by Buck, Alicia
“Why did you submit to the enchantment lacing?” the king asked Rafan.
A horrible haunted look stole over Rafan’s face. The voice I had only ever heard before as cockily confident trembled as he explained how Kelteon’s agents had caught him when he’d been spying in the city. They’d tortured him until he agreed to submit to the enchantment lacing. “I held out against him for three days, but I broke,” he rasped and hung his head in shame.
I dropped to the sand next to him and put my hand on his shoulder. “You lasted much longer than I did. I caved with hardly a fight. Don’t torture yourself over someone else’s wickedness.” I spoke as much to myself as to him. He looked up at me, shame still spilling out of his eyes.
“I’m sorry for what I . . . what he made me do and say to you,” he said in a jumble.
“No problem. I know it wasn’t you. I’m not exactly sure who you are, but I’d be happy to find out,” I said with a half smile. I looked up at my father. “I think Doln Rafan has suffered enough already, don’t you . . . Dad?” I was unsure about calling the king “Dad.” But when the word emerged hesitantly from my lips, King Verone’s face transformed to a look of pleased surprise. I felt responding warmth grow in my chest.
“I think you are right, Mary. However, your explanation does make me worried. Kelteon has escaped. Is there any way he could regain control over you?” he asked.
“Never,” Rafan’s voice rasped vehemently. “I would rather die a thousand deaths than ever be possessed again, unable to even move my finger without Kelteon’s command. I would kill myself first.”
I vehemently agreed, but I was sure it would be awhile before Kelteon could even attempt such a thing.
Just then Breeohan appeared from around a tent corner. When he spotted Rafan and me on the ground, his face turned murderous. Breeohan’s sword slid free of its scabbard. “I trusted you. How could you ally yourself with Kelteon?” he yelled while advancing.
“Calm down, Breeohan. Rafan was just as powerless as I was,” I said. “He was tortured and put under the enchantment lacing.” I looked up to the king.
Breeohan’s sword drooped. He looked from me to Rafan to the king in confusion before sheathing the metal. I sighed in relief. Breeohan looked perplexed.
“I revoke my permission to Kelteon or anyone else to ever again control my will with the enchantment lacing. I vow death before submitting to such a vile and dangerous prison,” Rafan’s gravely voice rumbled feelingly.
“I am satisfied and am sorry for what you have suffered under Kelteon,” King Verone said formally. “He will not go unpunished for his crimes. You are free to go, Doln Rafan. You may travel back to the capitol with us if you wish.” The soldiers untied Rafan’s hands, and I helped him to his feet.
My father and the soldiers walked off to various packing tasks, but Breeohan stayed standing in an uncertain but defensive stance.
Rafan murmured, “I’m so sorry, Breeohan, for . . . for how miserable I made you. I hope you know I would never . . .”
Breeohan held up his hand, shoulders slumping. “It wasn’t you. I’m glad to know that my friend is still my friend in truth. We will bury that past and start anew.” He briefly placed his hand on Rafan’s shoulder, before turning away to help with the departure preparations.
As I watched him retreat, I realized that I’d been shamelessly watching a private moment. So I turned to go, embarrassed, but Rafan snagged my sleeve. He tried to meet my eyes but couldn’t hold mine for more than a second before he looked away, coloring. It was jarring to see so many foreign expressions on Rafan’s face, but also comforting, a confirmation that the man in front of me was not Kelteon.
“Thank you. The only me you ever saw was a womanizer, Princess,” he said with the same rough voice I’d known since meeting him, but with a humility never before present.
“Yeah, well,” I said, uncomfortable to recall my entrapment in Kelteon’s will. “Kelteon would have been pleased if you had been declared a traitor. Also, I remember . . .” I couldn’t finish my thought about how Kelteon’s mind invasion had made my skin crawl. “I had to endure his will for a much shorter time.” I shivered.
