by J. M. Ivie
A slight twinkle lit his black eyes, “I do not need a title to do that.”
I heaved out a sigh, attempting to shove my hands into my non-existent pockets, garnering a chuckle from Barak. I gave him a taut scowl, then turned to scan the crowd. The sheer amount of self-righteous Hierarchy that walked these grounds had my stomach in knots.
“Where is your Sorumeito?”
“You mean: where is Zahra?” I looked back at him.
“Yes, where is your Countess? How is it she is not in your sights?” Barak teased, gulping down the wine.
“She is inspecting the garden with Emperor Masters.”
“Ah, I can understand your sour face now.”
“I don’t have a sour face!”
Barak threw me a pandering glance as he traced his finger along the edge of the goblet. “If I were a mirror, you would see. Point I am trying to make is Emperor Rai Masters is a real man. Wealthy, charismatic, and handsome.” He placed his cup down as a smirk quirked the sides of his mouth upward, “Three things you are not.”
“You’re a troll. Besides, why should I care?”
“Why should you not?”
“Because I’m not competing with him.”
“Are you sure?” he asked, pointing his chin behind me.
I spun around, and my heart sank. I saw Emperor Masters and Zahra walk arm in arm into the ballroom. Barak was right. He was handsome. He had warm champagne eyes and long white-blond hair that fell in ringlets to his shoulders. His face was chiseled to perfection, all the way to his dark eyebrows which had to be the same size and hair count. His gait, poised and regal, nearly rivaled Zahra’s. To top off his already odiously handsome appearance, he wore the finest tailored white suit I had ever seen. A suit Nora said she made for him some months ago.
“What is the point of your jabs, Barak?” I snapped, looking back at him.
“To warn you. To show you what I see before it gets you into trouble.” Barak patted my shoulder. When I looked into his eyes, a look danced in them, one I didn’t understand.
It was then, before I could ask Barak the meaning behind his cryptic words, that a tall and monarchial man introduced himself. The man threw out his rough, pale hand for me to take. “Hello there, have we met before?”
Ocelandic, judging from his accent. He pronounced his R’s, unlike the Bouldarnites and Luxterrians. “No, we haven’t.” I shook his hand and bowed my head, “My name is Apollo Faithe.”
His smile revealed itself through his thick red beard as he spoke his name. “Elric Aurora.” He grinned, apparently spying the exact moment I recognized the name.
“King Aurora—of the Woodlands?” I blinked, not knowing how to respond to a monarch. I should have put it together. His deep purple sash and white doublet…
“Yes, that is my name. Though, I still don’t recognize yours… where is your family from?”
I blinked my thoughts away. “Oh, pardon me, King Elric. I’m not a member of the Hierarchy, I’m just an escort.”
He grinned, his blue eyes lighting up with curiosity, “Interesting! What is your rank?”
My mind buzzed. “Archivist, sir.”
The King nodded and smiled “Well, you certainly have the appearance of a Noble. You remind me of the Priest, in fact, his son is to be here I believe…”
I laughed, entertained by King Elric. I looked around the room, trying to find where Barak had gone.
“You do not seem to mind speaking to a commoner, King Elric.” I pressed the observation to him, testing my limits. “If I may be so bold to ask… why?”
Elric seemed amused at my question, “The lines I see between the Hierarchy and those who are not within, is one thing.” He paused for a moment as a small, chestnut-haired girl ran up beside him, wrapping her arms around his thick torso. “Responsibility. The amount of people depending on their squires or rulers is the only thing that separates us.”
I looked to the young girl as her bright blue eyes settled on me like soul-searching orbs. A line of freckles dotted her cheeks and nose, showing up in stark contrast to her milk-white skin.
“This is my daughter, Laramie Aurora.”
I bowed, “Princess.”
Her face grew red, and she tried to cover it with her hands.
The King nudged his daughter, laughing, “Oh, come now, my little Kelpie.”
“I don’t like it!” She giggled, peeking at me through the cracks of her fingers. “I’m not used to being bowed at!”
