Under the Stars

by Rebecca A. Rogers

  Daphne begins to say something, but I grab her arm. “C’mon, Daph. We’ll just tell the King his wedding will be postponed because the seamstress refuses to make the dress.”

  “I didn’t say that!” she yells. “Stop! I’ll do it. Just don’t tell him stories.”

  “Good. Now show us all the white cloth you have stocked.” I can’t help but feel a little smug. By the looks of it, Daphne does too. Like we’re powerful. Like nothing in the world can stop us right now because the King is on my side.

  The seamstress disappears into a back room.

  “Ya have pull,” says Daphne.

  “It’s funny that I just mention the King’s name, and she agrees to help.” Even as I speak, I keep my gaze directed toward the door. “Is what she said true? About me being too young?”

  “Some people think so, miss.”

  I glance at Daphne. “That’s why they give me curt glares?”

  “Yes. They don’ think ya can handle bein’ Queen.”

  “But I can. I mean, I will.”

  “You’ll hafta prove them wrong.”

  The pudgy woman appears from the supply room with bolts of white fabric. She drops them on the table in front of us.

  “There. That’s it. All I got.” I’m met with a grunt. “Pick what ya want. Not like I have a say in the matter.”

  “Well, then, that’s what I choose.” I lift the two bolts up so she knows. Daphne steps forward, explaining how much we’ll need for my dress.

  When the materials are in hand, Daphne insists we get my measurements. “I want ta make the dress myself, if that’s all right.”

  “I couldn’t imagine anyone else making it for me.”

  A middle-aged woman with a flower wreath around her head stops me before reaching the room. “King’s orders. Need to know if your family and friends will attend. We have to make a guest list,” she says.

  “I’d like for my family to be here. They’re in Legora and don’t know that the wedding is tomorrow. It’s all so sudden.”

  The woman smirks. “Of course. I’ll send for them right away.”

  Before I can take two more steps, a footman approaches with a slip of paper in his hand. “The meal is one of the most important events for tomorrow. Aside from your wedding, obviously. But we need to know your preference on a few items.” He flips the paper so it’s facing me. The list is a mile long. Appetizers. Main Course. Dessert. Each with at least ten different options.

  “I think I’ll go with the sprout rolls for the appetizer, sharsan for the main course and for dessert, um, the chocolate surprise.”

  He bows out, heading toward the kitchen. What will Malik think about cooking all this food? Or will he be allowed to attend the wedding?

  “So what’s the surprise?” Daphne asks.

  “I have no clue. Just sounded entertaining.”

  Daphne locks the doors behind us upon entering my chambers. She says there should be no more interruptions, so she can concentrate.

  She measures everything from head to toe. “I jus’ wanna make sure yer day is perfect,” she tells me.

  “I need to locate the King when we’re finished.”

  “Oh?”

  “I’d feel awful if Malik wasn’t there. I don’t want him preparing my food; I want him to be sitting with me, eating it.”

  “I don’ see why he couldn’t.”

  Later, when I visit King Zarek in his study, he’s not too thrilled that I missed his tennis match. On top of that, I have to bring up the subject of Malik and his role in the wedding. The King says, “We need all the cooks we can get tomorrow. Have you seen the guest list, my dear?”

  “Yeah, it’s lengthy, but that’s not the point. Malik’s my friend. I don’t want him to work on the day of my wedding.”

  The King sighs. “Very well. He is permitted to attend. But only because you begged for him to.”

  “I didn’t—”

  “Ah, ah.” He tick-tocks his finger at me. “Let’s not argue tonight. Tomorrow is our day, and I don’t want anything to ruin it. You need your sleep as much as I do. Run along, sweetheart. I’ll see you when the sun wakes.”

  Is it possible to feel so alone the night before you vow to spend the rest of your life with someone?

  42.

  “It’s yer day, miss,” Daphne says. “Ya hafta look like a queen. You’ll be one.”

  All of this preparation and work by people, who may or may not want a new addition to their monarchy, seems surreal.