Rafan looked at me with haunted understanding. “Thank you, anyway,” he said passionately. Then he blushed and strode quickly away. I watched him for a minute and shrugged, as unsure about what to make of this new Rafan as I had been of the old.
Chapter 23
The trip back to Ismar was slow because of all the people traveling in our party and the fact that the king had us parade through every city and town we passed in a royal display. Sogran sent soldiers to continue the search for Kelteon, but no trace of either Kelteon or his spy, Sirus, was found. The training general’s men returned a few weeks later, frustrated by an unexpected blizzard in a high mountain’s track leading out of Iberloah. We could only hope that Kelteon had been killed in the snow or at least trapped outside the country.
The uneasiness I felt about Kelteon’s continued freedom was forced into a mild dissatisfied twitch at the back of my mind as Mom and I rode through the cities and towns seated in a cart, decked in brilliant-hued clothes, and waving like beauty queens in a parade. The king and Breeohan, also resplendently arrayed, rode horses ahead of us, and the training general trailed behind less conspicuously but always on the alert for danger.
Along the way, Mom and my father became reacquainted with each other and more than annoyingly gooey. I discovered that Mom had followed her nature and had never actually gotten around to getting a divorce from my dad, so they were actually still married. Despite that, they decided to get married all over again as soon as we reached the palace and to do it in the Iberloahan tradition, so that the people could feel secure. Villagers and townspeople alike cheered with an added frenzy that made me nervous after the news of Mom and Dad’s upcoming nuptials was declared.
Word of the princess and the king’s long lost wife burned through the kingdom like wildfire. By the time we reached the capital, the streets were packed with people tossing celebratory flowers onto the narrow lane between the crowds that was left open for us to pass through. The cobbled path was completely paved with petals. I wondered briefly where they had gotten so many flowers. People waved colorful strips of cloth as we passed and they all cheered like hard core celebrity fans.
When we got to the palace, servants descended in a whirl of action. I found that seamstresses had been working fulltime during our long return to prepare a glorious white dress ensemble for me, with gold and purple embroidery in curiously Celtic-like designs. The diagonal neckline slanted toward the side where jeweled buttons latched the bodice tightly. Large embroidered strips extended from the bodice, which made it easy to glimpse the white colorfully bejeweled pants underneath while still giving the outfit the feel of a dress.
As several women wove my hair into a heavy crown with swirling gold spirals and glittering amethysts and diamonds that perversely looked airy and delicate, I noticed Sentai at the fringe of the bustling workers. It was too noisy to speak, but I caught her eye and smiled and was gratified to see her smile and her eyes warm.
My makeup was painted on thickly in purple, gold, and white. I wasn’t allowed to move or look in a mirror until the “artist” was done. When I finally saw what she’d done, I wanted to groan, but I held it in and smiled instead, wishing for the wedding to be already over.
Hours later, when I was deemed “done” and the time was at hand, I was politely coughed to a room where Mom stood waiting, dressed in a light green outfit in the same style as mine, just as heavily embroidered and jeweled but with silver and light purple. Her blonde hair twisted through a silver headdress and her makeup was a whirling canvas of light green, silver, and periwinkle paint.
“Hey, I thought I was the bride,” Mom teased.
“I guess brides wear green here?” I responded uncertainly. We’d been coached in what to do for the ceremony, but I was still feeling a bit like a bird in a burrow.
The d
oors opened, and Mom was announced to the audience within the next room. She took a steadying breath and flashed me an excited schoolgirl smile before walking through the door. My announcement came next, and I followed close upon her heels into an enormous, circular room.
The audience, mostly of courtiers, sat on pillows in orderly lines from the furthest edge of the wall and continued inward. Only the path through which Mom and I walked, and an eight-foot-wide area in the middle were free of onlookers. In the center, four steps led up to a decorative table on which sat a gilded jeweled cup. King Verone stood next to the table, waiting for Mom. I stopped at the foot of the stairs but remained standing as Mom reached across the table and goblet to clasp my father’s hands.
