by Julie Berry
“Pardon me, ladies, gentlemen,” she said, “but I believe a moment of fresh air would do me good. Please excuse me for a few moments.”
The king and several ladies rose to accompany her. Ought I to have done the same?
“Pray, stay where you are and enjoy your supper,” she begged. “I’ll only be a moment, composing myself.” And, gathering up her purse and clutching her skirts very charmingly, she hurried off toward the draped glass doors that led to the balconies.
Her departure left me only one empty chair away from King Leopold. I stared at my plate to avoid any danger of him recognizing me. This left me face-to-face with the offending egg.
“It was an odd song the princess sang, I daresay,” said a weedy-looking woman clad in an orange gown. “Those Merlians do express themselves strangely.”
“Come! Our manners!” cried the king, looking my way with great concern. “Gentle ladies, do not forget that this lovely young woman, Lady Marie Bellinger, is Princess Annalise’s own Merlian cousin. I dare say Merlians are as apt to find our Pylandrian music odd, as we are to marvel at theirs. Isn’t that so, Cousin Bellinger?”
All eyes at the table fixed upon me. What could I say to sound like a gentlewoman at all, never mind a Merlian?
“But that’s scarcely a fair question,” the king said, reproving himself. “Tell me, cousin, does music run throughout your family? Won’t you favor us with a song as well?”
Oh, no!
“It lacks a few days yet before this young lady will be your cousin, sire,” observed the duchess, seated at supper with us.
“Mere formalities,” said the king. He raised his hands and clapped for our hostess’s butler, who appeared instantly. “Tell the conductor of the orchestra, please, to prepare his men to play a piece for Lady Marie Bellinger to sing.”
“Oh yes, Lady Bellinger,” said Anthony Boudreau, working his way through a roasted quail. “I should be most eager to hear you sing.”
“My lord king,” I said, affecting a stuffy, congested voice. “Pray do not inconvenience the orchestra master. I do not, I confess, claim anything like unto my cousin’s gift. I lack both the native talent and the will to polish my art that she has shown.”
The king, who looked resplendent tonight in a crimson coat with his coat of arms emblazoned upon the front, looked unwilling to surrender. An admirable quality for a king, in general, but at present I found it extremely vexing.
“An instrument, then,” he said. “Or perhaps an exhibition of dance?”
“My lord,” the butler intoned with a voice of velvet. “At present, the orchestra is preparing to vacate the stage. Lady Fitzmaurice has engaged a circus of extraordinary performers to amuse us next.”
“A circus!” cried the king. “I haven’t seen a circus since I was a child, visiting the Rovarian court with my father.” He raised his glass to Lady Fitzmaurice, the duchess. “Bravo, my dear duchess. You do know how to treat your guests.”
The duchess beamed. I brushed the caviar off my curried egg with my fork and blessed the advent of the circus. It had saved me from a ghastly fate, and I planned to cheer their performance. The caviar rolled around my plate, and I contemplated trying to flick some into my purse for my nameless little leviathan, but decided the risk was too great.
No fish eggs?
I’m sorry, I told my friend. I can’t give them to you here.
I must go swimming soon, Mistress, he said.
I know.
I’ll take him as soon as possible, I promised myself. I remembered clearly this morning’s disaster at the Rumsens’ and I imagined my leviathan leaping into a bowl of punch …
The king’s gaze kept drifting toward the door where Annalise had slipped outside. He seemed on the verge of going after her. I thought of Aidan coming after me. My thoughts had traveled this well-worn track all evening. Why had Aidan come? What did he feel for me?
And why had I treated him so coldly?
And still, why, oh why had he kissed me in the first place? And how soon could I abolish the thought of it? All this aggravation, just because some brute of a neighbor boy, with two full lips but only half a brain, had used me for kissing practice. Oh, I made myself sick!
The party showed no signs of stopping. Servants cleared away the orchestra’s chairs. Conversation buzzed at each table. Perfume drifted from imposing centerpieces of fresh-cut hothouse flowers. Repulsive though he was, it was tempting to lay my powdered head upon Anthony Boudreau’s shoulder and fall asleep.
