by Chanda Hahn
“I can play the pianoforte,” Melisandre spoke up.
I kept my head low and tried to not let guilt eat away at me, while I tried to conjure enough spit in my mouth to swallow my own pride and the fig.
When I cast a glance up toward Evander, I was startled to meet his gaze. Was he watching me?
A light soup course was brought out, and I turned to thank the server who handed me my soup.
“Tha—” My thanks died on my lips as Dorian brushed against my shoulder. Was he still vetting girls by being a servant now? He paused and looked at me with confusion when I stopped midword and waited for him to recognize me and yell at me for being out of my room. His only reaction was a widening of his eyes, and he pressed his lips together in displeasure for a split second before a stony mask slid over his features.
“Do you need something, miss?” he asked, speaking between clenched teeth. He was angry.
“Nope. No. Uh-uh,” I said quickly, waving him off and picking up my spoon to dig in and take a sip.
He tried to warn me. “Careful, it’s ho—”
“Hot!” I said over a mouthful of burning liquid that was scalding my tongue.
Dorian was already ahead of me and handed me my glass. I quickly took a sip to ease the molten-hot lava that was burning my mouth. Unfortunately, my burning mouth escapade did not go unnoticed by the masses. Adelle looked smug, Melisandre shook her head in disapproval, Nessa snickered, and only Harmony looked upon me with sympathy and took a huge spoonful as well.
Waving her hands, she grasped for a drink. “You’re right. It is hot!”
Harmony, miss perfect Harmony, had done something just as stupid to help keep the pressure off of me. She gave me a wink as she guzzled down her drink.
Dorian reappeared with a jar of honey and two spoons. “Here, if you suck on a spoonful of honey, it will ease the burn in your mouth, but not your other burns,” he tossed out.
“Why, thank you. I will.” Harmony took a large spoonful and then followed it by closing her eyes and making a moaning sound.
My hands were shaking, and I was scared of dripping honey across my dress.
Dorian leaned down and whispered into my ear, “Would you like me to put a spoonful in your mouth?” His husky voice suggested so much more. It seemed he had gotten over his anger and decided instead to punish me in a different way.
Terrified, I snatched the spoon out of the jar and jammed it into my mouth. I made no noise and instead turned to glare at Dorian, while the spoon was still hanging between my lips.
Hopefully, no one else heard the deep husky laugh or his parting whisper of “Too bad.” But he didn’t leave. Dorian stood along the back wall—watching, waiting to refill drinks, and taking away plates as servants brought out each course.
Somehow, of the five servants in attendance that were rotating around the table, Dorian always made sure he was at my elbow, carefully, taking longer than necessary to remove my dish or fill my glass. He would cast me a look, and I would quickly look away. I hated this new form of punishment he was doling out for me escaping. He shouldn’t be surprised.
Others began to notice how much attention the male servant gave me, or maybe they just noticed how truly attractive he was. His uniform was tight across his shoulders, his body tall and lithe, and he stood a good six inches over the other servants. I had to deal with his nearness, his light touch, and his scent. The mix of spices and earth played havoc on my senses.
When dinner came, I kept my hands in my lap and refused to look his way as he placed the plate in front of me. “Just for you. It is wild pheasant in mushroom and wine sauce.”
“Thank you,” I said stiffly, frustrated that he was endeavoring to tell me exactly what each course was. Yes, all of the servants were doing it, but for some reason, Dorian doing it irritated me.
Everyone began to eat, yet I couldn’t. My hands were shaking from nervousness and frustration at his closeness.
When I didn’t eat, he stepped forward and leaned down over my shoulder, his mouth inches from my ear. “Is the pheasant not to your liking? Would you perhaps like something else? Perhaps something sweeter? I would be more than happy to accommodate you in any way you ask.” His lips touched my earlobe, and my body jerked, my knee banging into the table. My pulse raced, and my cheeks were flushed from heat or embarrassment. I wasn’t sure.
