by M. L. Ryan
As I made my way to her suite, I noticed two sentries posted at the beginning of every corridor. Previously, there were only guards at the main entrance to the area of the royal apartments. Given the many unknowns still surrounding Kyzal’s death, I found the heightened security presence comforting, but wondered what the Royal Guards had been told was the reason for the increased show of force. It had to be a major undertaking to keep secrets when such a huge number of people—guards, household staff, office workers—were involved. They all seemed unfazed by the changes, but I wondered how well under wraps the details were actually being kept.
The door to Tannis’ rooms was, like all the others in this section of the palace, an arched, wooden behemoth, intricately carved with scenes of great moments in Alenquai history. I took a moment before knocking to admire the work, a depiction of some horse-mounted royal leading his countrymen into magical battle against an unknown adversary. The door to our suite looked almost identical, but, I’d been informed, was of a different equestrian king leading his countrymen into magical battle against an unknown adversary. For such a peace-loving people, their past was sure littered with conflict and bloodshed.
I rapped just above the windswept mane of the central steed. When Tannis didn’t come to the door, I tried again, with the same result. Damn. I figured she’d be in; I’d checked with her maid, who reported she hadn’t yet seen Tannis out and about. I supposed she might be in the bathroom, so I waited a bit and knocked again, a little harder this time.
“Hytpixit frynd?” a noticeably grumpy voice called from inside.
Loosely translated, the phrase meant, “What the hell do you want?”
I responded with a sheepish, “It’s me, Hailey.”
The door opened, enough for Tannis to peek her uncharacteristically rumpled head out into the hall. From what little I could see, she held a silky robe around her and seemed kind of flushed. Crap—she must have been napping.
Her displeasure faded when she realized it was me. “Oh, hey! Sorry I snapped at you; I thought you were one of the house staff who didn’t understand iryxij. Is there a problem?”
I felt bad for disturbing her—and for not recognizing she intentionally wasn’t answering the door—but without a believable alternate reason for why I was there, I told her the truth. “Your mother wants to talk to me, and I hoped you might come along to run interference.”
“About the Boklym thing?”
“Undoubtedly,” I answered, wincing.
Tannis scanned the hall. Leaning closer, she whispered, “Normally, I’d be right there with you, but this really isn’t a good time. I’m kind of… busy.”
That explained her rosy cheeks, now we matched. “Oh, geez, sorry. I would never have bothered you had I known you weren’t alone. It’s fine,” I continued, backing away with my palms extended. “I’m a big girl; I can handle this alone. Pretend I was never here.”
I spun around, intending to make a quick exit.
“Wait,” Tannis called out, still sotto voce. As I turned, she glanced over her shoulder. “He’s asleep. Give me fifteen minutes to make myself presentable and I’ll meet you in the Autumn Parlor.”
“Is that the red one with all the windows or the blue one with the velvet sofas?”
“Neither. The yellow one near the sunroom. Do you know where that is?”
And I thought having two parlors was extravagant. “I’ll find it.”
“Great,” she said. “See you in a few.”
Turned out, there were actually five parlors, and it took me close to a half hour to navigate to the correct one. Even so, I still made it to the appointed spot a couple of minutes before Tannis. As usual, she looked fantastic.
“Sorry I’m late,” she offered as we departed for the queen’s sitting room. There were a bunch of those, too, and I hadn’t figured out the difference between what happened there compared to a parlor. As far as I could tell, they were all large rooms with lots of not particularly comfortable furniture.
“I really appreciate you taking the time to help me.”
“I’d have been here sooner, but Ulut woke up and, well, I had to take another shower.”
“Ulut. Ulut?” I sputtered. “Our Ulut?”
Tannis furrowed her brows. “What other one is there?”
“Obviously, it’s our Ulut. I’m just, uh, surprised.”
Tannis stopped walking and placed her hands on her hips. “Who else would I be sleeping with?”