King Elric patted her head. “You only need to be used to it for one night, then you can go back to how it was.”
She nodded, then looked up at me again. “What’s your name?”
“Apollo, Princess.” I bowed my head once more, not knowing exactly why I was doing it. I gave this young girl more respect than I gave most of the Hierarchy here.
“I like you, Apollo, even if you bow too much.” She slipped her hand into her father’s palm, her face beaming.
“We must make our rounds and say hello to the others. It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Faithe. I hope we will meet again.” The King smiled, and, with that, the pair left. It was an odd encounter, but refreshing. My rank—title—it seemed to mean nothing. I was an equal.
I breathed in deep just as I caught a flash of a red garment in my peripheral. Zahra’s svelte figure, draped in red, stood out against all the white-clothed aristocracy peppering the room. Tall, thin, and the picture of femininity to me. She looks gorgeous. Apparently, Masters thought the same. He was all over her. I clenched my fist, trying to quell the fire which roiled in the pit of my stomach. I could just get rid of him, no one would know I did it. Thirty different scenarios played out in my mind, each better than the last…
Either I had become just as blood-thirsty as Ryanne, or something else had come over me. I had to dismiss the thoughts that welled in my mind before I acted upon them.
Still, my gaze lingered on her. I couldn’t shake the flustered ache in my stomach when I saw them interact. It made me sick watching the way he looked at her; gawked at her. I tried, but I couldn’t blame him. She was more of a sight than ever. Her hair was perfect, braided upward, showcasing her slender neck. How her dress draped across her dark shoulders allowed every curve in her collarbone to show made my heart flutter. She looked like a living statue. Perfect. Her green eyes caught mine, and it was enough to set my pulse racing.
The bell rang, and the guests gathered into the center of the room, brushing past me. I took my eyes from Zahra, and I lost her in the crowd of people. The dance was about to begin.
Masters pulled Zahra out on the dance floor, whispering into her ear. The closer he got to her, the more I had to swallow a sour lump in my throat. His lips were a few inches from her ear, possibly even brushing up against it.
“Are you not going to dance?”
I spun around, seeing the little Princess standing beside me. “No, I don’t do these types of dances.”
“What? Don’t dance the waltz? That’s silly.” She smiled, snatching my hand.
“What are you doing?” I laughed, but she quelled my laughter by pulling me onto the dance floor.
“You will learn the waltz!” A simple reply, one that had me grasping for words. Aside from the oddity of our age gap, I dwarfed her. She was barely as tall as Nora.
I could feel Barak’s mocking gaze burn into the back of my skull.
“I don’t think I should dance with you, Princess. You’re only, what, eleven?”
“Thirteen.” She frowned. “Scared to learn from a thirteen-year-old?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Too proud?”
Trapped. I’m trapped between her jeering and my pride. “No. Go on. If you think you can, then teach me.”
Her brows raised and a smile spread over her face. Challenge accepted.
We danced, and I was better than I thought I’d be. She was a good little teacher and didn’t ridicule when I messed up. After the first song ended, we danced the se
cond song. This time Zahra and Masters were near. My heart lurched into my throat, beating like a rabid beast when her dress brushed against my leg. What is wrong with me?
“You like her, don’t you?”
The Princess’ delicate question pulled my attention away from Zahra who waltzed beside me. “Pardon?”
“You can’t take your eyes off her. That happened with a man in the Woodlands. He ended up marrying her, by the way. At least, that’s what Father told me.” She smiled, and the straight strands of her chestnut hair fell over her face.
Her direct question put me on edge. I didn’t want to like Zahra. I didn’t need this complication. But, here she was, dancing beside me… and I couldn’t calm my racing heart.
“Ask her to dance the next song.”
Again, my gaze yanked back to Laramie. “Ask her to dance? She wouldn’t say yes…”
“I think otherwise. What if I dare you to?”
“I would say I don’t have to do it because you dared me.” I laughed.