The crowd waited in silence. A shaft of light from the noonday sun streamed through the window in the ceiling onto the circular dais, illuminating my dad and mom in brilliant golden light.
“I, King Verone of the line of Oderfarst, do this day pledge my life and more than my life to Fiona Adams Underwood,” my dad announced, looking joyous. “By the sun that shines faithfully on us, I swear to be loyal and true and will give my last drop of water to ensure her health and happiness.”
Mom beamed. “I, Fiona Adams Underwood, do this day pledge my life and more than my life to King Verone of the line of Oderfarst. By the sun that shines on us, I swear to be loyal and true and will give my last drop of water to ensure his health and happiness.”
Verone released one of Mom’s hands to grasp the cup. It flashed in the sun as he handed it to her. She took a sip of the water within. Gold reflected in the light again as she handed it back for him to sip. Next, each drew out a bracelet, which they slipped onto each other’s left wrists. A cheer went up as my dad and Mom clasped hands, raised them into the air and turned in a circle to view everyone. I found it ironic that an upper class society that spent hours donning complicated clothing and painting faces would have such a short royal marriage ceremony. The courtiers started to stand, but the king waved them back to their pillows and gestured to me. I climbed the stairs and jammed awkwardly between my parents.
“Though my wife and I have renewed our pledge today, it was really made nineteen years ago in a very far away land. I was called from her land to serve you without the option to bring her back with me, while my child grew in her womb. My daughter came to us under a different name, but she confessed to me her true origins as soon as possible. She herself did not realize what her story meant, but I knew and rejoiced. Today I present to you not only my wife, but my daughter and heir, Princess Mary Margaret Underwood of the line of Oderfarst.”
There was a charged silence, followed by a spattering of applause as the courtiers remembered themselves. I shivered, not having realized before that my father would announce me as the heir to the kingdom. What did Breeohan think of this? I searched the room and found him clapping nearby with a huge smile on his face as if he couldn’t be more thrilled.
“All may adjourn to the grand hall for dancing and refreshment,” my father said, seemingly oblivious to any discord his announcement may have caused. He and Mom looked around me into each other’s eyes, and I quickly decided to retreat from my unpleasant third wheel position.
I saw Breeohan looking up at me, smiling easily, and I aimed an interception course toward his comforting presence. It was harder to pick him out when I reached the ground, especially since a swarm of people surrounded him immediately, probably to ask him exactly what I wanted to ask, how he felt about being bumped out of the position of heir.
My walk toward Breeohan was interrupted by a soft hand on my shoulder. I turned to find Ismaha smiling at me, her eyes creased with kindness.
“I thought you didn’t travel anymore,” I blurted before thinking.
She laughed. “For this I made an exception. I knew after we spoke that you represented something extraordinary. I traveled slowly toward Ismar soon after you left, but it took me much longer than you to arrive.
“Thank you. Things could have been so much worse for me if not for you.” I gave her a firm squeeze. As we parted, my eyes caught sight of Breeohan.
She smiled. “Go celebrate. We will see each other soon.”
Only four steps closer to my goal and a sharp jab in my side knocked me sideways. I looked around to see who had struck.
Avana wore a blood red dress with black pants, her face artfully painted to accent her high cheek bones and full red lips. I’d forgotten how stunning she was in the weeks I’d been away, but it hit me anew now with a worried pang. I wondered how Breeohan could love me when he could have had someone so beautiful. Then she turned, as if noticing me for the first time. Her eyes narrowed in open contempt.
“Princess, what is it now, Mare? You have so many names, it’s quite confusing. But it’s so good to see you again, whoever you are,” she said carelessly while her eyes bored into mine, sending the clear message who she thought I was and that it wasn’t anything near a princess.