Who indeed? Why I hadn’t considered my friend as her bedmate was a mystery. They had seemed pretty chummy lately, but given her furtiveness, I assumed her paramour was one of the Royal Guards. Tannis had a weakness for the lower-ranked members and their polished, knee-high boots, much to her mother’s chagrin.
The challenge in her voice surprised me, too. As long as I’d known Tannis, she engaged in only casual, no-big-deal liaisons. In that, she was much like pre-Rachel Sebastian, without his indiscriminate man whoring, of course. I’d teased her a lot about her penchant for choosing forbidden lovers—like the guards—couplings that would never lead to an actual relationship. She always took the good-natured harassment in stride.
I hadn’t meant to insult Tannis, or disparage Ulut in any way. “Hey, I’m happy for you. Ulut’s a great guy.”
Her expression softened. “He really is.”
We continued toward our destination, without further discussion about Ulut or my less-than-enthusiastic reaction to their burgeoning whatever it was. Not that there was much to say. They were both adults, and I sure as hell didn’t want to hear Tannis’ usual post-hookup recap. It was one thing when she disclosed the wanton proclivities of someone I’d never met, but I had no interest in Ulut’s. Although, I did wonder if he preferred to do it doggy-style, but was too polite to ask.
Tannis pulled me aside when the well-guarded entrance to the queen’s sitting room came into view. “Stick to the facts, remain suitably contrite, but don’t let her push you around,” she advised.
“Does that technique work when she’s pissed off at you?”
“I usually just ignore her rants, but I’m the youngest; she assumes I’ll be insubordinate. You don’t have that luxury. You’ll have to balance your tendency to bristle at authority with her expectations of unconditional obedience.”
Why did everyone insist I had problems with authority figures? You’d think she’d be more concerned that I suspected Rexa had set me up in the first place.
“I can be deferential,” I argued. “Have you ever seen me with my own mother?”
“No, but authority issues can manifest as over compliance just as readily as irrational conflicts. Don’t resort to either.”
My interactions with the woman who birthed me were a tad passive-aggressive. Acquiescence with a healthy dose of snark. I wasn’t willing to concede the overall premise that I couldn’t stand being told what to do, but I couldn’t completely discount Tannis’ suggestion. Trying to lighten the moment, I chirped, “Okay, coach, I’ll stick to the game plan. Now let’s go in there and win one for team Parrish!”
I raised my hand, but clearly unfamiliar with the proper execution of a high five, Tannis only mimicked my action. Except such instances—or when magic was involved—it was easy to forget we came from different dimensions. Our palms hovered above our heads awkwardly until I closed the gap between us and completed the gesture with a firm slap.
“I have no idea what any of that was,” she admitted, staring at her fingers. “But do as I say.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, snapping a fist to the opposite shoulder.
She grinned, recognizing the Xyzok salute. “Time to face the music.”
Better than the firing squad, I decided.
21
The sitting room hadn’t been stripped down to a rickety metal chair with a spotlight trained upon it as I’d feared. Nope, Rexa intended the questioning to proceed under the auspices of a nice, friendly afternoon tea.
Two porcelain cups rested b
eside a silver tea service on a table between two oversized, high-backed chairs. The queen—legs demurely crossed at the ankles, arms crossed on her lap—sat ramrod straight on one. She obviously hadn’t been waiting in that position all afternoon, but how she knew exactly when I’d be arriving was another of those enduring palace mysteries. Whatever means of intelligence gathering she used, her surprise at seeing Tannis in attendance indicated her internal spy network needed some upgrades.
Being well practiced in the art of dissimulation, as any good monarch must be, I supposed, she quickly concealed any discomposure and tasked a butler with fetching another cup.
“Hailey, sit here,” she commanded, motioning toward the second chair. Without looking at her daughter, she added, “Tannis, dear, the settee.”
Dutifully, I sat where she indicated. At first glance, the chairs may have appeared the same, but my seat lacked the thick cushion under Rexa’s rear end. I didn’t for a moment think the omission was unintentional. Not only did the absence of padding make mine less comfortable, but it also gave the queen an additional height advantage. Tannis plunked herself down on a tapestried sofa, close enough to be part of the conversation, but clearly not within the carefully crafted intimidation zone.