But I didn’t enjoy what he was doing to me—the teasing, the hinting, the playing with my emotions. He leaned back down and whispered again. “Is something wrong?”
“Go away,” I snapped. “Leave me alone. Go pester someone else.”
“Is something wrong?” Prince Evander asked me, and I looked up at Dorian as my answer.
The two men exchanged a long look, and I could see Evander’s displeasure. I was surprised when Dorian quickly backed away from me. “No, there’s nothing wrong, Your Highness,” he answered, keeping his head down.
He switched positions with another servant on the other side of the room and was now in my direct line of sight, which was even worse, for he was serving Adelle and Sela. Both seemed pleased by his attentiveness. I watched as Dorian, a true master of seduction, met his match in Adelle. When Dorian would whisper in her ear, she would ever so carefully lean in to him, so her shoulder would brush against him, and his lips brush her cheek. She didn’t jump or shy away. Her hand would reach up and lay gently across his sleeve a little longer than necessary.
Dorian didn’t shy away, his charm going into overdrive. Stoic and pristine Sela had come undone at Dorian’s attention. She fluttered her eyes at him, giggled uncontrollably, and played with her hair. My stomach was in knots while watching all of this transpire in front of me like a dramatic play. Could no one see what was happening?
Harmony elbowed me, and I looked over at her in confusion.
“What?” I whispered, and her eyebrows were raised and she tilted her head to the prince who was looking at me expectantly. Did he ask me a question?
Oh, he must have, and I was completely zoned out and distracted by Dorian that I had missed the question.
“Have you ever traveled?” Harmony whispered to me under the cover of wiping her mouth with a napkin.
“Oh, uh, yes.” I wrung my hands on my napkin. “I’ve recently been to Florin.”
“Really.” Evander sounded amazed. “With all of the political upheaval that they just had. King Basil murdered by the daughter of Eville, who overthrew his advisor to help Baist take the throne.”
“That’s not true,” I corrected. Harmony’s fork slipped from her fingers to clatter on the plate. Had I just corrected the crown prince in front of everyone? Yes, I had, but I needed to set the record straight. “Princess Rosalie was the long-lost daughter of King Basil and rightful heir to the throne of Florin. She did not overthrow anyone. By the time I arrived, King Basil was already dead, murdered by his chief advisor. If the prince and princess had not stopped the advisor, he would have invaded Baist and then Candor.”
The room was silent. No one breathed; no one blinked.
“Why were you there during this civil upheaval?” Evander asked suspiciously.
“I had gone searching for my sister. I had been given word that she needed my help, and when family needs you, you go, no questions asked.”
“And did you find your sister?” Harmony asked, her face filled with worry.
“Yes, she was being held against her will.” I looked right at Dorian, pinning him with my gaze. Challenging him. Taunting him. “By a very evil person.” I decided to leave out most of the details, especially that she was the princess. Better stick to the point. “But she is safe now.”
“Oh, good.” Harmony let out a relieved sigh.
“I heard that Prince Xander’s wife has disappeared,” Adelle spoke up. “That she is gone and the throne lies empty, for even Prince Aspen is missing. Some think she killed him as well.”
“He’s not missing,” I said.
“Where is he then?” Evander demanded.
“How can you know when half the kingdoms don’t know.”
Evander and Dorian had me pinned with their gazes, and there was no lying.
“When Prince Xander invaded with his army. Prince Aspen escaped on a ship. He headed out to sea. Where he went, I do not know.” Even as I said it, it sounded fabricated. Made up.
Evander was rubbing his face and casting dark glances to Dorian. A silent exchange took place between them, and I began to worry. Had I just put my family in jeopardy.
An unnatural silence followed, and Evander cleared his throat and made an announcement. “For our amusement tonight, we have brought the highly sought-after and world-renowned Magical Menagerie and Entertainment Troupe.”
Squeals of joy filled the dining room, and I felt the tension in the air lift.
Nessa clanged her glass against her plate, and Tess paled as she shrank in her chair. It seemed that neither girl was thrilled about tonight’s activity.
