“Off-limits?”
“What do you mean off-limits?”
“Are we prisoners?”
Several voices spoke at once.
“No, not prisoners, guests. But the royal family is still the royal family, and this is their home. The limits allow them privacy. It’s also for their protection, and yours.”
“This is absurd. We are candidates to be the prince’s wife. We should have full access,” the rude lady whined.
Ashura stiffened but kept his voice even. “Absurd or not, it is the way it is. You will be dismissed if found in an unauthorized area. One of you will become wife to the prince, so all of you do not need access to the entire palace.”
He stepped to the door. “Come. We will tour a small portion of the palace and then come back for our first class session.”
Cahri found the gallery of portraits interesting. Ashura mentioned a few notable pieces of art — pottery depicting warriors, and statues of half-naked men and women — as they walked the halls. She preferred the more personal element of the family portraits in the gallery.
Despite the steward’s assurance to the contrary, this home was their prison, albeit an opulent one.
The tour and class lasted until lunch, and in the afternoon the ladies were given spa treatments. Cahri declined to participate with the others. Ashura regarded her with dismay, but when Anaya spoke to him, he nodded his ascent and moved on. Cahri started to go to her room, when Anaya motioned for her to follow. Cahri trailed after her when the woman didn't wait for her to say yes or no, but walked off, expecting Cahri to follow.
Who was the servant here? She chuckled to herself. Her silence allowed Anaya to get her way, not that Cahri cared one way or the other. She’d never had a servant, nor did she want one now.
Cahri followed Anaya until she came to a forbidden section of the palace. She slowed, but Matthias touched her back and said, “Go.”
It was the first word he had ever directed toward her, so she obeyed, although with a great deal of trepidation. Excitement and fear warred with each other. She anticipated seeing a different section of the palace, but feared getting in trouble for being in an off-limits area. She caught up to Anaya just outside an exquisite set of carved doors. The flowers, maybe daisies or small sunflowers, followed a winding vine of leaves up and around the wood. Beautiful.
Anaya entered, and Cahri moved to follow but paused to run her fingers over the carvings. Matthias closed the door when Cahri stepped past it. Anaya told her to sit on a toile-upholstered barstool situated in the middle of the bedroom before she disappeared through another door.
Cahri sat. She couldn’t keep hiding behind her silence. Was this a good time to speak?
She glanced at the huge room furnished with expensive linens and cherry Queen Anne furniture. A plush oriental rug covered a large portion of the floor.
It didn't look like a servant's quarters.
A king-sized bed stood front and center of one wall, flanked by floor-to-ceiling windows. Or were they doors? In front of one of the windows sat a small bistro-like table. A dresser and a desk graced another wall. The corner of the third and fourth walls held a seating area, including a red damask sofa and matching chair. Was that a real Tiffany lamp?
She fiddled with the creases on her jeans. She stood and took a step toward the door, then returned to the stool, sat back down, and bounced her knee. She shouldn't be here. Questions flitted through her mind, and she decided to end her silence.
“Why am I here?” Cahri asked Anaya when the other woman returned to the room.
“Ah, you have deemed me worthy to speak to again, Chosen One. I am overcome with joy.”
Cahri flinched at Anaya’s tone. “No need to get nasty. It wasn't personal. I've just been overwhelmed with the changes required of me.” She sighed. “Why am I here?”
“Because your hair is different from the others, I have decided to trim, wash, and condition it in private for your comfort. The others will have theirs done in their rooms.” Anaya removed Cahri’s hat and released her braid.
“Just a moment, and the water will be ready for you to bathe, and then we will wash and condition your hair.
“I have noticed you have decided not to wear the clothes provided for you, instead choosing your own.”
Cahri raised her eyebrows and shrugged. “I figured I may as well accentuate my differences.”
“That's fine, but this evening you will wear what has been provided. The prince will inspect the chosen ones and eliminate any he finds lacking. Do not be among the first to go. The most desperate and lowest of nobles will pick from these, and their lives will not be easy.”
Anaya’s words of warning sent a shiver of dread down Cahri’s spine. She expected to be one of the first to go. Not one man in Belikara thought her pale skin beautiful. A few had been desperate enough to be seen with her, but not more than two or three times. Others had been more interested, but they desired a more clandestine relationship. “I won’t be marrying a noble. I have made other plans should I be eliminated.”
Anaya nodded. She moved around the room, grabbing brushes, hair bands, and various other styling equipment. “The prince longs for a wife who will help him and not harm him. He also seeks someone worthy to be queen when the time comes. You must know that he is discerning. He trusts God to guide him in his decisions, but he is a man and will also look on the more visible qualities of the women.”
Worthy to be queen? She would never be worthy to be queen. Elimination was imminent.
“There are certain rules you must follow. Do not look at him before he requests it. He will think less of you, though he may not eliminate you altogether — that would displease the king.” After depositing her armful of products on a table, Anaya stood in front of Cahri and gazed into her eyes. “Tonight is a test. I have given you fair warning because I think you will be good for my prince.”
How could she be good for the prince?
