They heard bathwater being ran and when an albino, distinguished looking man walked in, Maurice ordered everyone away from the girls. He inclined his head slightly; a show of respect and the room fell into a hush. He fluttered his hand in a shooing motion at a few of the assistants and they nearly ran to the other side of the room. He crossed one arm over his chest, rested his elbow on it and tapped the tip of his nose with a finger as he stared at them.
“Um, hi,” Claire said, and was shushed by a dozen different people.
“Sorry,” she whispered and self-consciously crossed her arms over her breasts. It was strange having a room full of people stare at you while a tall pale man studied you like a bug under a microscope. Dana fidgeted beside her, not sure what to expect next. They saw Mrs. Schwartz glance at her watch and grimace but no one rushed the man as he slowly circled them then leaned in close to Claire and breathed in slowly.
“Night Blooming Jasmine,” he said softly to himself. “And Oleander. There is something wild and untamed about this one. Perhaps even dangerous.”
He closed his eyes for a moment then walked over to a woman holding an open aluminum case that held small vials of various colored liquids. He gently tapped two, considered for a moment then pulled down a false lid to expose a few more vials. He touched a third and the woman’s eyes went wide.
“Yessssss,” he said softly. “She is a rare one. She will wear it well.”
The woman hurried to the bathroom to mix the ingredients and another girl took her place with an open case when the perfumer turned to examine Dana. He did the same to her and almost smiled as he touched the vials.
“This one is light and airy. Apple blossoms and summer rain.” He said then walked out of the room without a backwards glance.
The woman hurried to the other bathroom to start mixing the fragrances and bath oils that would bring out the very best in the girls. The scents were matched perfectly to their body chemistry and would waft from them naturally as if their very skin was breathing the divine aromas. As soon as he was across the threshold, the controlled chaos started again as the assistants ran forward and dragged the girls off in different directions to be cleaned and shaved and manicured and pedicured. Without Maurice barking orders, or Mrs. Schwartz glaring at them, the assistants loosened up and laughed with the girls as they made them as stunning and elegant as they possibly could in the time they had. They told them what to expect at the dinner, it was formal and would be held in the palace with lots of stuffy bureaucrats and glad-handing politicians wanting to make a good impression on the new King.
“I’m going to make a total fool out of myself,” Claire moaned, but they assured her she would be just fine and started telling her juicy gossip about most of the men and women who would be there. Someone was working on each of her feet, two more ladies were bent over her hands shaping the nails as another sponged her and massaged the customized fragrances into her skin.
Mrs. Schwartz barged in and the giggling died immediately.
“Marissa will be here in seven minutes,” she said. “Have her presentable by then.”
“Who’s Marissa?” Claire asked as the women hurried her out of the bath and toweled her off.
“I’m not done!” One of them wailed and sat on the floor, took her foot in her hands and finished sculpting the final toenail.
Claire balanced on one leg as she was dried and wrapped in a luxurious robe then led out to a salon chair set up in the kitchen area. She didn’t have time to wonder where it came from before two more ladies hurried her into it and immediately tilted her head back to the shampoo bowl and started washing. Dana was already under the spray being rinsed as a spikey haired woman stared intently at her. When her assistants’ towel dried her hair they stood by, awaiting their next instructions.
“How much time do we have?” she asked.
“One hour and eleven minutes if they can run to the ballroom in heels.” Mrs. Schwartz answered. “In one hour and fifteen minutes his grace and his lady will be announced.”
“There will be no running,” a beautifully stylish middle-aged woman with multicolored hair said, as she breezed in, her own entourage in tow.
“Marissa.” The spikey haired woman said, acknowledged her with a nod.
“Shaunte.” Marissa replied, as she studied Claire’s curly auburn hair still wet from the shampooing.
“No time for color.” Shaunte said.
“No time for straightening.” Marissa replied and fingered a lock of her charge’s curls. They had both had a salon day in Lichtenstein so their hair was in good condition, no split ends or frizzies.
“I think up for the dinner, down for the dance,” she said.
Shaunte cocked her head left then right at Dana’s dark hair that was mostly straight and was easy to manage.
“Twisted edge fishtail braid worn in a bun for dinner, let it down for dancing.”
“Matching hair sticks?” Marissa asked.
“In ebony with emerald inlay for Claire and dark blue sapphire for Dana,” Shaunte agreed.
“Let’s make it happen girls, we have thirty minutes.” Marissa clapped her hands twice and the assistants rushed to get what was needed as the two women stepped behind the girls to start working.
They closed their eyes and let it happen, let themselves be pampered and plucked and when Maurice’s assistants returned with nail polishes, they obediently held out their hands for the subtle shades to be applied. Shoes were slipped onto their feet to ensure they fit and a makeup crew asked if they had any allergies and then stood by, their kits open and ready to go to work.
“I’m a little bit afraid,” Claire admitted, as the men and women busied themselves transforming the Kings’ guests from pretty but plain young ladies into stunningly beautiful women that every eye would turn to see.
