The guard frowned. “Something is wrong with the scan.” He hammered his fist on a nearby panel. “Let’s try it again.”
The light beamed down and once again dissipated.
He groaned, getting out of his metal chair and walking around the booth.
“Is something wrong?” she asked. “I have all my ID and transfer papers.”
Ana fought to remain calm. This was all part of Samuel’s plan. They could fool a manual scan but not a pulse scan. The last thing she needed was another announcement that a Halt was onboard.
He groaned. “Wish I had more time.” He glanced at her lapel and counted the single star, quickly determining her rank. “What’s your name, Crewman?”
“Calla.”
He ran his finger along the device, searching for her name. “Here we are,” he said, tapping the screen twice. He reached out and shook her hand. “Welcome aboard, Sergeant Calla.” He gestured for her to walk through the now glowing green open passageway. “See you in the mess,” he added.
She nodded and passed through. She walked several paces, ignoring her burning desire to look back and see if she was being pursued. She kept walking and gratefully turned a corner out of view. Her shoulders sagged in relief, and she gave her duffel a reassuring pat. A small meow came from the bag.
“Shh, nearly there,” she whispered.
The corridors on the lower level were much narrower than those above. When a crewman passed her, she had to turn sideways to accommodate her. She nodded at Ana, and Ana returned the gesture. She continued until she reached an open hatch with metal stairs.
She climbed downward until her arms were sore. Finally, she reached the floor. The lighting had not yet been raised, but safety lighting outlined the walkway. It was a wide expanse and tall, too, reaching upward of twenty feet. The space was filled to the brim with cargo. Only the narrow walkway was available for passage.
Sitting on top of a wooden crate, obscured by shadow, was Samuel. “You make it through okay? No followers?”
“I don’t think so.” She shifted from foot to foot. “What now?”
“Our guy will be here soon. Our cargo containers are ready.” He pointed a row over at two wooden crates filled with some sort of straw.
Ana raised an eyebrow. “We’ll fit?” she asked.
“We better,” he said.
Ana stepped into the crate. She sat cross-legged and found her legs could rest against the straw with a couple of inches to spare. The crate was larger than she had thought. The lid would be about a foot above her head. Not bad. She could always pull the duffel in her lap. Petrie yowled.
“Did your bag just yowl?”
“Maybe…”
“Ana, what if he makes noise when we are being moved?”
“He won’t,” she said, releasing Petrie from the duffel. He curled up in a little ball on top of the canvas. “See?”
“Don’t get cocky,” Samuel chided. “Just because you made it here doesn’t mean you are safe. Once you step off this ship, a million new threats wait ahead.”
“Well, since you put it that way, oh goody!” she said in a monotone voice, pumping a fist in the air in fake jubilation.
A young man walked toward them. “This is our guy,” Samuel said, stepping forward with a wave. “Dixon,” he said, shaking his hand. “I owe you big for this one.”
“I hope so,” Dixon said, opening his hand.
Samuel slipped something into his hand, which quickly disappeared into Dixon’s pocket. Dixon looked around cautiously. “Alright, let’s do this before someone shows up.”
Petrie readjusted until he was positioned squarely in her lap. Dixon lifted the heavy lid with a grunt, and Ana ducked as it settled over top of her. Once it was in place, she sat up straight, realizing she did, in fact, have several inches. There were cracks between the boards, but it was too dark to see anything.
Ana waited for a long time in the darkness before falling asleep. When she woke, she was nauseated and confused. The ground beneath her shuddered violently as the Bumblebee broke orbit. Petrie let out a low yowl. More strange movements, starts, and stops. And finally, everything was calm.
She waited. And waited.
Heavy footsteps echoed across the cavernous cargo bay, and she heard a pop of air and the rattle of a large metallic door being opened. Light streamed into the room, filtering through the cracks of Ana’s crate. Ana and Petrie waited, ears perked and, in Petrie’s case, fur bristled.
Their crate scraped against the floor and tilted sideways. Ana braced herself, pushing against the sides of the crate.