  “They don’t like me much, do they?” I ask. “Like, none of them.”

  Daphne’s eyes drop to the floor. “They’re used to the Old World. Don’ take it personal.”

  “Well,”—I inhale a deep breath—“maybe I can be the one to change their minds.”

  “I hope so, miss. Someone needs ta.”

  She finishes pinning areas of my dress that need to be tightened. The front is too long and will have to be hemmed so I won’t trip. How embarrassing would that be?

  “—an’ if it was me, I’d be havin’ a lovely time. But what do I know? I’ve only seen two weddings in mah life.”

  I attempt to focus on what she’s saying by nodding and using the occasional “uh huh”. My mind is only thinking about Mama and Mattie. As bothersome as all this is, I just want my family to be here. If they were, I’d feel a little more at ease with the situation. I’m still uncertain if Malik will show.

  “Ya haven’t heard anything I said, miss.”

  I knew she’d catch on. “I’m sorry. It’s just…I have a lot to consider right now.”

  Daphne stands, her arms enveloping me. “I know it happened fast, but you’ll be all right. You’ll see.”

  I hug her back. “I pray you’re correct.”

  Pulling away, she places the pin cushion on the vanity. “Let’s get ya out of that dress. I’ll hafta take it to the seamstress for finishin’ touches.”

  I don’t mind. It feels like sandpaper around the midsection.

  “I meant ta ask ya… What did the King say about Malik?”

  “He eventually said Malik could attend. But I don’t know that anyone’s told Malik.” I stare at my bare stomach, wondering if the King will see it tonight. I don’t even know how that ritual goes.

  “If I have ta, I’ll go tell him myself.” She playfully smacks my arm. “Now put some clothes on while I give the seamstress a piece of mah mind.”

  I fall back on my bed, the feathered mattress hugging me. More than anything, I want this day to be finished. Too much has happened in too little time and it makes my head spin. As long as my family and friends are there, that’s what matters most.

  And only the heavens know how much I miss my family.

  All of this is for them. If they could live here with me, I’ll never worry about if they’re hungry or if the clothes on their backs have too many holes or if they have a warm place to sleep.

  “Can I come in?” Malik asks, wrenching me away from my thoughts. He stands at the door in his kitchen outfit.

  “You don’t look like you’re ready for the wedding…”

  “Turns out they need all cooks tonight. Something about a big event taking place.” He snorts at his pathetic joke.

  I’m not laughing. “I told the King I wanted you there. He said it was okay.”

  “Well,” he pauses, glancing at his clothes then back at me, “apparently not. Congratulations, by the way. Hope it works out, my lady.” He performs an exaggerated bow and exits.

  I stomp off toward the King’s chambers, which are next door to his study. Several men I don’t recognize are stumbling around, laughing at nothing in particular.

  Governor Hadi notices me.

  “What are you doin’ in here, girl? You’re supposed to be gettin’ ready for your wedding,” he says, slurring his words.

  “I need to speak with His Majesty. Is he here?”

  Hadi closes the short distance between us, wrapping his arm around my neck in a tight hug. Like I’m
one of the guys.

  “Of course he is.” He leans in close and whispers, “But it’s bad luck to see him before the wedding.”

  His breath is putrid. I refrain from gagging.

  “I won’t look at him. I just need to talk with him about the guest list. Seems there’s been a mix up.”

  Hadi laughs and pats me hard. A little too hard. “I’ll go get ‘em.”

  “There’s no need to find me when I’m in the next room, Governor. Honestly,” the King says. “Leave us.”

  Everyone exits the room, giving me cold stares on their way out.

  “We shouldn’t be talking to each other right now.”

  “Because of that stupid bad luck myth?” I snort. “I have bigger problems right now. Like the fact that Malik showed up at my room wearing his kitchen attire and said he can’t attend the wedding.”

  “Oh, that? It can be fixed, darling,” he coos.

  “You know how much this means to me. I want him there. And did someone send for my family? I haven’t seen them.”

  “I had my riders go after them this morning.”

