Black Sea Bright Song

by Shelly Jarvis

  “Why was he holding her, Declan?”

  “Evannia, didn’t you hear what I just said? Your mother’s advisor inquired about your relationship with Rafe. This is serious.”

  “I thought he cared about me.”

  Declan looked at her, and though his eyes showed kindness, his voice did not. “Princess, you must stop this. He cannot be linked to you. I swore to Illanee there was nothing between you. Don’t make a liar of me.”

  She looked up at him, tears forming on her lashes. Declan reached a calloused hand over and wiped them away. “You’re going to be okay, Evan.”

  She looked up at him, her eyes rimmed in red. She lifted her fingers to her lips and said, “He was my first kiss.”

  “He won’t be your last,” Declan said. “But you can’t see him again. There’s already too much suspicion. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

  Evan nodded.

  “I’ll have the guards bring a medic back to you and tell them that’s who you were looking for when you ran down the hall.”

  “Okay,” Evan whispered. “But not the one who was here earlier.”

  Declan nodded. “Lie down, Princess. You need to rest before dinner.”

  Evannia did as he said. Declan lifted her blankets and tucked her in. He cupped her cheek with his hand, and Evan was reminded of how her father would often do the same thing when he would tuck her in as a child.

  Declan stood and left her chamber. An elderly man returned shortly, feeling her head and checking her heartbeat, but again found everything to be normal. Evan remained in the same position, unmoving, for the entire duration of the checkup. The medic gave her some medicine to sleep, leaving Evan to her fitful dreams.

  Several hours later, Evan’s little sister opened the door and peeked her head through.

  “Evannia, are you awake?”

  “Yes,” Evan croaked.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Orielle asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “That’s not what everyone is saying. I heard one of the maids telling a cooking girl that you’re crazy.”

  “I’m not crazy, Ori.”

  Orielle walked across the room and sat down on the bed beside Evan. She stroked Evan’s hair for a few minutes and asked, “Are you sad?”

  Evan smiled faintly. Orielle was the only person in the kingdom who could read her so well. She was also the only person besides Rafe who knew of her empath abilities. Orielle had them too, stronger than Evan’s and with better control of them. Though Evan developed them around the time Orielle was born, Ori seemed to grow with them from birth.

  “Yes,” Evan said. “I’ve been sad. But I’m feeling better now that you’re here.”

  “Why are you sad?” Orielle asked.

  Evan shook her head. “Nothing for you to worry about. What have you been doing today?”

  “Brizette came to work with me on geography this morning.”

  “How did it go?”

  “She was gone by lunch,” Orielle said with a smile.

  “Mother won’t be pleased if you keep scaring away tutors,” Evan said, trying to hold back her smile.

  “Mother doesn’t care what I do, as long as I look like a princess while doing it. You should know that better than anyone, Ev.”

  Orielle stood and spun around, her pale pink dress glittering as the light caught it. “I’m supposed to be wearing my tiara tonight as well, but it hurts my head. I hoped one of the medics would be here so I could tell them about my headache, and then Uncle Arturo won’t be allowed to be mad at me for not wearing that stupid thing to the banquet.”

  “Ugh, I forgot about the banquet.”

  “How could you forget?” Orielle asked.

  Evan shrugged. “I’ve just been thinking about other things. I wonder if my illness today would excuse me from attending.”

  “No way,” Orielle said. “Mother will kill you if you don’t show up. She’s invited every noble in the kingdom.”

  Evan rolled her eyes. “Not every noble. She won’t do that until my Thrice Day.”

  “If you have a Thrice Day.”

  “What do you mean?” Evan asked. “Why wouldn’t I have one?”

  “You won’t need it if you’re already betrothed to Prince Calix.”

  Evan furrowed her brows and asked, “Now why would you say a thing like that?”

  “I’ve heard some people talking about it. They said the prince would be stupid not to choose you. Except the ones who think you’re crazy. They don’t think you’ll have a Thrice Day because you’re losing your mind. But mostly everyone thinks your Thrice Day will be your wedding to Prince Calix instead.”