Anaya continued, “None of the others will know about tonight's test. They will just think it is an inspection to see if they are worthy to continue in the Bridal March.”
Who would they think is inspecting them if not the prince?
“The prince has not been seen in public as himself for many years. He prefers his privacy. So none will know it is he, save you. Do not give the secret away. Now let's get started. You must look your best.”
Good luck with that.
“Come, take off your things,” Anaya said.
Cahri walked to the bathroom. She hesitated by the white claw-footed tub. Heat infused her cheeks at the idea of undressing in front of someone else. Anaya left, and before she could return, Cahri stripped off her clothes and hid in the bubble-filled tub. Anaya handed Cahri a washcloth containing a quarter-sized squirt of gorgeous smelling pink bath gel. Cahri inhaled a hint of rose. She washed while Anaya readied the shampoo and conditioner. “I love the smell of this gel.”
“It is the prince's favorite.”
“You seem to know a lot about the prince.” Cahri hoped to squeeze information from Anaya with a few subtle comments. She wanted to know more about the man behind the Bridal March.
“Of course I do. I have lived here all my life.” There had to be more to it than that. This woman knew too much, and this room was extravagant.
A mistress, perhaps? Cahri didn’t question her further, sensing it would accomplish nothing.
Anaya handed Cahri another washcloth with a gel which smelled like mint and resembled green toothpaste. “What is this?”
“It’s for your face. Scrub, but with gentle swirls. It will make your skin glow.”
Cahri obeyed. Her face tingled.
“Whose room is this?” After rinsing her face, she touched her cheek. Silky smooth.
“Mine.”
Rich silks and brocades adorned the bathroom window and shower curtain. The counter and floors were white marble.
“Yours? Do all the servants have rooms like this?”
> “No.”
Cahri sighed to herself. It seemed Anaya would not answer her questions with more than one-word comments. Maybe later, after they'd been together longer — if she wasn’t eliminated tonight. She gulped at the thought.
Anaya washed Cahri's hair, massaging her scalp in the process. Cahri had always loved it when her momma washed and brushed her hair. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the sensation of someone pampering her for a change. All too soon, Anaya commanded her to rinse. When Cahri came out of the water after rinsing the shampoo out of her hair, Anaya applied conditioner.
“Why are you showing me special attention? I noticed none of the other girls have a servant or bodyguards. Why me?”
Anaya massaged in the conditioner. “I was given permission to pick one of the fifty to whom I would devote special attention for a short time. After investigating all the others, I chose you. I know my prince quite well, and I believe you will be good for him.”
After Cahri's hair was rinsed, Anaya handed her a plush white towel. Cahri stood and wrapped it around herself and then took another one for her hair.
Maybe she was his mistress.
“Do you love him?” Cahri studied Anaya’s delicate features.
“Yes.” Anaya whirled away, and placed the shampoo and conditioner bottles under the counter.
“Why don't you marry him? You’re close to his age.” As soon as she'd spoken she wanted to draw back her words. Her curiosity was going to get her into trouble again. She dropped her gaze. “I'm sorry. It's not my business.”
Anaya swiveled back around. Cahri glanced up in time to see her knowing grin. “It's okay. I can’t marry him because I am his sister.”
“His sister?” Cahri blinked. “You’re the princess?” Understanding dawned. “The guards are for you.”
Appalled she’d assumed Anaya was a servant, Cahri cringed. Heat crept up her neck and into her cheeks. She had just had her hair washed by the princess.
“I am and they are, but I have chosen to be your servant and your mentor. It was my choice, and I will continue to be so until either my brother chooses you, you are released from the Bridal March, or my father tells me otherwise.” She started to walk away, but as she left she said, “Come, the servant has arrived who will trim your hair, then you will dress in the outfit I have chosen for you.”
The clothes Cahri had ignored this morning lay across the bed, waiting for her.
For the next two hours the servant trimmed, dried, and arranged Cahri's hair and then put her hat back in place. Afterward, another servant delivered dinner.
Cahri squirmed under Anaya’s persistent gaze. “You now know I’m the princess, but you must not tell anyone else. You’ll still call me Anaya, and I’ll continue to be your servant. No one else is to know. Do you understand?”
“I understand.” She spoke the words, but she didn’t comprehend why this woman, this princess, would be interested in helping her. It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense — being chosen, moving from her home, being helped by the princess. It all came together in a jumbled pile of facts in her mind. God had to be behind this fiasco. She wished He’d leave her alone.
Anaya touched Cahri’s arm, startling her. “It’s time for you to rejoin the others. They have also been instructed to prepare for an inspection. Remember what I told you. The prince will know your heart when he looks into your eyes, but do not look up before he comes to you.”
“I’ll remember. Thank you.”
“Matthias will take you back now.”
As Cahri followed Matthias back to her room, her heart raced. She inhaled as deep as her lungs would allow and tried to relax. Again and again she told herself to act normal.
Chapter Eight
Josiah prowled around his room like a caged tiger and contemplated the inspection he would perform in less than an hour. He lowered himself onto a chair at the table where his dinner waited and pushed the food around on his plate with his fork. Tension knotted his stomach. At this rate, he wouldn't make it through the next six months. He massaged his temples to relieve his headache. Why can’t this… this humiliation be over already?