I raised my glass to my lips and paused. I had the uneasy feeling someone was watching me.
Someone was. King Leopold.
I met his gaze for an instant, then lowered mine. My heart thumped in my chest. Please don’t recognize me.
“Cousin Bellinger,” the king said, “did we meet when I visited Merlia last summer?”
I kept my face low. “No, my lord,” I said to my roll and butter.
He stroked his close-cropped beard. “Are you sure?”
“Quite sure, my lord.”
He frowned. “I could swear I’ve met you before.”
Once again I felt all eyes at the table upon me. Wherever the king’s interest lay, their curiosity followed.
“I am sure that my lord’s far-reaching acquaintances include many young women who resemble me.” I took a sip from my glass.
“The odd thing,” the russet-bearded courtier said, “is how little you resemble a Merlian.”
How I wished Annalise would return! “Oh, is that the circus about to begin?” I said. “I’ve never seen one.”
Lord Redbeard favored me with another welcome piece of his intellect. “Small wonder, that,” he said. “Those wild islanders of Merlia aren’t civilized enough for a circus of their own.”
“That’ll do, Ralph,” the king said.
“More civilized in Pylander, are you?” I retorted, before I could quite stop myself. “As it happens, I spent some time touring the countryside of Pylander before arriving here in Chalcedon, and while I was traveling along the king’s highway just a few days ago, my coach was robbed by a highwayman!”
“How romantic!” cried the wispy woman in the orange dress.
“Not at all,” I snapped. “It was brutal and horrid. He could have killed us all. As it is, he killed the driver in cold blood and made off with the coach, horses, luggage, and all the mail.”
“Salmon fillet?” said the oily servant, who’d returned with a new tray.
Annalise returned to her seat, which King Leopold held out for her. His attention, however, was all on my story.
“Where was this, cousin?” the king demanded. “Which stretch of road? What province?”
“I was en route to Fallardston, heading north,” I said. “I am lucky to have my life. The bandit was a lone desperado, but he was threat enough to subdue and rob an entire coach of passengers. Is this how the civilized peace of Pylander is upheld on the king’s roads?”
“Lord love me, Cousin Marie,” Annalise said, placing a fluttering hand over her heart. “You never told me you faced such perils on your journey. I should have died of fright!”
“Salmon fillet?” the server repeated, waving his platter before me.
“Yes, please,” I told him, for he was rather imposing, but even at awkward times I was fond of fish. I wondered if I should regret my outburst, wondering if I’d said too much or said it too poorly to maintain my disguise.
The server dropped the fillet onto my plate with his tongs, and its juices splashed all over my bodice.
“For shame, man,” the duchess cried, giving the server a scathing look. “Be more careful!”
Princess Annalise giggled slightly. The server’s spectacled eyes closed in mortification. He made a silent retreat. I dabbed myself with my napkin.
“I apologize, Lady Bellinger,” the duchess said. “These extras one hires in for parties … ”
“It’s all right,” I said. Heaven knew, the purple gown was not my own.
“Nothing of the sort,” I said. “It takes no bravery to be robbed.”
“We’re missing this marvelous circus,” Princess Annalise said, with rather a forced smile. “How droll of you to find them and bring them here for us, Lady Fitzmaurice.”
“Well, I only just heard of them two days ago,” the duchess replied. “They came and did a demonstration for me, and I couldn’t resist. They’re Rovarians. They call themselves ‘The Circus Phantasmagoria.’ ”
I abandoned my salmon and turned toward the dais where the orchestra had been. There stood the circus, two men and two women clad in tight-fitting, garish-colored, tasseled clothes with hoods that covered their hair. The women, especially, were shocking in that their skirts barely reached their knees, while their legs were clad in bright hose like the men. One man wore face paint and juggled colorful balls while the other, who was shirtless and wore no paint, juggled flaming batons. One young woman astonished us all by leaping and tumbling across the stage in front of them while the other woman twirled a spinning baton, then pulled a series of daggers from her belt. With them she impaled the four corners and then the center of a square target, with deadly precision.