  “They had better be here. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life knowing they were left out of something that happens once in a lifetime.” I turn on my heel, thinking I’ll make a grand exit. Instead, the King jerks my arm.

  “Careful, Andrina. This day is as much mine as it is yours. But I shouldn’t remind you of your place in my kingdom. Though you will have the title and all that comes with it, you still have an obligation to me. I cannot have these dramatic displays in public. If you wish to speak to me privately, you may do so. But I won’t be embarrassed in front of my people. Am I making perfect sense?”

  “So I’m supposed to smile and pretend that everything is okay, when it’s not?”

  “As soon-to-be royalty, you cannot let the people talk. If they suspect anything is wrong between us, it will be your downfall.” He loosens his grip. “Try not to ruin anything. I’ve gone out of my way to make sure this evening is amazing. I so wish you wouldn’t let something this infinitesimal quash our moment.”

  This time, I don’t respond. I take my leave.

  I get it—I’m to listen to what the King says. After all, he is still my King. Not just my almost husband. Doesn’t matter now, or in the future, if he requests that I do something, I have to listen. Like he said: it’s my obligation.

  Daphne’s in my room, wedding dress folded over her arm.

  “Where ya been, miss?”

  I smile. “Nowhere. Just had to get some fresh air.”

  “Yer not gettin’ cold feet, are ya?”

  “No, not at all.”

  “Good. ‘Cause after the mess I’ve been through for ya, I’d feel like I’m jus’ wastin’ mah time.”

  I don’t know what comes over me, but I hug her. “Thanks for everything.”

  She giggles. “I was jus’ jokin’ with ya, miss. No need ta thank me.”

  “I guess I could be having second thoughts. I mean, I am a little young to be married. But I’m doing this to help these people, my people. And my family.”

  “Well, of course ya are. Some people don’ see that, though.” She drapes the dress over the back of the vanity chair.

  I lean against the bedpost. “What do they see?”

  “A young girl who’s usin’ the King for money. That’s what I’ve heard.”

  “They think because I’ve come from poverty that I’ve convinced the King to marry me? That’s crazy.”

  Daphne nods. “I know, miss. But that’s jus’ talk. Don’ let it get ta ya.”

  I remember what King Zarek said to me about gossip, and how it can affect us. Today I’ll attempt to push it to the deepest section of my mind. I can’t be reminded of their words, not now.

  “We need ta get ya ready. It’s gettin’ close to time.”

  The dress fits perfectly this time. No changes. Daphne’s relieved, too. With so little time, I didn’t believe we could pull it off.

  We barely have enough time to doll up my hair and face before footmen knock on my door.

  “The wedding is beginning soon. King Zarek wants you to be ready in fifteen minutes,” one says. “The guests are seated.”

  “Thank you.” Nerves rush to the surface of my skin, stinging and burning. I exhale a short breath. “This is it, then?”

  “It is, miss. Ya look beautiful.”

  The footmen wait outside the door. I’m ready so there’s no need to leave them waiting. I just hope King Zarek allowed Malik to attend, and that my family is here to watch.

  Outside my room, decorations have been set in place.

  Everywhere my eyes meet, something is garlanded in white silk and flowers. Tiny, pasty angels hang from ceilings, or are fixated on the corners of doorways. Colorless petals are dispersed across the floors.

  But when I see the garden, all air evaporates from my lungs.

  The hedges are stuffed with white roses. Glossy fabric is draped in loops and twists along the sides. About one hundred people are seated in high-back chairs, except for King Zarek and the minister, who both stand at the front.

  I scan the crowd, hoping to catch a peek at Mama or Mattie in the audience, but they are nowhere to be found. No sign of Malik, either. Where are they? He promised me they’d be here.

  Each step is taken carefully, so I won’t trip. The mass stands, turning to face me. A violinist in the front corner plays a gentle melody that echoes against the castle’s structure.

  I stop and close my eyes for only a heartbeat. My family and the people of Legora depend on the events of today. On me.

