by Bo Burnette
Eamon came before the throne, bowing slightly. He motioned toward the others to join him on either side. Ilayda and Brallaghan went to his right, with Orlando following them. That left the left side for Philip, Erik, and Arliss.
Eamon bowed all the way, going down onto one knee. Philip followed his example, and the others quickly knelt as well. Arliss smoothed out her dress as she bowed her head. How did she feel about this? She’d never bowed to anyone in her life. Everyone always bowed to her.
The music boomed into a powerful crescendo before falling into silence.
“Rise.” The king finally spoke.
Eamon rose, and again, he motioned for the others to mimic him. “King Merwin, Queen Merna, I present to you my guests from the clan of Reinhold.”
A sharp murmur rolled over the crowd like a wave. People whispered behind hands and fans as a single word hissed through the throne room from front to back.
Reinhold.
King Merwin let his hands fall to the sides of his marble throne as he examined his guests. “Welcome to Anmór.”
Chapter Twenty-four: Acquainted with Anmór
ARLISS TRIED TO STIFLE THE RISE AND FALL of her chest as she stood, the impossibility of the situation washing over her like a wave.
She had suspected it was Anmór all along; however, having someone say it out loud made it a thousand times more alarming.
Anmór. The largest of the three clans. The warriors, the architects, the linguists. The noble, the proud, the domineering. All her life she had read tales of them, thinking Anmórians to be of no more account than magical exploding flowers. How wrong she had been!
King Merwin studied her from his throne. He nodded, as if to greet her, then shifted his gaze to Arliss’s right. His eyes fell on Orlando. Something flashed behind the deep dark of the king’s pupils—a strange glimmer that confused her.
Then he stood, motioning around the hall. “Friends, countrymen, guests! We welcome you to this great Autumnal Feast as we pass from autumn into winter. Dance, eat, drink, and be merry!”
His words produced instant effect. Guards departed their posts at the pillars and started rolling up the carpet that cut through enormous room. The guests milled between the pillars and into what had been the wide, carpeted walkway. Now it had been transformed into a dance floor. The floor itself shimmered with a sort of milky sheen; it was inlaid with swirling designs in mother-of-pearl.
Servants wheeled rolling trays of food and drink into the room. The tantalizing smells of olives and apples and pork and wine wafted to Arliss’s nostrils. Lunch—or a little bite, as Eamon had called it—now seemed an eternity ago.
She turned her head back around to her friends and to the two monarchs, who had descended the pedestals of their thrones.
Queen Merna turned her gaze on Arliss and attempted to smile. At least, Arliss assumed it was supposed to be a smile. It certainly didn’t look friendly, or even cheering—more hungry and threatening. And Merna seemed to be eyeing her necklace.
Arliss decided straightaway she would avoid Merna the rest of the evening.
Eamon took Arliss’s hand and led her aside for a moment. “If you notice anything suspicious, come find me. I’ll be here somewhere. And trust me, I will come do the same for you.”
“And what will you be doing?”
“Looking for answers.”
“Answers to what questions?”
He released her hand. “The same ones you’ve been asking.”
Arliss nodded, then watched as Eamon disappeared in the crowd.
All the company—including Orlando—hung about her as if to see what she would do. She shrugged in response to their unspoken question. “I’ve never been to a party half this size before. I don’t know what to do.”
Orlando laughed, then extended his hand, still covered in the green gloves which left his fingertips bare. “It’s quite simple. You eat a little food, drink a little wine, and…”
“And what?” Arliss tilted her head.
“You dance.” He jerked her away from the group.
She gasped as he waltzed her across the shining floor. She cast a pleading look toward Ilayda, but her friend was already being dragged to the dancing herself—by Brallaghan. Philip had slipped away. Erik returned her imploring glance with a helpless shrug.
She huffed as Orlando slipped his palm around her waist and intertwined the fingers of his other hand with hers. It could have been worse, she considered. At least she wasn’t stuck having to talk to that Merna woman. Eamon had spoken ill of her earlier, and simply based on her demeanor, Arliss suspected she wouldn’t like her much better.