“No,” she heard a man’s voice say. Dixon? “I’ve got that one and the one next to it. Fragile stuff. For the Jacobs family.”
The man nearly dropped her box in his haste to put it back on the ground. Apparently, you didn’t mess with the Jacobses’ stuff.
A few moments later, they were moving again. Sunshine streamed through the cracks in the crate. Ana took in her first sights of Bellaton. Cattails swayed in the breeze, and water shimmered. She smelled sea air. She was near an ocean.
8
Bellaton
The crate came to a crashing halt, and the top was pried off. Ana scrambled out and looked at her new surroundings. She was in what appeared to be a lofted apartment with big windows and ornate molding.
Samuel walked Dixon to the door and slid a plastic card into his outstretched palm. “Thanks again.”
Dixon exited the room without another word, glancing over his shoulder.
“Where are we?” Ana asked.
“We’re in a small seaside town. Only a few blocks from the academy. And we’re expecting guests.”
Ana made her way to the nearest window and gazed down at the extraordinary sight below. The cobblestone street was teeming with people and activity. Everything burst with color—people in exotic clothing, carts spilling over with flowers, and flags rippling in the light wind. Strips of colorful cloth danced in between classic Parisian-style buildings made of ivory limestone and reaching a couple of stories into the sky.
Ana pushed open the old, sturdy window, and the mouth-watering aroma of roasting street meat and sea air wafted in. The most spectacular sight of all was the sky itself. Ana leaned out the old window and gazed up at the faint white whisper of four moons hanging in the brightly lit sky. She could only begin to imagine how strange it would be come nightfall.
The sounds from the street were so loud that she barely noticed Samuel approaching. “Get away from the window,” he warned.
“I know, I know,” she said, waving him away. “I just want to take it all in.”
He flopped down on a velveted chesterfield in the center of the room. “You’ll be in the thick of it soon enough.”
A twinge of worry constricted her chest, but she shook it off. It would be easy. She would be fine. It was as Samuel had said, all she had to do was smile and wave. The point was only to be seen. The more people who saw her, the safer she was. The safer her brothers were. The only person this rule didn’t apply to was Samuel himself. Though he refused to go into details, he insisted he could not be seen, for his safety as well as hers.
The welcome parade dated back many centuries, Samuel had explained. It was an opportunity for the town and its people to welcome back the students for another school year and honor the seven families. Each family would be represented in the parade.
Ana stared back out the window at the foreign flags and insignias, trying to keep her mind occupied. “What are those tattered ones?” she asked, pointing at strips of torn cloth, knotted and draped like garland between the buildings.
“The clothes worn to last year’s festival. Each year, the locals rip them up to make decorations for the new festival. It’s supposed to be lucky, though if you ask me there is nothing particularly lucky about having to destroy your new clothes, especially when you’re poor.”
Ana looked out to examine the people more carefully. Were they poor? From up here, it was hard
to say. They looked happy. Like they were all on vacation. Maybe they were. Was this an actual holiday?
Before she could give it much thought, there was a knock at the door. Ana turned from the window with a start.
“They’re friends,” Samuel assured her, though she noticed he checked the peephole before opening the door.
A tall, dignified man entered first with two girls trailing behind him. The girls looked to be around ten or twelve. Shepherding them all in was a dark-skinned woman with bold makeup. To the untrained eye, they looked like a family.
But to Ana, it was clearly untrue. It was hard to believe this man and this woman could ever be together. It wasn’t just the age discrepancy, though they appeared to be separated by nearly twenty years. The woman gave off the feeling of warm eccentricity, like a summer lightning storm watched from the safety of a porch. The man, however, seemed as tidy and prim as a pressed linen bedsheet. No, these two could not be a match.
The man bowed deeply before rolling his covered cart into the corner to set up. The girls bowed to Ana, and with a giggle and a nudge from the woman, ran off to the adjoining bathroom. Ana heard the water turn on. The woman turned to Ana and bowed. She wore electric yellow eyeshadow, and at the corner of each eye shined a matching gemstone. “Hello, Princess,” she said in a deep, warm tone. “I am your stylist, Zora.”