“Don’t be, honey,” Marissa said. “You will be on the arm of the King and have his ear. You can do no wrong. Everyone there will be kissing your ass and wanting to be your friend. If you dumped a bowl of soup over your head, most of them would do the same.”
They giggled at the thought.
“But please don’t. I’m creating a masterpiece here and random bits of vegetables wouldn’t improve it.”
“Maurice has entered the palace.” Mrs. Schwartz announced over the excited chatter. “He’ll be here in six minutes.”
“Bring me a mirror,” Marissa said and held it in front of Claire.
Her eyes widened as she saw the pile of auburn hair stacked delicately on her head with curls hanging artfully down both sides of her face.
“See these?” she asked and pointed to the ebony sticks with the emerald inlay that matched her eyes. “When dinner is over, you will be going out to the village to meet with the people. It’s more of a casual affair and by then everyone will be quite intoxicated. Pull both sticks out and your hair will fall perfectly for a night out on the town. Dana, yours will do the same.”
“I can’t believe this is happening, I never dreamed…” Claire broke off, her eyes filled with unshed tears and her voice breaking with emotion. “Thank you so much.”
Marissa placed a kind hand on her shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze.
“You’ll be fine,” she said. “He really likes you. He’s never done anything like this for anyone else.”
Mrs. Schwartz shot her one of her infamous glares. The Kings’ personal business should not be talked about.
Marissa ignored her. “I’ve been cutting his hair for twenty years,” she continued. “In fact, I was trimming it when I got the call to come up here. I believe he is smitten with you. He actually cared what he looked like and asked if he should change his hair, comb it differently or cut it shorter. He’s never given a tinkers dam before and I think it’s because of a certain green-eyed lass.”
“OUT, OUT, EVERYONE OUT!” Maurice yelled as he barged through the door and started directing his people where to put the cases and garment bags they were carrying.
The room
emptied quickly, no one wanted to be on the harsh side of his tongue.
“Dancing first,” he said and pointed to various cases and bags that were quickly opened.
“Why are you still wearing those robes?” he demanded. “Off with them. Off. Off.”
Their night on the town clothes fit perfectly, were easy to move in and were velvety soft. They were comfortable and would hide smudges or dirt if they happened to sit on a barstool or bench that wasn’t exactly clean. Maurice hummed and hawed, pinched and pulled but was satisfied with his work.
“Off with them, time is wasting, how long do we have, Mrs. Schwartz?”
“Twenty-one minutes with no running,” she said. “Twenty-four if they do.”
“There will be no running.” Maurice said as he directed his assistants.
“I must apologize for the poor quality and workmanship of your gowns,” he said as he adjusted pleats and straps. “I simply did not have time to create them, these were modified from what I already had in the shop.”
“They’re beautiful.” Claire said as she looked at herself in a full-length mirror that had been wheeled in. “They’re gorgeous. I’ve never seen anything so lovely.”
“You are too kind, Mademoiselle,” he said, brushing off her praise but she saw him smile. “You are simply ravishing and your beauty is what makes the dress barely tolerable.”
“Eleven minutes.” Mrs. Schwartz announced.
“Makeup!” Maurice barked and the two women ran forward, brushes already in their hands.
They stood in the foyer of their apartment as final tweaks and adjustments were done to their dresses and hair. Neither had ever looked as glamourous. The closest had been their senior prom where they’d spent weeks preparing. Only a few hours ago they had been in jeans, hair pulled back in ponytails and sweaty from the hike to the lake. They had been tourists hoping to get in a day of sight-seeing before catching a train back to Paris and a flight home. Now they were wearing the finest clothes they had ever worn, finery befitting royalty, not college students. They were about to attend the most lavish ball in Europe, the likes of which hadn’t been seen in a decade. Many of the heads of State or their emissaries from all over the world would be in attendance.
“Now,” Mrs. Schwartz commanded with a glance at her watch. “You must leave now.”
The door opened as if by magic and a man in a tuxedo bowed slightly then said “If you ladies will follow me, I will be your escort.”
Dana took her hand and squeezed as they walked through the winding corridors.
“I think I have to pee,” Claire whispered and they both started giggling as they stepped into the hallway before the grand ballroom.
They could hear the buzz of many conversations through the closed double doors and standing near them, James and Frank were talking quietly. They looked up when the girls walked in and both stared wide eyed as they approached.
“You really know how to wine and dine a girl,” Dana told Frank and curtsied to him.
“You haven’t seen anything yet,” he said with a twinkle in his eye and a smile on his lips. “And we’re sorry for such short notice. If we hadn’t shanghaied you into it, you might have had time think of excuses not to come.”
“We were dateless and desperate,” James added, trying to look contrite in his black tuxedo. “I hope you can forgive us.”
“Maybe.” Dana said and did a little twirl for them. “It’ll depend on how well you can dance.”
“Stunning.” James said when Claire turned to show off the black and dark green dress that matched her eyes, the pendant and the inlay on the hair sticks. “Simply stunning.”
Claire took his proffered arm and stood beside him as trumpets sounded and their arrival was announced.
“You’ll be fine,” he said as she fidgeted and calmed her breathing as they waited for the doors to open and a thousand eyes turn on them.