  “Who is everyone?” Evan asked. “How many people have been talking about this?”

  Orielle shrugged. “Cooks, maids, guards, medics; in fact, just about everyone in the castle is talking about it.”

  “I think he would be stupid if he chose me,” Evan said.

  Orielle screwed up her face in confusion. “You’re the Triton princess and heir.”

  “It would still be stupid.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t love him.”

  “Do you love someone else?” Orielle asked, her eyes widening.

  Evan nodded. “I do, but it’s a secret.”

  “Who is it?”

  “It’s you, silly girl.”

  Orielle smacked at her and said, “That’s not a very good secret.”

  Evan smiled, pushed the blankets off her, and climbed out of bed. She grabbed Orielle and pulled her in for a hug.

  “Run along,” Evan said after a moment. “I need to get ready for dinner.”

  Orielle walked to the door and opened it. Before leaving, she turned and said, “Wear the red and black one. It’s my favorite.”

  After combing her hair and styling it in an elegant up-do, Evan walked into her closet. There were dozens of dresses hanging there, many of which she had never worn. Orielle’s favorite was one of those. It was a beautiful piece, tiny red flowers covering sheer black lace. She’d had it in her closet for the last year, but had never found the occasion to wear it, no matter how many times Orielle had asked her to.

  She pulled the dress from the rack and stepped into it, surprised by the lightness of it compared to her other gowns. She turned towards the mirror, pleasantly surprised at the reflection that stared back. It was form fitting and hugged her curves, accenting her in a way she’d never thought possible. She didn’t look like a young girl tonight; instead, she looked like a woman who knew what she wanted.

  She stepped into the hallway and was met by Declan, his arm extended towards her.

  “Princess, you look lovely.”

  “Thank you, Declan.”

  Evan took his arm and began to walk towards the dining hall. There was something oddly comforting in the silence between them. Declan had been her mother’s personal guard before Evan was born and throughout her childhood. He was her protector, her confidant, and her oldest friend.

  “Are you feeling better?”

  “Much,” Evan said.

  “Good. And you’ve given thought to what we discussed?”

  Evan nodded. “I have. I don’t want to let him go, Declan, but I see the wisdom in what you say.”

  Declan smiled. “I’m glad. I know it’s difficult, but it is the right decision. For both of you.”

  As they reached the dining hall, Declan released her arm and bowed to her. It was too formal a gesture for their relationship, and Evan thought it very strange until she turned and saw the room before her.

  There were six round tables, each large enough for ten people. These tables surrounded the long dining table in the middle of the room where the royal family and their selected guests would be seated. There were already a dozen people at the royal table awaiting the arrival of Princess Evannia and Queen Astraea.

  As Evan entered, chairs scraped against the floor and every person in the room stood. She nodded her head towards those she
knew, trying to make eye contact with as many people as possible, as she had witnessed her mother do on numerous occasions. She smiled and waved to the assembly as she made her way to the table, trying not to appear nervous as she did her best not to trip.

  Once she reached the royal table, a servant pulled out the chair for her at the end opposite her mother’s empty chair. Orielle was a few seats away between their cousin, Adra, and their uncle, Arturo.

  “You wore it,” Orielle said, her face beaming.

  Evan returned the smile as Orielle lifted her hand to wave, but Arturo pushed Ori’s hand back to her side. He whispered in Orielle’s ear, and Evan watched her little sister’s smile droop.

  Evan sat, the crowd following suit. She turned to the man on her left and smiled in greeting.

  “Good evening, Lord Winslin,” Evan said. “Where is your lovely wife?”

  “Unable to attend, I’m afraid. But I’ll tell her you asked after her,” he said, his bushy mustache bouncing along his lip.

  Evan felt the sincerity of Lord Winslin every time they crossed paths, and she knew him to be a true friend of the crown. He was one of the few nobles she’d met who talked to her out of enjoyment, rather than as a means to gain her mother’s ear.