“Court was ever so boring after you went away. I heard that both Doln Rafan and Breeohan went to rescue you again.” She laughed, and a few courtiers close to us laughed nervously in response. “It’s unfair of you to play the maiden in distress so often and take away our desirable young men. Not all of us are so fortunate as to have the freedom to ignore what such a scramble would do to our reputation.”
A few more people tittered. My face grew hot with anger, but yelling or hitting Avana would convince people only that I was as crass as Avana suggested. Still, it was tempting. “I’m glad to hear you missed me, Zefa Avana. I was afraid you might be angry when my friends joined me on my journey and left you without so much as a good-bye. I guess you weren’t as close to Zefan Breeohan as you thought,” I drawled innocently with only the barest hint of sarcasm.
Avana’s eyes narrowed. “If it is true that the king knew you were his daughter from the beginning, he likely told the heir of his discovery. Breeohan’s sense of duty is such that he would have no choice but to trail you, despite his desire to stay. Did he have any warning that you were aiming for the position of heir, or did you snatch it from under him?” A few courtiers shuffled their feet nervously as if they wished to stay out of any trouble but couldn’t pull themselves away from a good show.
Avana and I were glaring at each other so intently that we both jumped when Breeohan’s smooth baritone said, “It is true that I knew Mary was the king’s daughter, and I knew that meant I would no longer be heir. But you are mistaken to think that I was in the least bit disturbed by this discovery. Princess Mary will be a great ruler. I support her completely.” He moved to my side and offered me his arm. “May I escort you to the Grand Hall, Princess?” He smiled sweetly at me without glancing once in Avana’s direction.
My heart sputtered and then beat again with a fragile lurch. “Thank you, Zefan Breeohan. I would be delighted.” I placed my hand in his as he walked us away from an astonished group of courtiers and a very angry Avana.
I cast a last glance back to see Avana’s intense glower directed at me before turning away and exiting the room. I probably hadn’t scored any points in the eyes of the surrounding nobility after my conversation with Avana. Avana would hate me more than ever now too. I would just have to deal with her venom as it came. Maybe I could ask my father to send her on a foreign relations trip to some distant country. That thought gave me a moment’s happiness. But it faded as I thought of my newly acquired clout as heir to the kingdom.
“Uh, Mary, this isn’t the Grand Hall,” Breeohan teased after I veered us into an small, empty room to the side of the hallway where courtiers streamed past.
“Are you sure you don’t mind not being the heir anymore? I didn’t know that would happen. I mean, I guess it’s stupid, but I thought you would stay the heir because you’re from here and I’m not. You can have it back. I’ll talk to the king—I mean, my father—and ask him to change it back.” Fearful apprehension bloomed inside my chest at the thought of average teenage American me being r
equired to one day rule a nation.
Breeohan put his finger to my lips. “I spoke the truth. I told you before I never wanted to be the heir. You’ve given me back my freedom—or at least the illusion of it.” He smiled wryly. My foreboding faded as my insides tingled with the nearness of him.
We had been constantly surrounded by crowds and servants throughout the journey back to the palace and hadn’t found an opportunity to be alone. I felt suddenly strange and disconcerted as we stood inches from one another with no one in sight. I tried to distract myself from my frantic heartbeat pulsing up through my throat. “Yikes. I guess that means I’m the caged one now. You’re sure you don’t want it back?” I laughed breathily.
“No, but I’ll be happy to spend as much time as is needed to teach you all that is required of being the heir.” The corner of his lips curved impishly.
“It might take me a while to learn it all.” My mouth quirked.
His purple eyes snared mine, and my breath snagged. “That’s what I’m hoping.” The arch of his lips turned into a grin.
I remembered to breathe and retorted, “Fine, but I’m not calling you, ‘Master.’ ”
He closed the scant space between us until I felt his light breath on my lips. And then he whispered, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
Discussion Questions
What kind of problems do you think you would face if you were suddenly in a country without modern conveniences?
Why do you think there are class systems in so many societies? How does the class system in Iberloah compare to the ones you know? Is it better or worse or the same? Why?