“Once we get to the bottom of the steps, we’ll be engulfed in people wanting to express well wishes and say hello,” he whispered as the royal guards opened the ornate doors. “There will be a whole lot of hand shaking but dinner will be served in a half hour. We only have to survive until then.”
11
A Night on the Town
Dana and Frank were able to disappear into the crowd but Claire and James were the center of attention with an unending flow of dignitaries and emissaries wishing him well and offering short condolences, mostly commenting on what a great friend and leader King Karsten had been. It was a festive occasion, not to be marred by sadness, and the gathered leaders were decked out in their finest. Some were in official uniforms representing their countries with medals and sashes and even a few ornamental swords. She watched in fascination as James, her James, the somewhat shy college professor, greeted them all like old friends, knew their names and asked after grandchildren or commended them on recent accomplishments. He included her in the brief conversations as they made small talk and she thought she was handling it well. There were no pointed questions about who she was although she was sure many of them were wondering as they tried to place her accent.
She was dreading dinner but it wasn’t as formal as the occasion seemed to call for. She’d expected five different forks and spoons and had planned on watching others to make sure she chose the right one for the right dish. She’d envisioned an elevated table ornately set with fine linen and silver candlesticks. She thought there would be five courses and dessert served by uniformed servants and she was worried about all eyes watching her to make some sort of Galadorian faux pas. She was relieved when dinner was announced, the doors to the banquet room were opened and a row of food was in the center of the room with a stack of plates and cutlery at one end. It was a buffet. It was like going to the Golden Corral or the Chinese all you can eat restaurant but fancier. She relaxed when she saw it and James grinned.
“I told you it wouldn’t be too hateful,” he said and led her to the feast. “We’re known for our juxtapositions and improbable pairings. I would suggest avoiding the hot sauce pineapple and pickled bananas, though. They’re an acquired taste.”
The food was incredible and by the time everyone had their fill, most of the formality of the occasion had eased. Wine glasses were kept full by the army of waiters, more dishes brought out to replenish those that disappeared and she had to stop herself from going for thirds.
“I’ve never tasted so many flavors, so many wonderful dishes!” Dana exclaimed. “How do they do it?”
“Galadorian Banquets are famous around the world.” Frank proclaimed. “It’s been a good while since we’ve had one but there is a lottery of sorts and twenty chefs from twenty different countries are invited to prepare their best dishes. Your country is represented this time, the president sent the White House chef. He made the roast beef.”
“I can hardly believe it,” Dana said in a low whisper. “I’m sorry, Frank but we’d never heard of Galador until a few weeks ago. It’s not even on most of the maps I looked at.”
“That’s good,” he said with a smile. “We like it like that and it keeps us out of the news. The leaders and heads of states know of us, as do many Europeans, but we try to stay out of the limelight. If you are not interested in horse racing, fine wines or gambling, there is no reason to have heard of our quiet little Duchy.”
A chamber orchestra began playing in the ballroom and men were grabbed by the hands and led out of the dining hall. Some complained good naturedly, but none wanted to miss the occasion. It might be another decade before there was another ball. With the wine and the full bellies, most of the stiffness and formalities of the evening slipped away as couples danced on the hardwood floors under the soft lights. James and Frank were both light on their feet and led the girls in a few waltzes.
The evening passed quickly with pleasant conversations, introductions to important people and the occasional whirl around the dancefloor.
“Get ready,” James said as the musicians started a piece she didn
’t recognize, something completely different that was heavy and sombrous.
“For what?” she asked.
“It’s almost midnight,” he answered with a sly grin.
“What happens at midnight?” she asked as Frank and a breathless Dana slipped in beside them.
They had been doing a jitterbug type of dance to an upbeat song.
“They let loose the savages.” Frank said. “You have until the last strike of the clock to make your escape.”
“They what?” Claire asked her eyes going wide.
“Don’t let them catch you!” Frank yelled as the first bong of the clock rang loudly through the ballroom.
She heard the roar of a dozen men waving swords as the doors beside the stage burst open and they charged out.
“RUN!” they crowd yelled and many laughed at the barbarian’s antics as they tried to catch the future King. They were heavily armored, so much so they had a hard time moving and seeing out of their helmets.
The orchestra picked up the beat and men and women threw themselves in front of the marauding men as they tried to find the King in the sea of bodies. James grabbed her hand and led them off on a merry chase, darting around couples who blocked the path of the men in costume.
“I’ll save you, your Majesty!” and “My life for yours!” rang out as men and women diverted the hunting men. The laughter was catching and once she realized it was some sort of game, some ritual with foam swords, heavy padding, bumbling barbarians and everyone wanting to save the King, she began giggling herself.
James led her through the maze of people as the band played louder and faster and the clock sounded its thunderous gongs.
“HURRY YOUR GRACE!” someone shouted as the clock peeled its tenth tolling.
“Save us!” more shouted over the laughter of stumbling barbarians.
James spun around a couple and pulled her through a door as the clock struck its final note.
Heart of the Guardians: Adoring Destiny Page 8