  “Please do give Lady Winslin my best and tell her I missed her tonight. Her presence is always treasured.”

  Winslin beamed at the princess, and Evan felt his delight at being called out and his wife praised in front of the others. He wasn’t an overly proud man, but he loved his wife and Evan’s recognition of her filled him with pleasure.

  Evan turned to her right where there was a man closer to her age. He smiled when she turned towards him, and she couldn’t help but notice how classically handsome he was. His brown hair was short and parted to the side, his beard well kempt, and his eyes a sparkling blue.

  “Princess?” he asked with a nervous chuckle. “Are you well?”

  She saw his smile falter and realized she’d been staring too long. “My apologies, sir. You seem familiar. Have we met before?”

  “I am certain we have not. I would remember such an encounter,” he said.

  Evan blushed. He was right though. She would have remembered meeting a man of his caliber.

  “A shame that we are only now having the pleasure of acquaintance.”

  “Indeed it is, Princess. Though perhaps your recognition of me is because of my dear mother. You’ve had the pleasure of her acquaintance through the years, and it has often been said we have the same smile.”

  He motioned down the table to a handsome woman with thick white hair pulled back in an intricate braid. Her features showed no relation to his until she smiled, and Evan saw what he meant.

  “You are Lady Corinth’s son?” Evan asked.

  “Yes. Judas Corinth,” he replied.

  “That explains why we haven’t met. You’ve been landed for the last few years, correct?”

  Evan heard a gasp and turned to see Adra and Arturo’s shocked expressions. Arturo hissed, “Evannia, please. That is an inappropriate conversation for company such as this.”

  Judas leaned towards her and whispered, “You are correct, Princess, I’ve been landed for around four years. I regret that speaking plainly embarrasses our counterparts at the table and limits our choice of subjects.”

  “Inappropriate,” Winslin harrumphed. “Ridiculous to say such a thing.”

  “You disagree with my uncle, Lord Winslin?” Evan asked.

  “Naturally. Lord Winslin is nothing if not disagreeable,” Arturo replied, eliciting a chuckle from those farther down the table.

  Winslin’s face soured as he said, “Perhaps I am disagreeable. But at least I’m not so swayed by the crown I don’t have my own opinions.”

  “What are you trying to say, Victor?” Arturo asked.

  “I’m not trying to say anything, Arturo. I am saying you are a—”

  “Gentlemen, please,” Evan interrupted. “It will not do to lose civility at the Queen’s table.”

  Judas said, “Let us forget this topic and move on to something more enjoyable.”

  “That’s the problem, isn’t it?” Winslin asked. “People are afraid to talk about going to land. Meanwhile, our population dwindles because our kids are running off to find out what we’re keeping secret. If we can’t talk about it here, in the presence of our future queen, when will we have a meaningful dialogue for change?”

  Evan was on the edge of her seat, enthralled by the exchange of words and electrified by the rush of emotion around her, but Judas simply laughed and said, “You sound like a human politician.”

  “What’s a politician?” Evan asked.

  “A blowhard,” Arturo mumbled.

  “Someone chosen by the people to represent them,” Judas said.

  A trumpet rang through the hall. Evan’s ears echoed with the sound of chairs grinding against the floor as every person in the room stood to watch Queen Astraea’s entrance. She moved with impossible grace, gliding through the hall as if she floated on air.

  As she reached the head of the table, she turned to the assembly and said, “Beloved guests, I am honored to have so many in attendance tonight. Each of you has a special place in my heart, and I am delighted to be with you. Please enjoy your evening; eat, drink, talk, dance, and be merry. Poseidon’s blessings upon you!”

  The hall filled with applause and the queen smiled as she sat. Throughout the room, the other guests took their seats, buzzing with excitement about the food soon to arrive. The tense conversation between Winslin and Arturo had faded when the queen arrived, leaving Evan with a slew of questions about what sort of past the two had to create such hostility. She’d seen them together dozens of times over the years, yet she’d never picked up on their dislike of one another. She made a mental note to feel for their emotions at the next council meeting to see if this was an ongoing issue.