“Hi,” she managed. All the bowing was hard to take in, as was the quantity of makeup on the woman before her. “You can just call me Ana.”
Zora’s face twitched into a smile, though it quickly turned into a frown as she glanced Samuel, now lounging on the couch again. “We don’t have a lot of time before the parade starts. Mr.—”
“Please call me Samuel,” he interrupted, rising rapidly from the couch as though to stop her words.
Her lips tightened. “Very well, Mr. Samuel is running behind schedule.”
Ana was surprised by the rapid change in Zora. It seemed as though she and Samuel had met before, and not in a good way. She wondered how exactly they knew each other.
“My apologies, Zora,” Samuel said in his most genteel voice. “It’s really an honor to have you with us and on such short notice too.”
She gave him one last distrustful glance before returning her attention to Ana. She grasped Ana’s hands in her own. “It’s my pleasure. I knew your family would return.” Then, she let them drop. “Now, on to business. Your adviser, Madame Bali, will arrive within the hour, but we have a lot of work to do first. Let’s start with wardrobe.”
The refined man beamed at Ana. “I’m Michael. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he said with another bow. The rack of clothing was now uncovered, revealing swaths of emerald-green velvet, whispers of sky-blue silk, hand-embroidered black lace, and deep scarlet linen among many others. Michael ran his hands over each garment and looked at Ana, considering.
When he reached a deep blue dress that ebbed and glowed as though lightning bugs had been sewn into the fabric itself, Ana reached out to touch it. He shook his head. “No, no. More of an evening gown.” A black lace mermaid-style dress caught her attention next. He hesitated on it for a moment before finally saying, “Too formal.” Among the other discarded options was a dress that changed from shimmering gold to silver whenever she turned her head. It had been covered in something Ana could only describe as high-end sequins. “Much too flashy. Who pulled this?” he muttered irritably.
Finally, he set aside two garments: a long yellow skirt made of heavy linen and a cropped top made of entirely black lace applique. Ana didn’t care much what she wore, so she shrugged as Zora motioned her toward the bathroom. The two girls stood like sentinels on each side of the bathroom door.
“Go on and have a soak. The girls will be in to wash your hair in a few moments,” Zora said.
Ana’s head snapped over to the girls in confusion. “I can wash my own hair,” she assured Zora.
“You can, but you won’t,” Zora said firmly.
“It’s tradition that handmaidens from the princess’s native province assist her prior to the celebration,” Samuel added. He smirked a little, and she thought he might be enjoying her discomfort. She narrowed her eyes at him, but his smirk only grew larger. She thought how fun it would be to tip him right off that chesterfield and onto the floor.
She reluctantly left him and entered the steam-filled bathroom. The air was earthy and perfumed. A familiar smell. Honeysuckle and sage and earth. Flower petals drifted in the gently circulating water of an enormous tub. She wondered if she could swim a lap if she tried. Instead, she left her clothes in a pile on the tile and let herself sink into the relaxing waters.
Soon there was a gentle knock on the door, and the two girls entered. They wore sandals and simple sage green dresses. The tallest one looked like she had just hit a growth spurt, and her body hadn’t quite caught up with her long, gangly arms. A grin covered her face from ear to ear. She nudged the smaller girl, who said in a squeaky excited voice, “We’re here to help.”
“You really don’t have to,” Ana said, raising her head up out of the water to peer over at them.
The tall girl’s enormous grin fell away, and she bit her lip. “Oh…okay. We shouldn’t have been chosen, but since it was short notice, they had to find someone from the island that lived in town, and there weren’t but a handful of us…”
The other girl piped up, “We know we aren’t what you were expecting, but we want to help.”
“No, no,” Ana rushed out. “That’s not what I meant at all. You guys are great.” The little girl’s face tipped cautiously upward. “It’s just I’m used to doing things on my own.”
