by Lucy Tempest
I turned to her and Cora. “Did this happen before? A competition for the prince to find a bride?”
“Not in recent memory, I think. The last time this happened was over a century ago?” Cherine glanced at Cora questioningly.
Cora turned her calloused hands up and shrugged. “Not from here. Have no princes, either.”
Cherine’s irritation with Cora’s nonchalance seemed to deepen as she side-eyed her while she continued talking to me. “I think there weren’t many unmarried noble girls left by the time King Arsenius? Artaxias? Abraxas—Yes, King Abraxas succeeded his father without a betrothed. So, he held the bride search and picked his queen from the line-up.”
“How did it become a competition then?” Cora asked.
“When Cyaxares, our current unattached crown prince, said so.” Cherine huffed crankily, crossing her arms. “Can’t understand why, considering that, unlike Abraxas, there are noblemen’s daughters, who have the advantage of also being relatives, for him to marry.”
Interesting. It sounded like Cherine and the Nazaryan family had been holding out hope for him to marry her before he sent out summons to forty-nine other prospective brides. I wondered why Prince Cyaxares had pulled something like this when he had an abundance of queen prospects roaming around his kingdom’s backyard. He must be hard to please.
But if they were all entitled brats like Fairuza and Cherine, I couldn’t blame him.
Cora, on the other hand—now she was interesting.
I took advantage of Cherine getting up to fetch something from her bag to lean over to Cora. “Hey, thanks for helping me out back there.”
Cora blinked as if she didn’t get that I was addressing her, pointing to herself.
“With Fairuza,” I elaborated.
Realization entered her eyes, along with something else. I had a feeling she’d known I was lying, and this had been why she’d helped me. I wondered why.
She finally waved it off. “It was nothing.”
“No, seriously, thank you.”
She saluted me and said nothing more. She was the opposite of Cherine, a girl of few words, talking only when she had something important to say. It seemed I wouldn’t get an explanation from her. Hopefully, I wouldn’t be around long enough to worry about more slip-ups and wouldn’t need her to bail me out again until I bailed out myself.
The train had climbed further up, the spiraling ascensions becoming tighter and more frequent. Anticipation tugged at my gut as glimpses of the palace appeared above us.
“You’re going to like this next bit,” Cherine told us, pointing around the next turn.
We rounded the corner and sheets of water instantly dropped down on us, pouring down the windows as we went through a faintly glowing waterfall.
Behind it was a cave, the ever-shifting reflection of the cascading water dancing on its walls. The train’s movement set off millions of blue dots and they came to life, lighting our way as we traveled deeper inside the mountain.
It was more beautiful than anything had been so far. In such a magical place, that was saying something.
“What is this?”
With all the confidence in the world, Cherine said it was, “A natural nightlight, bits of rock that glow when they feel warmth,” only to be shut down by Cora who said, “It’s not the rock, it’s the algae growing on them. They thrive in damp, dark areas like this and glow when disturbed.”
Whatever it was, this breathtaking spectacle lasted just long enough to ready the stage for the main event as the train emerged onto the mountain plateau: the palace.
Under the bright starlight, it glittered like a colossal jewel, its silver spires piercing the sky and its blue-glass domes gleaming like they were imbued by some luminescent magic. As we approached it from a certain angle one of its entrances came into view. The most eye-catching parts of its façade were towering bronze double-doors fitted in a vast arch, worked in intricate, interlocking carvings that depicted a single scene from top to bottom. In this light, I could make out a giant bird, each wing spread on a door.
The train finally stopped about a hundred feet from the entrance, and those incredible doors swung open. The whole interior of the train was bathed in a warm light that emanated from the palace, revealing a line of silhouettes standing on the steps leading up to it.
Every compartment door of the train flew open and the girls flooded out in a stampede. They were quickly trapped in a tight mass of squirming arms, squished cheeks and stomped feet.
I held back an eager Cherine and a curious Cora after they gathered their stuff. “Better for us to be the last ones out.”
Cherine, who seemed prepared to elbow her way out as she had her way in, disagreed. “We need to be at the forefront so we can be the first ones to be seen and make an impression.”
I shook my head. “Trust me, if you go out now and fall into that pile, you’re not going to make a good impression.”
I didn’t want to leave an impression at all. It was how I’d slip in and out unnoticed.
She eyed the mess outside and cringed. “I guess you’re right.”
We watched the dozens of girls shove at each other on their way to the entrance. Even dreading what I’d have to face once I was inside that palace, the random yelps of pain and frustrated screams that carried to us out of the hubbub made me smile, and even laugh once.
Once they were all out we followed, stepping off at our own pace. As we approached the back of the throng of girls, I saw our greeting party clearly for the first time.
Standing in two lines on each side of the wide stairs, nine imposing figures in embellished costumes stared out of impassive faces, not focusing on any of us. So much for making an impression. Which was too bad for Cherine, but great for me. I wanted to be as unnoticeable as a short stalk in a cornfield.
The oldest of our greeting party, an imposing, greying man in an embroidered beige coat that covered his white silk pants introduced himself as Master ZuhaÏr, before opening up a long scroll and reading out names. The girls, at last, got the hint to shut up and listen.