We waited in uncomfortable silence until the butler returned with the teacup, poured the tea, and distributed the beverages.
“That will be all, Chyves,” Rexa instructed. He nodded once and backed away, closing the double doors as he departed.
Setting her untouched tea on the table, she loomed over me from her pillow-buttressed perch. “Now then, explain why there were pictures of you leaving the home of a single male Jjestrian in the middle of the night?”
She was good, very good. No preamble, no easing into it. Just an all-out assault from the get-go. But, Sebastian and Alex had taught me a few tricks of my own.
I took a sip of tea and carefully replaced the cup in the saucer. “Tasty brew. Is it domestic or imported?”
In truth, I wasn’t a fan. Iced tea, I loved. Hot? Not so much. And I couldn’t have cared less where the stuff was cultivated. It was simply a way to assume whatever control over the situation I could. It wasn’t much, but it was something.
“Imported,” she answered, a tiny line forming between her blue eyes.
Good. Maybe I’ve slightly unnerved her. Hailey, one; Future mother-in-law, zero.
I proceeded to tell her everything: how I met Boklym at the ball, the picnic with Tannis, the dinner, and then its after-party from hell.
Rexa seemed unimpressed by the explanation. “Be that as it may, there is evidence, public evidence, suggesting you cheated on the Crown Prince of Alenquai.”
“But I didn’t.”
“That is irrelevant,” she countered. “People believe you did.”
“Do you?”
“Do I what?”
“Do you believe I cheated on Alex?”
The queen fixed an icy stare on me. “No,” she said finally. “Why would you jeopardize your position as a future royal?”
Not exactly a rousing endorsement. Her confidence in my fidelity was based on insinuating myself into her family, not because I desperately loved Alex.
“However,” she continued. “It creates a public relations nightmare. To say nothing of embarrassing my son.”
At the mention of Alex’s reaction, I lost a little of my bravado. “I know,” I admitted sheepishly. “That’s the part that bothers me the most.”
And the score is tied.
Before the queen had a chance to respond, Tannis added her take. “He seemed perfectly normal to me; I had no inkling he was trying to manipulate Hailey. There was no reason for her to suspect it, either.”
“More to the point of implausibility,” Rexa challenged. “What reason would the son of a noble have to plot such a scheme?”
“The Xyzok are convinced he acted under the guidance of someone else.” Like, you, maybe? I took a page from Sebastian’s playbook, arching an accusatory brow.
Rexa’s expression remained inscrutable. She either didn’t catch my meaning, or was better at this game than I thought. Nevertheless, I awarded myself another point.
“As I asserted, the truth is immaterial. Perception is not.” The queen stood, walked across the room, and gazed out a floor-to-ceiling mullioned window. “At best, you showed an incautious deficiency in sound judgement. You should never have gone inside.”
Crap, she made me sound like a thoughtless airhead, and that was the most favorable option. “I know; it was stupid. It never occurred to me there was any danger.”
Rexa spun around, her accusatory stare boring into me. “I realize you have no experience with living in the public eye, but you must learn, and quickly, that as the gryndin lypsemma, everything you do and say is subject to scrutiny. At times, incomprehensibly exhaustive scrutiny.”
She shifted her attention to Tannis.
“You have avoided the microscopic examination, partly because you were third in line and partly as a result of your father’s and my efforts to shield you.”
To me, she said, “Alexander had been spared the worst of it as well; he was rarely in this dimension and wasn’t set to be king. Things,” she added, heaving a weary sigh, “are now different.”
If Rexa’s intention was to rattle my cage, she’d succeeded. I certainly didn’t want to be the Kevin Federline of Courso, known only for being married to someone famous, but neither did I aspire to be Brittany Spears. I was not well suited for celebrity: I hated being the center of attention, rejected the concept of privilege for its own sake, and spurned those who glorified others because they were a VIP. I reluctantly conceded we were back to level.