The duchess’s guests all gasped, then clapped. On cue, one by one, the ball juggler ceased, the flame juggler quenched his torches in his own mouth, the acrobat landed in an impossible split-legged pose, and they all bowed together. Then the ball juggler whistled, and the guests exclaimed in wonder.
For, prancing out onto the stage, in a tiny jacket and cap, came his monkey.
“Chick-chick-chick-eeet!”
Chapter 29
“Weren’t they captivating?”
Princess Annalise hadn’t ceased exclaiming over the circus the entire carriage ride back to the palace.
“Captivating,” King Leopold concurred for the third time, drawing his arm tighter around her shoulders. He looked as though he’d rather be discussing other subjects with Annalise than the circus. He also looked as though he wished I weren’t present in the coach at just that particular moment. But he kept up his manners bravely.
“Wouldn’t it be delightful, darling, if they accompanied us on our honeymoon voyage?”
I was busy with my own thoughts about the circus. The man who juggled and swallowed flames was the scarred man from the coach. His lady companion was the dagger mistress. The monkey man sailed on The White Dragon, and I treated his snakebite. His lithe companion was the lady acrobat. All four seemed like completely different people when they performed.
But the strangest part of all, the thing that would haunt my dreams, I was sure, was what happened when the Circus Phantasmagoria was taking its bows. The little monkey loped all around the room, holding out his cap for coins. Whenever someone paid, he shook his or her hand, which delighted most guests, if not all. I had no coin for him, and I shrank back. But the little monkey shook my hand anyway. When he finished, there in my hand rested my gypsy charm. A vertebra on a dirty brown string. The snakebite charm I’d given to his master.
How had he recognized me? And why did he give it back?
And what if … but that was impossible.
What if it was not the man, but the monkey who recognized me and returned my charm? What if the charm had a mind of its own?
What nonsense. I slipped the charm over my head and felt oddly relieved to have it back.
“I had rather hoped,” King Leopold was saying, “that our honeymoon would be a secluded affair.”
Princess Annalise planted a kiss on the king’s nose. “Darling,” she said, “your vessel could accommodate the royal orchestra and half of Parliament, and we’d still have all the privacy in the world. But we should bring musicians, dancers, actors aboard. It’s a month at sea. Won’t you want some amusement in the evenings?”
He kissed Annalise’s forehead. “You’re all the amusement I plan to need.”
“Darling!” Annalise cried in a shocked voice. “Consider Marie, if you please.”
“Oh, don’t mind me,” I said.
A carriage is far too small a space in which to be confined with two lovebirds. I didn’t know how they even had the energy to carry on. The clock had read two o’clock in the morning as we left the duchess’s home. I doubted I’d ever been up so late before. I could settle down to sleep for the night right in the carriage …
The next thing I remembered was Annalise waking me up and dragging me across the courtyard and into the castle. I stumbled up the flight of steps and followed her to her room. I was dimly aware of the king lingering to kiss Annalise goodnight, but my main intent was to crawl into the bed she’d laid out for me on a couch near her fire. Dorothy, the serving girl, was already asleep in the other couch, playing chaperone to the unmarried princess. I kicked off my shoes and lay down, dress, jewels, corset, powder, and all. I let my leviathan loose from his pouch, and he curled himself up in a nest of hair right next to my ear, but out of sight if Dorothy should wake. Together, we went to sleep.
It was still dark when Annalise woke me. The fire had burned out, and the air in her chambers was cold.
“Evelyn!” She shook my shoulder. “Evelyn, it’s time to get up.”
At first I didn’t know where I was, or why. I turned onto my side and moaned. “Why? It’s still dark. And it’s cold. What do we need to get up for?”
“Shh.” She pointed across the room. “Don’t wake Dorothy. Put this on.”
She handed me some sort of clothing.
“Let me help you out of your things,” she said, and I turned so she could unbutton my gown and untie my corset.