Each girl who heard her name stepped out and joined a growing line by our greeting party, giving me a good look at her, her dress and her jewelry. The least impressive, and the one who drew the most gossiping whispers, was Cora.
“Cora Greenshoot!” When there was no response from her, the man called again, impatiently. “Miss Cora Greenshoot of the Granary.”
Slouching, Cora moved over to the line, aiming empty stares back at everyone judging her. Whispers passed over us in a wave, all mockingly repeating “Miss!” as if it was the funniest thing they had ever heard. She was the only one without a fancy title. Her mother held a title that Cherine found beneath her. An elected not an inherited one, perhaps.
Despite the cold breeze at this elevation, sweat was drenching the back of my head and dress as I watched every name calling up a girl more glamorous than the one before. Lines of ladies, a few baronesses, and the odd duchess cropped up, then—
“Princess Fairuza of Arbore.”
Princess? She was a princess?
Fairuza picked up her skirt, turned her nose up at us all and effortlessly glided over to her spot on glittering grey heels. The whispers turned into murmurs, oohs and aahs of wonder and admiration, and a few surprised gasps of “A princess!”
A satisfied smile played on her red lips, no doubt pleased with the awed comments reaching her ears.
“Is she the only princess here?” I asked Cherine.
“I can see one more at least, but she’d be the most special here,” Cherine said bitterly, thin brows meeting in a grouchy expression. “Her father is King of Arbore and her mother was once Princess of Cahraman. They should cut out the whole show now and make it a choice between her and me.”
So, that was what Cherine had meant about Fairuza uniting East and West. She was royal on both sides of her family, with her mother being from an eastern kingdom and her father being the monarch of a western one,
connecting the ends of Folkshore.
I examined her again as she stopped beside Master ZuhaÏr, surveyed us with all the haughtiness of her status and even more assurance in her chances than Cherine.
I had many expectations of what a princess should look and be like, thanks to hearing about Ericura’s nobles, and from the many legends that feature them as unwitting heroines on quests and damsel rewards for chivalrous men. Fairuza was as beautiful as the tales promised, but as far as I could tell, she lacked every other endearing trait.
More girls followed, and the only other princess was called—an Ariane of Tritonia. The crowd was thinning and I would soon find myself standing alone. The sweat plastering my dress and hair to my body now felt more like someone had dumped saltwater down my back.
Nariman hadn’t even bothered to prepare me for any of this. She’d just seen me, somehow knew I was a petty thief and had snatched me out of my land and into hers. That, and the glamorous transformation was one thing. But how had she gotten past palace scribes or clerks or whomever it was that had sent out the summons? When she was magically barred from entering the kingdom? How would I explain my presence? What would I say—
“Lady Ada of Rose Isle!”
All worries deflated out of my mouth, nose and ears like steam, cooling my heated brain, leaving me lightheaded.
Cherine put a hand flat on my back and pushed. “Go!”
“Right. Sorry. Lady Ada, that’s me.”
I wiped my sweaty palms on my skirt as I nearly tripped over it again, stepping on the inner hem that slipped under my foot. My mind spun with questions as I stumbled into the line.
How on earth did they get that part? I’d pulled that name and that place out of thin air.
Had Nariman somehow known what I’d said? Had that qarin transmitted what it heard to her? And she’d worked by its magic remotely, making it place my new identity among the others as soon as I had created it?
Why that should impress me even more than anything she’d done so far, I had no idea. But it did seem her magic was strictly long distance when it came to this place.
When every girl had been called, with Cherine being the last one, she bullied her way in front of me, not content with a position at the rear.
The greeting party ushered us into the palace, past the entrance, and into the significantly warmer interior. The floor was fitted with a lush, red, velvet carpet woven extensively with what looked like real gold thread, the parts we trod on instantly darkening and twinkling.
The curve of the ceiling held huge squares that made me feel like an ant, each dangling a crystal ball chandelier that looked like a giant soap bubble and emitted a soft, permeating light. They looked a bit too plain for their surroundings.
I craned my neck, turning my face up and, sure enough, I saw the reason for the simplicity. Instead of going all out with involved, colorful depictions like some temple walls, each square was in a different shade, depicting the sun from dawn to sunset, on a background of shifting blue. Each sun’s wavy rays looked like embossed plaster painted with pearlescent shades, but at the same time seemed to be alive with energy. The chandeliers were just there to illuminate the masterpieces.
The clarity of the pattern and its range of hues depended on which angle I was viewing it from, going from faint to radiant as I passed underneath. It was mesmerizing!
If I were this captivated by one ceiling, I’d be starstruck by the rest of this palace’s décor.
Past the entrance hall, we stepped inside a grand reception paved entirely in mirror-like green marble with outlines of abalone, with a matching staircase that spiraled up into two opposing flights.
Master ZuhaÏr came to stand in front of the midpoint of the first step. “You will now be separated into groups and taken to your quarters. Once you have settled in, you will be given schedules that detail what you are to prepare for and participate in during the week.”
Cherine’s voice rose, clearly annoyed. “Where is the prince? Why isn’t he here?”