She raised her brows. “Yes. Yes you do! If someone dares you to do something, as long as it won’t kill you, or compromises your personal beliefs, you must do it. Father said so! Why? Are you scared to ask?”
She was so firm in her position, and she had a point. I wouldn’t want to look like a coward in front of the Princess. “Fine. I’ll ask her.”
She clapped her hands, “Good! I knew you wouldn’t back down.”
“Any honor lost, I expect payment.” I raised my brow, and she erupted in a fit of giggles. I supposed she didn’t think I had any to lose.
The dance ended, and I saw Masters walk away to converse with a few guests. I knew I needed to get to her before Masters returned. I thought I had been brave before this day. I faced down giants of men. I had stared down armies. I conquered the nearly unconquerable, but this was something different, entirely its own. There were no rules. No battle. There was only me, her, and my heart which I was about to pull from hiding.
“Apollo! I hadn’t the least idea you could dance like that!” Zahra smiled at me, tilting her head to the side. “I see you’ve been acquainted with Princess Laramie. She’s a doll, is she not?”
“Yes, she is unique.” I bit my cheek, trying my best to find the words. I felt abnormally dizzy, and I wondered if asking her was even worth it.
“Something you need?” Her eyes stared up into mine, searching my face for an answer. With what I felt like inside, it could be etched there in bold letters.
Ask her.
The thought alone made my breath catch in my chest and the blood rush to my head. I berated myself—goaded myself to push on.
“Yes,” I bowed. “May… may I have the next dance?”
Zahra turned her eyes away. The look on her face—a grimace. Perhaps I was right. “Emperor Masters has asked me for the next dance.”
My heart dropped. This was it. I’d dropped all my pride and it got me rejected. Perhaps next time I wouldn’t heed the advice of a thirteen-year-old Princess.
“More like demanded.”
My eyes snapped back to hers.
Looking at me, she smiled, “It would delight me to dance with you.”
She slipped her hands into mine, making my heart thump louder and faster. I hadn’t expected her to accept. She was close… closer than she had been before. I could have counted every line—every variation of color—in her emerald eyes.
The music started, and we waltzed onto the floor. The people around seemed like a blur. A figment of imagination. They didn’t matter. The only thing that seemed to matter was the woman who I held in my arms.
The fragrance of vanilla and roses graced my senses as she pressed closer. It almost felt criminal… my hands on her waist and her hand wrapped around my neck. We danced on for some minutes in silence.
“You look uncomfortable,” she muttered, beginning to edge away from me.
“No,” I tugged her closer; my grip firmer now. “I was just searching for what I should say to you.”
She smiled, and her fingers ran along my neck. Her touch, like fire and ice, heated my skin and sent shivers down my spine. “I don’t mind the quiet. I enjoy the quiet.”
My heart stirred in ways it hadn’t before. I leaned in closer. A sudden desire overtook my heart, urging me onward. Her eyes never left mine, and the space between us was gradually melting away… until the music stopped and ended our dance too soon.
Zahra pulled away, smiling. “I wouldn’t mind if you asked to dance again later, Apollo.”
I bowed, trying my best to calm my raging nerves. “Your wish is my command, my Countess.”
“Careful, speak like that too much and it will get to my head,” she chided. Then, lowering her voice, she said, “You wouldn’t like me acting like some of these women here, would you?”
“I don’t think you have that in you.”
“If you’re baiting me to be wicked, I dare say you have some kind of strange desires.”
If she only knew how much I enjoyed that side of her. My eyes were glued to her as she vanished beyond the pillar to speak with Nora, who had been too long absent to be up to any good.
A hand brushed against my shoulder. I turned to see Barak standing behind me with a troubled stare.
“What?”
“I advise you to keep your distance, Apollo,” Barak muttered. “You are not the reason I came, so please, do not make a scene… otherwise I will need to do something about you.”