“What are we doing?” I asked.
“We’re going for a swim,” she said. “It’s time for your initiation.”
When I was finally released from my oppressive clothing, Annalise disappeared behind her partition, leaving me too astonished to do anything but comply and put on the new things. There were two pieces of clothing. One was silky and thin, made of a smooth knit fabric, pale in color, though what color, I couldn’t quite tell. It had straps for my shoulders, and it ended in two leg openings instead of a skirt. It was so loose and slippery-smooth that it slid over my skin, which felt delicious. After the hellish corset, my flesh was now in heaven. The second piece was a rough coat or cloak with sleeves and a hood, and a deep pocket in front for warming one’s hands. It reminded me of the humble clothing worn by friars and novitiate priests, who sometimes visited Maundley’s parish church.
There was a pair of clogs for me at the foot of the sofa, and I slipped them on. “No stockings,” she whispered from across the room, so I obliged and removed my garters and hose. I tucked my sleepy leviathan into my pocket.
When I was ready, she snuffed her candle and tiptoed to the door. She opened it slowly and peered down the hall, first left, then right, then, tugging at my sleeve, she beckoned for me to follow. She was dressed like I was. Her raven hair hung loose down her back.
“I can’t swim, you know,” I whispered.
“Yes, you can.”
There was no use arguing. I followed on, holding a corner of her sleeve to stay in step with her. Our leather-clad feet made scarcely any sound on the stone floors. A single lamp lit the stairwell, thank goodness, but the light couldn’t even reach the far walls, making the grand entryway feel like an endless cave. Instead of leading me to the doors, Annalise turned to the right and made her way down the long hall leading to the kitchens. Here it was less quiet, fragrant with woodsmoke and the scent of baking bread. Annalise pulled me aside into a root cellar that smelled of earth and potatoes. A narrow door led outside. It creaked as she opened it.
Moonlight made the castle’s kitchen gardens feel magical. Annalise hurried toward the park, where perfect rows of tall, majestic trees still clung to their autumn leaves. We kept close to the trees instead of cutting across the open expanse of lawn, lest someone see us.
&n
bsp; Breezes off the water blew right through my cloak and made my skin prickle.
Ocean, Mistress, my leviathan sang. I smell the ocean!
At least he was glad for this excursion.
We reached the headlands. Annalise’s head disappeared from view as she clambered down the rugged slope that led to the water. I ventured much more cautiously. It was a long stretch of rocky, scrubby bracken between the slope and the stretch of smooth sand.
And there it was. The ocean, once again. All my resistance faded as I watched the waves, crested with moonlight, reach toward the sand, then pull away again.
Annalise pulled Bijou from her pocket and kissed his horned head, then flung him far out over the water. I feared he’d be injured. But he twisted in midair, growing larger, finally entering the waves in a graceful dive, and resurfacing a huge, shining, amber gold leviathan.
My leviathan wriggled inside my pocket. I pulled him out and made ready to toss him in.
“Kiss him first,” Annalise instructed.
I hesitated, then kissed his head behind his horns. He nuzzled me in reply. The tip of his tail quivered. I flung him out over the sea. I meant to toss him gently, but he flew from my hand like a cannonball, writhing and expanding as he sailed. He dove into the water, reared up, leaped out and in again, growing each time, and began cavorting with Bijou.
Annalise kicked off her shoes and unbuttoned her cloak, letting it slip and fall off her body. The wind tossed her hair over her shoulders where it fluttered like a living thing. Her eyes shone in the moonlight as she reached for both my hands.
“Welcome to your home, Evelyn Pomeroy,” she said. “The ocean belongs to you. You are a queen here. Come and see.”
Chapter 30
There was nothing else in the world then but the roar of the ocean, the limitless stretch of dark beach, and Annalise standing before me, no longer a society princess but a wild creature, her hair afloat, her skin washed silver in the moonlight. The wind ruffled her garment, and it seemed to swim over her body. The wind swept over me, too, but I was no longer cold.