The High Lord (Legends of Trianon: Starla Book 2)

by J. A. Comley

  The only furniture in the courtyard was four enormous, solid-gold thrones sitting on a slightly raised platform. Starla knew from Naleiya's instructions that everyone ate and drank from platters that were carried around by servants, except for the most important members. For them, a table and chairs would be brought onto the raised platform for the elite of Galatia to sit down and eat. The elite. A group that she was now part of, however tenuously. Starla swallowed a lump in her throat. Fighting the sudden nerves, Starla moved her eyes away from the dais to the stairs.

  The Grand Stair swept up from the golden floor, splitting in two halfway up, one side to connect with the women's plateau, the other, to the men's. At the top of each stairway, a scribe stood ready with a guest list to send the guests down in the right order to the page waiting where the stairs met ready to announce them. Starla blinked in surprise.

  “It's the same boy. The page, I mean,” she said, wondering if the court only had one. It seemed ridiculous.

  “Might not be,” Zerina said, pointing discreetly at another page moving between the women to see who was here, trying to get their order correct. Then she turned again and pointed at yet another identical boy racing across the courtyard.

  “Triplets.” Starla watched as the boy disappeared through a side door into the palace. They were exact copies of one another.

  “Quintuplets,” the High Queen grinned. “There'll be another two with the men.”

  Starla laughed, looking over at the men's section. She spotted the page boy at the same time she saw Larkel. He seemed to be placating a rather angry-looking Makhi, with wiry black hair and a fuzzy moustache.

  A firm shove sent Starla sprawling into the other guests.

  “Out of my way, human,” commanded a shrill voice just as a pair of silver-sandalled feet stepped over Starla.

  Eltara and Naleiya were at her side a moment later, helping Starla to her feet.

  “Don't mind Vinaria,” Naleiya whispered, her tone harsh as she watched the stick-thin woman walk to the gold fence, “she's the Baron's fiancée.”

  Starla looked past the lady's wine-red dress and mud-brown stare into the cold, grey eyes of the Baron.

  Behind him, Larkel was watching her, the commotion having drawn his attention. Starla looked away quickly, not wanting him to see the tears burning her eyes.

  “Come, it is nearly our turn. The King will be here soon,” Eltara said, throwing Vinaria and the Baron a dirty look.

  Zerina was in conversation with the scribe as they joined her. The High Queen's sharp, amber eyes took in the unshed tears in Starla's eyes and the angry looks on the others' faces. Then she smiled mischievously. “Not to worry, Starla. You will get your own back in a minute.”

  Starla looked up, bewildered. When had she ever got her own back on those who humiliated her? Besides, she was a better person than that.

  Seeing Starla's expression, Zerina laughed. “Not anything so petty. It is simple. As the High Lord's companion, you rank higher than she does. It'll rankle her worse than anything else.” She winked.

  Starla felt her own smile spreading across her face. Zerina was right. She wasn't a lowly orphan girl here.

  “Here we go,” Naleiya said in Starla's ear as a fanfare cut through the chattering.

  Starla watched as the King swept into the room from one of the side doors. The Imperial Guards around the courtyard all dropped to one knee, hands to hearts, heads bowed, their other hands holding their swords in the air.

  The monarch stepped up to the dais, his cloak of spun gold glittering as it swirled out behind him. His own clothes were of pristine white further embroidered with gold. He faced the plateaus, nodded to his guests as they bowed, then sat. A servant rushed forward with a golden goblet bedecked in jewels, deftly making sure the black wine it contained didn't spill in his hurry.

  “See you down there,” Zerina said, drawing herself up regally.

  Starla could now see the servants waiting in the wings with the chairs for the higher nobility to sit upon the King's dais. Each guest would be announced, then they would descend the stairs and bow before their King, where he would welcome them, formally inviting them to join in his feast.

