it.”
“Plan,” Chana whispers to herself, and I can see her mind beginning to work.
“Whatever.” The courtier waves him off, a little too comfortable for being in front of a prince. “I’m working on my part but what about you? When are you going to ask her?”
“We just got here,” Iann snaps.” I haven’t even said more than a couple words to her. It’s going to take time.” Iann sighs. “You want me to just walk in and—”
The door opens again and Iann stops talking mid sentence. This time, it’s people from the Queen’s court who enter. The courtier straightens up and they all act like they are praying before they get up and leave together.
Chana is already looking at me before I turn to her. “Read that letter and find out what they plan to get from the Queen.” I nod. “The Queen must be protected at all costs.”