Master ZuhaÏr bowed his head to her. “I’m afraid he won’t be here for some time to come, Lady Cherine. You will have to go through the filtering process at the hands of the panel of judges for the first three tests before you can be allowed audience with His Royal Highness.”
And that was the best piece of news I’d had in this dreadful, maddening day.
Chapter Seven
I’d be long gone before the prince deigned to inspect the contestants vying for his hand.
The thought defused some of my tension, and made me breathe a little easier.
It clearly had the opposite effect on Cherine. She placed her hands on her hips as she advanced on Master ZuhaÏr, talking at him rather than to him. “But that’s not how the Bride Search is supposed to work. He’s supposed to meet each one over the course of the month and pick his favorites. Then, once he’s down to a handful, with a little more time with each, pick his princess. Why isn’t he seeing us?”
“He has his reasons,” a loud female voice answered her.
I whipped my head up and saw a regal woman slowly descending the stairs, her heels clicking on each step like a knife on a crystal glass, the echoes following each footfall like a background beat. She was wearing an emerald mermaid gown that was fully embroidered with what looked like real diamonds and hugged her statuesque, curvaceous figure to perfection. She had the same long neck and high cheekbones as Fairuza, but the cat-like eyes were more like Cherine’s, and made more striking by thick kohl and lime-green eye shadow. She had a beauty mark under her right eye, eyebrows that curved at the ends and her dark hair was parted down the middle and rolled up in a thick bun, all topped with a platinum tiara set with diamonds and emeralds.
She was stunning, radiating power and confidence, though not the same way Nariman did. No, this was the assurance of status, not skills. The knowledge that you could have anyone’s head with a snap of your fingers.
A third of the girls immediately bowed. Clearly, they knew who she was. The rest of us quickly caught up and followed suit.
“Princess Loujaïne, the king’s most esteemed sister and advisor,” ZuhaÏr introduced her with a deep bow and a flourish. “Her Highness will honor you by joining those who will evaluate you before you can meet the prince. In time, if she deems you worthy, you will be among the Final Five who will be granted audience with His Highness.”
Loujaïne glanced across the line, briefly pausing at two she seemed to recognize. Rubbing one hand over the other in a washing motion, catching the light in sparks on her rings, she stepped onto the floor.
“There are precisely fifty of you here today.” Her voice, clear, powerful and melodious, rang off every surface, commanding undivided attention, her sweeping gaze going over the tops of our heads. “Only five can ascend to the final stage but only one can become queen. The Bride Search is an ancient tradition, going back to before the founding of this kingdom, when we were roaming tribes that lived out in the wilderness among ifrits and ghouls. A chieftain’s son often found himself the only one of his generation who survived infancy or wars, and needed to establish his power with alliances. So he would send envoys to search for a bride who would fulfill all his requirements. Though the practice has rarely been used since the establishment of borders and governed relationships between different freeholds and kingdoms, it is still just as vital as it was before. If not more so.”
She came up to us, towering over all save myself and Cora, the train of her green gown swishing behind her, giving us a clear view of her pointed, golden slippers. “You need to not only fill requirements of health, upbringing, and class, but prove that you can offer more; that you can be an excellent hostess to visitors and allies, a fair arbiter to the people and a firm custodian to captives. You must be capable of commanding staff, of taking charge in moments of need, and, most importantly, of being a worthy companion for your king.
“Whichever of you proves to have potential will stay to the next round. Whoever is dee
med a waste of our time will not.” Her voice hardened and so did her glare as she scrutinized each face before her. “And whoever dishonors the rules will be dealt with.”
The fact that she left out how they would be dealt with scared me more than if she’d mentioned any specific punishment. That left us to fill in the blanks and imagine the worst.
Nariman had asked me if I’d ever been caught. I couldn’t even contemplate what would happen if this was the time when my luck finally ran out.
“I assume girls with your upbringing would know what the rules are,” Loujaïne continued scathingly, as if she was certain that this wasn’t necessarily true. “Nonetheless, I will state them, so none of you can claim ignorance in the future.” The stern look in her silvery eyes, now as brilliant as white opals as the lights from above bathed her, shifted with their color, emanating the same reprimanding displeasure that permeated her voice. “There will be no attempts to seek out the prince. You are not allowed to bribe palace staff to be shown his private quarters or be given audience with the king, or for any other favors or differential treatment. You are not allowed to have visitors, slaves or servants apart from a handmaiden. You are not to speak to any male member of the panel or staff alone or outside of evaluations. You are not allowed any outside assistance on any tests or permitted to use enchanted objects or any magic whatsoever.”
She continued to list specific rules and warnings, all limitations that would get in the way of my mission. Good thing I didn’t have to bother with any of that. As soon as I found the lamp I was out.
Too bad I’d be long gone when the inevitable catfight between both of the prince’s cousins took place. I would have liked to witness that showdown.
“You will be divided into ten groups, each monitored by a judge,” Loujaïne concluded. “Those gifted the blue opals will come with me.”
Blue opals?
I glanced at my wrist as dread sank slowly throughout my guts. Had Nariman also arranged this? Making me a part of Princess Loujaïne’s group of contestants? But if I was part of her group, how was I going to slip past her?