  As Zerina moved down the stairs with feline grace, Starla spotted movement on the men's stair. Crown Prince Niden stepped forwards, the thread of gold in his clothes sparkling in the lights, his blue eyes glinting mischievously as he gave her group a subtle nod. Even though she knew she hadn't seen him before coming to Galatia, Starla still felt like there was a faint familiarity in his features, like she would be able to remember where she knew him from if she were given enough time. Yet nothing in her own time with him, or even from Larkel’s memories had helped her discover the source of the nagging.

  As the royal pair reached the flat where the two staircases became one, the page there cleared his throat.

  “Crown Prince Niden Hypaeon of Galatia and his fiancée, High Queen Zerina Lutimo of Cosmaltia,” the page announced in a voice that somehow carried loudly across the entire courtyard.

  With a pang, Starla remembered Larkel's words. Neither had been meant to rule, yet with both her parents dead, along with all her siblings, Zerina had been hailed as High Queen by her people. With their home likely permanently destroyed, she would still honour the marriage treaty that would see her royal line ended as it merged with Galatia's.

  But at least they truly love each other.

  “Deep breath. Your up,” Naleiya said, smiling and giving Starla a small nudge towards the stairs.

  Taking a deep breath, Starla began her descent, still awed that she ranked second, behind only the ruling family.

  Starla looked down to the courtyard and saw that Crown Prince Niden and High Queen Zerina had already taken their places on the thrones to the King's right. The one on his left remained empty: the throne of the Queen of Galatia. Starla felt her heart sink as she remembered why. She felt a stab of deep sympathy for the old ruler. How hard must it be to continue normally when the person you loved was missing, perhaps even dead? She knew the story for tonight was that the Queen had used much of her energy in training and needed rest.

  Halfway to the page, Starla looked over to the men's stair and felt her pulse quicken. Larkel descended the stairs at a measured pace, taking her in even as she did the same.

  He wore a white robe, as the law decreed, but this one was made of a richer, smoother fabric that allowed tantalizing hints at the sculpted body beneath. Starla felt her body respond, a rush of heat flooding through her veins. The dark-blue embroidery along his robe now held hints of silver here and there. Upon his dark hair sat his silver circlet of office, and his black boots shone. Flaring out behind him was a midnight-blue cloak, an exact match for Starla's dress.

  Starla stepped up to the powerful man that was hers. He wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her up to kiss her longingly, ignoring the page boy's wide eyes.

  “You look beautiful,” he whispered in her ear before turning and nodding to the now red-cheeked page boy.

  Starla was also blushing, but she felt no shame. As the mental bond opened, she knew his longing matched hers.

  “The High Lord, Larkel Dios of the Makhi Order of Trianon, and his companion, Miss Starla of Earth,” the page announced in his magnified voice.

  The crystal on his lapel, the High Lord sent, answering Starla's curiosity about how his voice was made audible to the entire audience. It is Makhi-crafted and will amplify the voice of its wearer.

  They descended the final sweep of stairs arm-in-arm. The high-heeled shoes that Starla had spent hours practising to walk in this afternoon clipped out a soft rhythm on the gold, stone floor.

  Upon reaching the dais to stand before the King, Starla felt her nerves reappear. Larkel squeezed her hand reassuringly then bowed deeply from the waist. Starla gave a slightly lower bow and waited, as she had been taught.

  “Rise, friends,” the King's kind voice intoned. He smiled politely. “Welcome. Please enjoy the Trim
oon Festival.”

  “Thank you, Your Majesty,” they said in unison. Then they ascended the dais to the seats that had been placed beside the thrones to the right.

  “Renowned alchemist, Duke Markis of Earth, and his wife, Duchess Shaneulia of Earth,” the page announced, his voice rising in pitch, twice. “And their children, Lady Eltara and Lord Eben.”

  Starla watched her friends descend. Halfway down, the page's voice announced the next set.

  “Baron Braxton Malion of Galatia, and his fiancée, the Lady Vinaria Yueld,” the page announced.

  Starla stiffened in her chair as Larkel stroked her hand, then kissed her cheek, trailing his lips along her jawbone to her ear.