My heart had surely grown spines for it bit at my flesh from the inside. Despite feeling at ease and safe around Barak, his sadistic tendencies sometimes made me question what he would do if it came down to the two of us. “That makes me wonder.” I turned to him, shoving away the dark thoughts that had crept into my mind. “Why are you here, Barak?”
With a solemn face, he turned away as if scanning the crowd. “There are Talismen spies here tonight. But, that is just the beginning.”
E L E V E N
I STOOD OUTSIDE BY the waterfalls, keeping an eye on Zahra as she talked with some Nobles. What Barak told me ran through my mind over and over. How? How is it true? My fingers grew cold.
“Apollo, do not worry.”
I turned to see Barak beside me. His eyes found mine, boring into my soul with his fiery black irises. “It’s hard not to worry.”
He released a long breath, shaking his head. “Jensen is handling it.”
“I need to go help.” I glared in the Hierarchy’s direction. Any of them could be the Talismen. Barak still had to fish them out… “The Talismen are so close! Barak, I can finally know what happened to her.”
Barak coughed and turned around. “That would be the worst thing you could do. Like I said, do not worry. I am here to handle it.”
I looked back at him. I was no more at ease with his assurance. “What are you going to do?”
His features went rigid, and he rested a hand on my shoulder. “You will soon see, my brother, the reason I am here. I will write it in blood, and the waterfalls will flow red before the night has ended.”
His words hung like a dark omen in the cold night air.
___
The bell rang, and I sat in the dining hall with the Hierarchy. I felt out of place; many of the men seemed to think that as well.
“So, Countess Zahra, your companion here is… an Archivist?” muttered a man from the other side of the table.
She nodded toward me, and I answered, “Yes, I am…”
“Your accent, Mr. Faithe—” A stalwart-looking old Count leaned forward in his chair, looking at me from one end of the long table. His pale blue eyes and dark, peppered hair made it easy to pinpoint his homeland. Arclend. “It is unusual. You have an unfamiliar way of speaking, I would describe it as a drawl. Where are you from?”
I scowled, insulted by his degrading tone. “Bouldarcaven.”
“Is that all?”
I ground out the words that escaped my mouth next, “I spent much of my childhood on Dahkhal
l and Fiermont.”
“Ah, that explains it. I recognized the Dahkhallian vowels. They’re slurred, and…”
I paid little attention to him and his dissection of my speech. It bothered me to listen to his high-pitched, squeaking voice.
“I happen to believe it is a unique way of speaking that only the lower classes posses, Gustav.” Rai Masters, the Emperor of Crēov, said in an equally degrading manner, masked as pity, as he strode over to our table. “It is of no fault of their own, I imagine. They haven’t the same training.”
I clenched my jaw; my body stiffened. His mere presence irritated me, and now I was to deal with his remarks.
“Ah, yes, Emperor Masters points to an interesting topic. The lazy way the commoners speak is shoddy. It mirrors the primordial language of animals. I cannot interpret a grunt from a hello!”
Nearly the entire table burst into laughter, and I could only grip my utensils to stifle my burning rage. I was grateful to not be one of them. They spoke about me, and the people who shared my rank, as if we were animals. Something in me wanted to flip the table and shout, then another part of me wanted to shed the light on what my true rank was. That thought alone caused pain to twist my stomach. Yes, I’m the son of a Nobleman who didn’t even desire me. When I looked away, my eyes locked with Zahra’s. Her brows turned upward and her plump lips were strewn into a line.
Nora stood, took up her glass, and raised it high. “I applaud the man who swims against the current of society.” She seemed half drunk, but, still downed more of her drink. “To make something of yourself despite the odds against you… that is worth celebrating!”
“You’re drunk,” Gustav muttered, just loud enough for both Nora and me to hear.
The expression on Nora’s face kept me from speaking. I knew a storm was brewing. A furious, heated fire.
Nora stood on her chair, placing one hand on her hip as the fury in her eyes subsided into a cheeky twinkle. “You will find it hard to understand the simple words I wish to speak, though, I will try.” She dumped the contents of her cup on the table, causing dozens to gasp.