  As the people nearby picked up a lighter conversation, Judas leaned towards Evan and said, “I didn’t realize my presence tonight would create such a sensation.”

  Evan smiled. “It has been livelier than normal.”

  “I guess that’s what happens when you’re around a lander.”

  “I’m sorry if I offended you,” Evan said.

  “Not at all,” he replied. “I am not ashamed of my time on land. It was my decision to leave, and mine to return. All that happened between then and now has helped shape me into a better man. Many who go to land cannot say the same upon returning.”

  “Many do not return,” Evan whispered, her voice tinged with sadness.

  Judas stared into Evan’s eyes. With lips barely moving he said, “She’s alive.”

  The words smacked against her brain. In a hushed voice she asked, “Celia?”

  Judas nodded. “I saw her before I returned to the sea. She’s doing well.”

  Evannia smiled with the news, working to control her features. Inside her heart pounded so hard she feared it would burst with the joy she felt. Once someone went to land, it was rare to hear of him or her again. Judas was one of a small percentage who returned, and the words he’d just spoken were priceless to Evan.

  She turned to ask him further about Celia but before she could, she felt someone watching her. She looked up and saw her mother’s eyes trained on her. Evan held her gaze, melting her features into the composed face the Queen required. No excitement, nor joy, no fear or anger; it would not do to show the world her emotions, for her mother regularly warned her that feelings were weakness.

  Evan lifted her glass towards her mother, who returned the gesture, and the two drank simultaneously.

  When the queen broke her gaze, Evan’s eyes drifted around the table. She reached Judas and it was clear he understood he should say no more until they could speak privately.

  A five-course dinner came and went before the queen stood and dismissed the assembly into the ballroom. Evan told her uncle she was exhausted from her unexplained illness earlier in the day and wanted to r
etire early to rest before her trip to the Protean palace the following day. Arturo gave his blessing, reminding her to choose her gowns tonight so a maid could pack them before the morning. With a kiss on the cheek, he sent her on her way.

  Before she left, Judas caught her arm. He escorted her to the door in silence, his rigid shoulders brushing against Evan as they walked. When they reached the door, he took her hand and bent to kiss it.

  “It was a pleasure speaking with you this evening, Princess, but we still have much to discuss. Perhaps later this week?”

  “I will be attending the Protean Ball,” Evan said. “Can I rely on seeing you there?”

  “Of course, Princess. You must save me a dance.”

  “It would be my pleasure, Lord Corinth,” Evan said with a curtsy.

  He opened the door and entrusted her into the care of a guard waiting for her. Evan was thrilled knowing she would soon find out what became of her sister. She was so caught up in her thoughts of Celia and what Lord Corinth may have to tell her she didn’t think twice of the fact that the guard waiting for her was one she didn’t recognize.

  Four

  The new guard was fair-haired and pale, with an upturned nose that made his face look young. When Evan moved to take his arm, she noted the way his eyes traced her figure; guards weren’t supposed to do that, weren’t supposed to give any indication they saw her as anything other than their ruler, but his admiration was clear.

  “Good evening,” she said.

  “Princess,” he said, blinking his eyes as if pulled from a trance.

  Evan blushed and thought perhaps this dress was more flattering than she realized. I wonder what Rafe would think?

  Her breath caught. Rafe. Whatever he thought was of little consequence. His hold on her had been broken, or at least she fought against her feelings to make it so.

  She turned her attention back to the guard. He was handsome in ways unlike Rafe: soft where Rafe was sharp, fair where Rafe was dark. Rafe always seemed to be in pain, even when he was at his most relaxed, but this man…Evan felt the tension running under his skin, the nervous energy pulsing within him.

  Evan smiled, though she felt her own pulse quicken. “What’s your name?”