  “Good evening,” came Niden's amused voice. “If I'm not interrupting—”

  Starla's eyes snapped up to the Prince. “Good evening, Your Grace,” she mumbled, inclining her head, her cheeks heating.

  The Prince nodded back solemnly, although he appeared to be containing a fit of laughter, which only worsened as Eben took the seat to Starla's left, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

  “Good evening, Crown Prince Niden, Lord Eben,” Larkel said, with a note of warning for his friends to contain their more mischievous side.

  Eben's smile broadened, his bright honey eyes glinting with mischief.

  Zerina pulled Niden up short, looking at him meaningfully as the Baron and his fiancée reached the dais. All mischief left the Prince's face and manner as he nodded politely, recalling himself to his duties.

  “Thank you, my king,” the Baron's gravelly voice said to the King's welcome, setting Starla's nerves on edge. Her complaint against him, for his attack before her trial, had mysteriously gone missing, though Larkel was determined to track it down.

  He led his fiancée over to the chairs on the opposite side of the dais. Starla felt his cold gaze on her as she chatted softly to Eben.

  “Earl Deled Fosten, and his wife, the Lady Yilia Fosten,” the page announced.

  Starla risked a glance up and recognised the tall woman with hair the colour of pitch as one of the Baron's friends.

  “This is going to be a long meal,” Markis whispered to Starla and Larkel as another couple was announced. “But don't worry, young Starla, we will keep them occupied until the dancing begins.”

  Soon, the Earl and his wife had joined the Baron, too. Starla tried hard to ignore the stares as the page announced the last of her group.

  “The High Commander Medara D'Ordeley of the Imperial Army, and her wife, Makhi Naleiya D'Ordeley of the Makhi Order of Trianon.”

  After Naleiya and the Medara joined the party on the dais, a steady stream of nobles was announced and descended to bow to their King.

  Slowly, servants started to appear out of the side doors bearing trays of drinks. They would soon be followed by the trays of food.

  As the table on the dais was laid, Starla looked up at the King. He was watching her intently, as if trying to answer some important question. As she met his kind, brown eyes, he smiled that smile from the hearing, the one that crinkled his eyes and nagged at some memory. His eyes seemed to hold a wealth of wisdom, like Father Joe's, only in the case of King Eldos, it was wisdom gained across millennia, not mere decades.

  At her thought of him, all the nightmares she had been having of Father Joe and the others flashed through her mind.

  “Are you all right, my love?” Larkel whispered. He had taken her hand as they waited for the chairs to be rearranged, and although the images had passed through her mind too fast to make sense, the feelings of terror and pain lingered.

  Starla simply nodded as they took their seats, the servants coming around with food-laden platters.

  They’re just nightmares. She could feel Larkel’s worry but was glad that he did not pursue it here.

  I will tell you later.

  “Tell me, Starla,” Vinaria's shrill voice called from across the table, “do humans know how to eat with these, or do you just use your hands like the savages of the Cosmaltian Fire Mountains used to?” She kept her tone all innocence.

  Starla felt her face heat as the chagrin rose. Next to the Prince, High Queen Zerina's eyes narrowed into slits, their molten-amber depths turning solid, a clear message of warning.

  “Of course, Lady Vinaria,” Markis interjected just as innocently. “However, if you are having trouble, we could always teach you.” His blue eyes glinted like icicles.

  Vinaria looked to the Baron for support, but he was staring past Starla, lost in some memory, his lips twisted into a grimace.

  The King frowned at the exchange but said nothing to either party. Instead, he turned to Starla.

  “Tell me of your home, Miss Starla,” he commanded, putting an end to any further unpleasantness.

  “Yes, my King.” Starla bowed her head and began, feeling no longing for the people and places she described. She felt a small pang of sadness at that realisation, but it was greatly overshadowed by the joy at all she had gained in return.

  Across from her, the Baron came back to himself. His grey eyes flickered to the High Lord and a small, malicious smile curved his mouth.