All afternoon Anaya had busied herself with the one she called Cahri, leaving him alone without anyone to distract him. He’d tried to work, but he couldn’t keep his mind focused.
His father didn't understand, would never understand. Josiah didn’t want just any wife. She must be someone special, someone he could love.
How could he choose a bride in six months? Could any of these women be that special? There wouldn't be much time to get to know any of them. But then, he'd thought he'd known Remalyn. Obviously he hadn't.
He wiped his hand across his eyes and then gazed out at the flowers. Sections of roses, not yet blooming, flanked by artistic shrubs with benches situated below various vines to maximize shade. His favorite place to walk and pray offered no solace now. He’d agreed to allow the chosen ones access instead. At least he could watch and learn about them.
A knock sounded on his door.
“Come.” He hadn’t meant to bark out the word.
Anaya entered, stared at him for a few moments, and then walked to where he sat. “You need to relax, Josiah.”
He snorted. His sister knew him well. “How do I relax when there are fifty women expecting me to choose one of them to be my wife? How do I choose? How will I know?” He pushed his fingers through his hair.
“You pray, and God will show you. Trust Him, even more now since you don't feel you can trust yourself.” Anaya smoothed down his disturbed locks. He held back another snort at her maternal actions.
Does she know how right she is? Josiah stood and pivoted away from her.
“What about this one you call Cahri? What is she like?”
“You know I won’t tell you. You must find out for yourself. I will tell you, though, she is different from the others, in many ways.”
“What's the point of you spending time getting to know her if you won't share what you find?”
Anaya chuckled. “Sharing with you is not the purpose of my time with her. My goal is to help her pass your tests.”
He grunted at the smile which graced her face. “Fine sister you are.”
“Aren't I, though?” She giggled and hugged him. “Trust me, after tonight you will see some of what I have chosen to keep to myself.”
He plopped back into the chair. “How will I get through this and still please Father?”
“You will do it like you've done everything else. You will rely on your princely wisdom, and, more important than that, on Godly wisdom. The Lord will show you. Trust Him. Keep praying. Keep watching. Keep listening.”
“It's too hard. Father doesn't understand why I haven't found a wife since Remalyn. It’s not like I haven't tried.”
“Father knows. He wants you to be happy, but he also knows you have shied away from anyone who has dared come too close. He must also follow the tradition, which is why the Bridal March is happening. You must understand his position.” She rubbed his shoulders. “Don’t worry about Father right now. Relax. Enjoy getting to know the chosen ones.”
His muscles relaxed a little under her expert hands.
“Thank you.” He stood and hugged her. He still doubted he’d find a woman he could love, but he was resigned to find a wife he could live with.
****
When Cahri returned to her room, the others talked all at once.
“What's going on?” she asked.
They stared at her as if she'd grown horns.
“So you can talk. Where have you been that you don't know?” a tall, well-endowed woman answered. Hoping this one would be among the first to go, Cahri hadn’t bothered to learn her name.
“Exploring.” She didn't want to tell them the truth. They would shun her for sure if they knew. “What's going on?”
“We were told to get ready for an inspection of some sort, to see if we are worthy of the Bridal March,” Iksura answered.
&nbs
p; “I thought we were already considered worthy when we were chosen,” whined a smooth-skinned, curvy, and demanding woman.
The tone of her voice grated on Cahri’s ears, and she dug her nails into her palms to keep from acting on her desire to slap the woman.
Iksura stared at Cahri for a few moments with a frown on her face. “Weren’t you wearing different clothes earlier?”
Ashura entered, interrupting Cahri’s struggle for an honest, but not too honest answer.
“Follow me, please.” His stern demeanor brooked no arguments from any of her roommates.
Cahri followed the others out of the room toward the common area. The tables and chairs had been pushed to the walls, leaving a large space in the middle. The women lined up as instructed. Standing at the end of the line, Cahri fiddled with the silver embroidery on the hem of her shirt.
This was going to be a long wait. She stared at the tiled floor. It consisted of white tiles with a mosaic tile thrown in at random intervals. She stood beside one which depicted the oranges and pinks of the sun rising over sand-colored hills. She’d love to be someplace like that now.
Footsteps came closer. She rubbed her damp palms down the front of her black pants. Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed a procession of men’s shoes, five or six pairs at least, working their way down the line. After looking at each woman, one male voice, she presumed it to be Prince Josiah, spoke one of two words. With the utterance of one word, the woman was led from the room. With a different spoken word, she remained standing in line to wonder which was better, to leave or to be left.
Better to stay. There goes the large, obnoxious one. The servants will celebrate tonight.
The velvety voice working its way toward her sounded familiar.
No, not possible.
Could it be?
Bits and pieces of conversation drifted to her ears. She tilted her head just enough to see who spoke and to whom. The prince had stopped in front of the young woman whom Cahri noticed yesterday. She would be perfect for him. They even looked good together. An unexpected sensation shot through her. What was she feeling?
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