I had heard many tales about the Magical Menagerie Troupe and wonder of their shows. They spent their lives on the road traveling, only visiting a kingdom once every seven years.
For the troupe to be at the palace for a private show was a special treat indeed. The table was cleared, and the room emptied in record time as the girls gathered around Prince Evander. Ever since our discussion, I hadn’t caught the prince looking my way, and I began to feel ostracized.
I didn’t show it but kept my head up high as I followed the group down the hall, out the main doors, and past the stables to the soldiers’ field. A collection of colorful tents in red, purple, and gold stripes were set up around the ground, each one with signs displaying what was within their canvas shells. Controlled bonfires burned along the paths, and performers were already out and about performing. Women in silk dresses and bells danced with swords to the music played on crumhorns, dulcimers, and fiddles.
A male troupe member was rolling around the grass in a circular metal cage, and within the cage with him were balls of fire racing around the perimeter. He ran up the side of the cage, and the flaming trap rolled toward us.
Sela screamed and dodged out of the way. The troupe member jumped up and grabbed the top of the cage, his fingers sliding through the metal bars. He swung to the left, changing the momentum. The flaming ball rolled right past our group.
“He almost killed me!” Sela cried out and grasped onto Prince Evander’s arm.
“He wouldn’t have hit you,” Nessa snapped. “He’s been doing that trick for years.” Tess elbowed Nessa hard. Nessa quickly added, “I mean, he probably has.”
The ladies walked in groups of two and three as we meandered through the tents, each only big enough to fit one or two people—except for the sisters. Neither girl entered a tent, and they both kept their heads down, refusing to meet anyone’s eye.
Melisandre inched her way closer to the prince and grabbed his hand. “Look, a fortune teller. Let’s have our fortune read.” Too much of a gentleman to say no, they both disappeared into the Mystic Madam De Le Cour’s tent.
A few seconds later, we heard a scream and Melisandre ran out of the tent in outrage. “An ogre. I refuse to give my money to an ogre.” Evander exited a few seconds after.
Many of the fae creatures were still fighting for equality among the kingdoms. Most of the rich could turn a blind eye to the subservient fae creatures. As long as they were shining shoes, mending dresses, cooking or cleaning, it was fine. Because their status was lower than the lowest servant, only a step up from the feral fae in the wild.
All kingdoms except for Rya, Isla, and Kiln struggled with accepting the fae as equal, and in Baist, fae avoided the kingdom all together.
No one dared to approach the tent, and in a moment of anger, I grabbed my skirts and stormed over to the tent. After turning around to make sure everyone was watching, I went in alone.
I could understand Melisandre’s fear. For though the tent was large, the ogress took up most of the space. From her ears dangled multiple gold hoops. Her pale green face had been adorned with makeup to make her appear more human, but it only made her look outlandish. She sat on the ground on a colorful cushion, and gold stars were strung about the tent. Her hair was adorned with colored moss and beads braided into the long, thick strands.
Great pointy teeth shot up from her underbite, and I had to ball my fingers to keep myself from running away. There was barely room to stand up or fit two people within the tent, but I stood in front of the ogress.
“Greetings, Madam De Le Cour,” I said, remembering her name from the banner.
“Greetings, daughter of Eville,” her voice rumbled in reply.
Chapter Fifteen
I stilled, my hand going to my throat as I waited to see if she made a move toward me. Her black eyes studied me beneath her protruding forehead, and she waved me to sit.
“Sit, child. Your secret is safe with me. I am Ogress De La Cour.”
The canvas tent opened up, and Prince Evander entered. “I’m very sorry about Melisandre Fernglass. That was very rude of her.”
“Bah! Sit. It is fine. She wouldn’t have liked her fortune anyway. She wanted to know if you would marry her, and it is obvious that you won’t.”
Evander coughed gently and sat down on the cushion next to me. The space was so small that his knees brushed against my curled-up legs.