  10

  Decisions

  Between Eben, Niden, Naleiya and Medara, the Baron and his friends had no opportunity to harass Starla with any more pointed questions. Even Eltara had come to Starla’s defence, her tongue sharper than anyone else’s. Starla was left free to answer the King and then listen with rapt attention to the Prince as he happily described his childhood, flitting between Cosmaltia and Galatia a lot as part of the arrangement between his grandfather, King Eldos, and Zerina's father, the late High King Haseri.

  Larkel smiled at his friend over Starla's head as they both laughed at a joke of Zerina's. They were like two rays of sunshine, he thought, oblivious to the dark cloud of war. Just like Prince Niden, Starla seemed to never lose her hope completely. They would always fight, always believe.

  Just then, the music started and, before Larkel could ask, the Prince had extended his hand to Starla.

  “Will you open the ball with me?” he asked, his grin indicating that he already knew the answer.

  Larkel watched her eyes tighten and could feel her nervousness across the bond.

  Starla took the Prince's hand and bowed then let him lead her onto the dance floor. After an immeasurable pause dancing alone, other couples joined them on the dance floor and time seemed to begin again.

  “How have you liked your time in the Royal City?” Niden asked as they twirled around the dance floor. “By all accounts, you've barely spent more than a day to yourself, helping at the refugee camp and the Healing Ward. My grandfather is impressed.”

  “What?” Starla’s surprise nearly shattered her carefully counted steps, her eyes darting to the King.

  She had been pleased to realise that the steps to the Galatian dances were not so very different from the ones she had learned back on Earth, but in the case of this opening dance, there wasn’t much room for error.

  Niden chuckled then sobered. “On behalf of King Eldos, I offer our thanks for your selfless dedication to our people during this time of war.”

  “You are most welcome, Your Grace,” she said, smiling up at him, a soft blush coming to her cheeks. “It is a stunning city, and I am liking it immensely.” Again that feeling of familiarity, but Starla couldn't quite bring the memory forward. She would ask Larkel about it later. Perhaps some memory of his hadn’t settled well in her mind.

  “No need to be so formal,” he winked. “We’re friends, aren’t we? I thought you and I had gone beyond this stiffness at the healing ward.”

  Starla narrowed her eyes. “You started it.”

  Niden grinned.“True. And yes, the Glasioders outdid themselves here. Though it’s still not as amazing as the old Citadel on Cosmaltia. Did you know that all Glasioders are from Cosmaltia?”

  Starla's eyebrows rose. “No.” Then a thought occurred to her. “But, then, does that mean that all the glass-spun building
s here are the creations of recent immigrants?”

  “No, the Glasioders have been in hot demand for thousands of years. There has been a small fraternity of them living here in Galatia since the beginning of the Silver Alliance, eighteen hundred years ago. And their work has only ever improved. This city used to be called the Red City, but it fell to the sea during the Breaking. The Royal City is relatively recent, and its architecture reflects that.”

  Starla chuckled at the borrowed pride in his voice.

  “Shouldn’t you be opening the ball with Zerina?” Starla asked, the realisation occurring to her belatedly.

  Niden’s face fell, the happiness that set his eyes sparkling fading into shadows.

  “She will not dance. Cosmaltia fell much quicker than Galatia. Tonight marks the anniversary of Cosmaltia’s fall to Kyron and the beginning of her enforced exile from her home. Trimoon holds much darker memories for her, now.”

  Starla let her eyes pass briefly over the High Queen of Cosmaltia, sadness dimming them just as it had Niden’s.

  He stepped back as the song ended. Starla bowed, wishing she could take back her question so that their dance could have ended in smiles and laughter instead.

  She watched the Crown Prince return to his throne and take Zerina’s hand. Then Larkel caught her eye, coming towards her. Her smile at the thought of being in his arms turned into a stifled chuckle as Eben closed the gap quicker.

  She watched Larkel get side-stepped by Eben, and then Eben was bowing his head, hand extended to Starla as the song began.

  Starla rolled her eyes at him, but just like with Pierre, she couldn't help but join in the game.

  “You'd better be careful how far you push him,” Naleiya mused as she and Medara swept by them.