  Time closes in against my vision. Almost like I can see myself from a distance, like this isn’t really happening. I wish it wasn’t. When I was a young girl, I dreamed of this day, but this isn’t how I pictured any of it. Though every girl wants their own prince, I now believe it’s just a metaphor.

  King Zarek smiles at me. His people assess me up and down, most likely placing bets on how long I’ll last.

  I want to turn around and run. I don’t care if it’s through the desert or some distant town. I could disappear forever.

  But the closer I get to King Zarek, the more his grin warms my heart, telling me everything’s going to be okay. For all of us.

  “My beloved people,” he begins once I reach the stage, “please be seated.”

  The cleric cocks one eyebrow, and then raises his hand toward the throng of devout followers in front of him. “We are here today to marry the King and his bride before the eyes of God and His children. All of you are witnesses to this moment in history when King Zarek has finally chosen a wife.”

  The King clears his throat.

  “Ah, yes,” the minister mumbles, flipping through a few pages of the book he’s holding. “Andrina Stevens, do you take His Majesty, King Zarek, to be your husband for the remainder of your days? Do you promise to be loyal to him and his people, no matter the cost?”

  Oh, no. The universe is crashing down on me. I squeeze my eyes shut. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. But that doesn’t help the fluttering wings in my stomach, or the fact that the sky is whirling.

  “Andrina…” King Zarek sucks me back into reality.

  “Can I have a minute?” I rasp.

  Whispers crawl through the audience. I know what they’re thinking: She shouldn’t be marrying him anyway. But have they heard the real story?

  “Andrina,” King Zarek murmurs from one side of his mouth—the side facing away from his people, “we haven’t got all day. If you have a problem with this, I suggest you say so now.” His eyes ignite like fire from the heavens.

  I have to get my act together. I have to think about Mama and Mattie and all those other people who depend on me. I have to make this right.

  Pushing past the rabid butterflies and the faintness, I say, “I do.”

  The minister doesn’t hesitate. “And do you, King Zarek, take Andrina to be your wife for the remainder of yours days? Do yo
u promise to be loyal to her, whatever the cost?”

  King Zarek smirks. “Of course I do.”

  “By the power vested in me through God, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” He looks out to the crowd. “People of Valyad, welcome your new Queen.”

  Queen. I haven’t thought much about that word, or its meaning. But now I’m someone of power. These people need me like my own people do.

  “Let the festivities begin!” King Zarek says. And by festivities he means a game of tennis because I missed his yesterday. Now I have no choice but to watch.

  Afterwards, we’ll eat.

  I do know one thing: this is not how I pictured my wedding. I’m not sure if I really know what I expected from this, other than to help my family and the people.

  “Do I still have to call you a royal name?”

  This sparks a laugh from him. “Only if that is your wish.” His hand remains on the small of my back, guiding me toward the rows of seating outside the tennis court.

  The guests roar with excitement as the game begins. Though I don’t say it, I’m certain they’ll let him win. Who beats the King at his favorite sport and gets away with it?

  When the referee proclaims that the King has won, everyone takes a break. Drinks are passed around in crystal glasses, and appetizers are served on mirrored dishes.

  “Having fun, my dear?” Zarek asks through the viewing net.

  If I have to fake our conversations for the public, now’s a good time to start practicing.

  “It’s wonderful. I can’t imagine anything more exciting. You’ll have to teach me how to play.”

  If he knows I’m fooling everyone, it doesn’t show on his face. He’s completely ecstatic by my words.

  “Anytime you want.”

  Tennis continues for several more rounds. Each time Zarek wins. But nobody complains. They all act as if they’ve given their all and he’s beat them.

  Eventually, guests are ushered into the dining hall, where the feast is fresh and waiting. Zarek takes his usual seat at the head, and I sit beside him.

  “Andrina, you remember Governor Hadi,” says Zarek.

  I smile at the Governor. “I do. I see you’ve sobered up since earlier today.”

  It takes a moment for the Governor to compose himself. But he does it well, and responds, “Yes, my lady. I apologize for that sorry display. I hope you can forgive me.”