“It will not be a simple matter to rehabilitate your image, Hailey,” Rexa continued. “To that end, I’ve asked Ryxjat to schedule some appearances for you and Alexander to assure the people of Alenquai your relationship is solid and any rumors to the contrary are untrue.”
Now she’s taken the lead, damn it.
My punishment was doubly heinous: being in the public eye and dealing with her piece of shit right-hand man. The combination disturbed me so thoroughly, words I never thought I’d ever say spilled out.
“What about my PA. Can’t he be in charge of the PR?” Tannis looked askance; even she seemed surprised I’d gone to bat for Pixie.
“He has been demoted,” Rexa stated flatly. “If he performed his job satisfactorily, none of this would have happened.”
Demoted? What could be a worse job than trying to keep me under control? I wondered. I wasn’t about to let Pixie take the brunt of the punishment, nor would I accept Ryxjat as my minder without a fight. Or, at the very least, a spirited discussion. Summoning as much humility as I could reasonably muster, I made my pitch.
“May I say something?” I asked, lowering my eyes demurely.
“Please do.” The queen’s brows lifted ever so slightly, apparently taken aback by my sudden attitude adjustment.
Yes! Half a point for mystifying the monarch.
“I wouldn’t want my protocol aid to suffer for my lack of good sense. Truthfully, I was more at fault for the debacle than anything he did or didn’t do.” Actually, ninety-percent of the culpability was Boklym’s, but I chose to leave him out. It was best to keep it simple when sucking up.
Rexa didn’t respond, but I took her silence as an invitation to continue. “We work well together.” I almost choked on those words. “And I’m sure Ryxjat has many other important duties. After all, you need him a lot more than I do.” That part was completely and undeniably true.
The queen considered the request. From a position out of her mother’s line of sight, Tannis gave me a thumbs-up. A moment later, I got my answer.
“I will allow it, but Ryxjat must be kept informed of all decisions.”
I let out a relieved breath. I’d come out of this pretty well, actually. Rexa hadn’t ripped me a new one, and I wouldn’t be subjected to regular encounters with the other butthol
e. All I had to do was pretend to grovel.
Problems with authority, my ass. Game, Hailey.
The queen interrupted my internal swaggering. “Alexander mentioned you and he planned on a long engagement. This was acceptable before the tabloids impugned your reputation. Within the week, the royal event planner and I will begin preparations for your wedding.”
With the clock running out, she launched a Hail Mary into the end zone, a three-pointer from half court at the buzzer, and a penalty kick in the waning seconds of injury time. I hadn’t really come to grips with betrothal; now I was being rushed to the altar to satisfy the queen’s skewed sense of tradition and propriety. Unbefuckinglievable.
Good thing I was sitting. Had I been on my feet, I wouldn’t have stayed upright as it felt like all the blood left my brain.
Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out.
As I fought for control, I was vaguely aware of Tannis and her mother tossing out ideas for the upcoming nuptials.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Customarily, a bride-to-be excluded from her own wedding plans would rebel against such a slight.
Breathe in, breathe out.
I quickly realized their absorption with gown designers and the best musical group for the rehearsal dinner—please, don’t let it be Alien Butt Crack—meant they remained oblivious to my anxiety attack.
By the time they remembered I might have an opinion or two, my outward appearance must have returned to normal. However, as much as I may have looked calm, cool, and collected, my gut was still twisted in knots. It didn’t help when they bandied about numbers of invitees in the thousands. Thousands? The people I actually wanted at my wedding could be counted on two hands, and a few of them could easily be moved to the “B” list. Wonderful, I lamented in silence. I’m going to have to write thank-you notes to every one of those twenty-four hundred fuckers.
Fortunately, two short raps upon the door brought the conversation to an abrupt end. Unfortunately, it was Ryxjat. Upon entrance, he bowed to his queen and Tannis and ignored me completely. Dickwad.