“Payment first.” Her plump hand reached out to us, and I fingered the small silver ring with a blue stone that I wore on my right hand. It was a gift that was given to me by my birth parents—or that was what Mother Eville said. The ring served as a reminder to me that I didn’t belong to Lorelai and that my parents didn’t want me.
But I didn’t bring any money. Who would have thought I needed it? And I dare not glamour anything into coin in front of the prince.
I dropped the ring into her palm. When her fingers curled around the token, I felt a sense of freedom.
“No, madam, I will take care of the payment.” Evander held out three gold coins that were worth far more than my ring. “You can return Eden’s ring.”
Ogress laughed. “Why would I? What she has given me is far more valuable than your coins. For this was a sacrifice, wasn’t it, child?”
“Yes.”
“No, keep your money, prince. It has no value here.”
Evander leaned close to me and whispered, “Don’t worry. I can replace your ring.”
“Do you think any ring can replace that which was given by a loved one?” Ogress laughed.
The fortune teller’s comments were hitting too close to home. She knew more about me than I did, and I was quickly becoming uncomfortable. What if she knew about my past? What if she knew my parents? Would she reveal my heritage to the prince and would I be cast out or imprisoned?
All the unanswered questions began to worry me, and I felt light-headed.
“What would you like to know?” she asked me.
“Nothing,” I whispered and stood up to leave.
“Eden.” Evander reached out and gently took my hand. “It’s okay if you want to ask about your future.”
“No, I… I don’t want to know. I don’t even know what to ask.”
“They loved you dearly,” Ogress said softly.
“What? But I didn’t even ask anything yet.” I tried to keep my tears in check and my hands from trembling.
“I’m a seer. I know the question you will ask before you even ask. But the answer to your question is, yes, they loved you very much. But it was because they saw your future and loved you that they chose to do what they did. It was the only path.”
“How could they possibly know my future?”
“Because, dear child, it was in this very tent that your future was foretold.”
“When? Where?” I demanded angrily, not caring that I was not being ladylike.
“Here, I say over twenty-one years ago.” She smiled cryptically.
I wanted to scream, cry, and vent my rage, let the anger out and destroy all of the Magic
al Menagerie tents, and I almost did. I could feel myself losing control, feel my glamour begin to lessen and flicker. Then Evander’s hand rested on the small of my back. “It will be fine. We should go,” he whispered into my ear. “Now, she is just toying with you.” But he sounded angry.
“Every seven years,” I muttered to myself out loud. “They only come to a kingdom once every seven years. Twenty-one years ago.”
The ogress’s laugh followed me out into the night.
“Are you okay?” Evander asked, his hand still on the small of my back. Most of the other women were still in the vicinity, trying to listen in on what had transpired in the tent and watching Evander’s body language like a hawk.
The slight pressure and heat of his hand seared through the fabric of my dress, and I became extremely aware of his nearness and the fact that he wasn’t moving away. I could almost feel the hate radiating from the other girls.
Spurred on by my show of bravery, Helia stepped forward. “My turn next.” She spun to Prince Evander. “Are you going to join me and protect me from the ogre? Who knows, I may faint?”
“Who is going to protect the ogress from you?” I mumbled under my breath. Which I thought I whispered so no one heard, but Evander snorted. Apparently, he had.
He stepped away from me and bowed, his arm directing to the tent. “After you.”
“I know just what I’m going to ask,” she said confidently, giving him a sly wink.
When the tent flap closed, I was surprised that I couldn’t hear the ogress’s deep voice through the fabric. There must be a spell of some kind.
Now, curious for magic purposes, I stepped to the side of the tent and looked closer at the fabric. Layered within the stripes were thin strands of silver thread. I could see the magic weaved into the thread and followed it with my fingertip. Someone had weaved a silencing spell into the very fabric of the tent. Each side of the tent had multiple spells woven within the canvas. Silencing spell, seeing spell, scrying spell, and foresight—all of them used to augment the person within the tent.
Then I understood. It wasn’t that the ogre had the power to see the future. It was the tent, and whoever resided within the tent was blessed with the magic and powers.