The smaller girl asked, “No one’s ever washed your hair for you?”
Ana thought for a moment. “Maybe my mom a long time ago.”
As she spoke the words, each girl placed a hand over her heart and raised it to the sky in what Ana could only assume was a tribute to the dead. “Alright,” she relented, “but only if you promise to call me Ana. And no bowing. And I’d love to hear all about the island. If you don’t mind, of course.”
The tall girl grinned. The smaller one bobbed her head up and down in agreement. The two girls, Keia and Leilani, told her all about the island—an amazing place untouchable to outsiders, where rocks stabbed up from the ocean and airplanes fell mysteriously from the sky and where their grandmothers’ grandmothers lived.
They told her about the inhabitants who had the gift of song and could bring peace and healing with it when they all sang together. Ana wasn’t sure how much of their stories she believed, but the girls were animated and giggling when Ana finally realized how pruney she was getting.
The girls waited for Ana just outside the door. “Let us know if you need anything,” Keia called as the door swung shut.
A heavy cotton robe and matching slippers waited on the edge of the tub. Ana slipped them on. Her wet hair clung to her neck in thick tendrils before dripping onto the dry robe. Ana cinched the robe tightly and reached for the doorknob, but before she could turn it, an automated whirlwind of warm air twisted around her, drying her thoroughly. She looked around to see where the air was coming from. Among the decadent crown molding, on each side of the door, were two stone cherubs—each chubby faced and looking downward with their mouths in a slight O expression. She had to assume the air was coming from them.
It was one of the first high-tech things she had seen since leaving the spaceship. Everything here was steeped in tradition. A step in a dance learned long ago. Even this was so, a modern convenience wrapped up in the trappings of a bygone era.
Ana exited into the main room. Zora shooed the girls away and guided her toward Michael. “How was your bath? Peaceful?”
Samuel looked up from his window perch, cigarette smoke curling away in the wind. His lip twitched upward in one corner. “You look relaxed.”
His smirk was not appreciated, but she knew why he was doing it. She had protested about the bath and the hair washing,
and yet here she was glowing in the aftermath of luxury. She frowned, working up a retort, but was interrupted.
The door clicked open, and a thoughtful-looking woman with tan skin and dark hair tied in a series of intricate knots entered. She looked like she could have been Ana’s mother’s age.
She took a rapid appraisal of the scene and said firmly, “Cigarette out, Mr. Samuel. You will ruin the energy of the room.”
“And who exactly are you?” Samuel asked, rising from the couch to step between the newcomer and Ana.
“I am Madame Bali. I have been called on as adviser.”
“The hell you have,” Samuel snarled.
“Why such hostility? This has all been arranged. Ms. Kandinsky’s team has been in touch with me, just as they have with Zora and you.”
“I’ll be checking on that.”
Madame Bali inclined her head. “I would expect nothing less. I think you’ll find everything is in order.”
“Madame Bali is well known on the isle,” Zora added. “I look forward to working together.”
Grudgingly, Samuel allowed Madame Bali to pass.
She approached Ana and swept into a deep bow. “You must be Princess Anabella Halt of the Seven.”
“You can call me Ana,” she said for what felt like the hundredth time today.
Madame Bali grimaced ever so slightly before nodding. “As you wish, Anabella.”
Ana sighed. She had a feeling this was the best she was going to get. At least today. She let the matter drop. Instead, she said, “I thought Samuel would be my adviser.”
Zora snorted.
Madame Bali gave her a sharp glance before answering, “Mr. Samuel is far too young to be advising anyone. He is also not of the family or the island, and so is not eligible.”
As weird and paranoid as Samuel was, he had earned her trust. He had saved her life and gotten her this far.
Before Ana could voice her disappointment, Madame Bali continued, “I wish we had more time for introductions. However, given the time”—she flicked her eyes up in the corner of her tortoiseshell glasses at a small holographic projection—“it’s probably best we get you dressed.”
Seven Crowns (Bellaton Book 1) Page 6