Furthermore, she could have suffered through an obligatory dance with Philip, once again forced to ponder their ambiguous feelings towards each other. She clenched her teeth. Even the friction between them was beginning to feel stagnant.
Arliss bit her lip. And she danced with Orlando.
The dancers swayed gently, though a hint of urgency and mystery belied the tune. Arliss finally brought herself to look Orlando in the eye and found a smile. Not a smirk: a true smile, true as sunlight.
She smiled back as they drifted across the marble floor.
After some moments, Orlando demonstrated a skill that even the most amateurish of dancers must sooner or later achieve: talking while dancing. “What do you think of the party?”
“I think it’s beautiful.” Her pinky finger twitched in his grip. “And enormous. I almost don’t know what to think.”
“Then don’t think anything. Just dance.” He spun her around and back into his arms.
“I can’t stop myself from thinking. It’s chronic.”
“I’ve noticed that. It gets tedious, doesn’t it?”
“Not at all. Thoughts are a gift—our private gift from God, that we sometimes share with others.”
His eyes narrowed. “Why do you keep bringing God into everything?”
“How could I not? He made me, and he made my life, and he crafted every single one of my adventures specifically for me.” She eyed him. “You’ve read the Scriptures, haven’t you? You know of Jesus.”
“I know enough.” He shifted his hand on her back as they floated along. “You still haven’t seen enough of the world. Once you see enough death, enough suffering, you realize the truth. And you ask yourself—if God is so good, why all this mess?”
Arliss kept swaying, her arms tensing beneath the detached sleeves.
Orlando spun. “I’ve told you about my life, how my mother vanished long ago, how I never met my father, how I was raised an orphan and a wanderer. But at least that life has shown me the truth. Unlike yours. Yours is a lie—a fantasy.”
“Are fantasies and lies synonymous?” Arliss tilted her head as they continued swirling. Not far from her, Ilayda laughed. “You think you know the truth, but you don’t. You’re trying to explain your sufferings only through the sufferings themselves.”
He twirled her again. “How else can they be explained? Why is there evil in the world?”
She spun back towards him. “If there was no evil, would we recognize good? If there was no darkness, would we know light?”
Orlando’s lips parted with words unspoken. The dance ended, and he bowed to her before stepping away to the tray of drinks at the far right of the room. Arliss didn’t follow.
The green silk gown swished around her heels as Arliss drifted behind the pillars to the left, stealing glimpses across the room. Ilayda and Brallaghan were still dancing as Erik looked on, taking frequent swigs from a narrow glass. Philip was dancing uncomfortably with some Anmórian girl. Eamon was nowhere at all.
And Merna? Not in sight.
Behind her someone, cleared his throat. Arliss whirled around to find a kindly stranger, a tall man with a narrow face and a graying beard. A long tunic hugged his strapping body and draped nearly to his knees. He held two silver-edged goblets, one of which he handed to her.
“You are one of the guests from the clan of Reinhol
d?” The stranger’s voice was calm, but she knew a tinge of curiosity lay beneath his words.
She glanced into the goblet. “I am Princess Arliss of Reinhold.”
The stranger smiled, bowing slightly. “Allow me the pleasure of introducing myself to you, Princess Arliss. I am Sir Harrison of Ikarra, ambassador for the throne of Ikarra.”
Arliss’s hand shook around the goblet, and she used her other to steady it. “Ik—Ikarra?”
“Yes, Ikarra.” Harrison offered a smile, curiosity still plaguing his voice. “Does that surprise you?”
Arliss inhaled and caught his eyes. Rather, his eye. One was shiny and lifeless, clearly a replica.
What sort of story did this man have, to have lost an eye? What kind of life had he lived? He looked kind enough—and he wasn’t Anmórian—but could she trust him? His voice had a curious accent, similar to Orlando’s or any of the others in this long hall, but thicker and deeper. He said the a’s in “Ikarra” more like “ah.”
She took a sip of wine. “It does surprise me. I think it would surprise you, too, if you’d been through everything I’ve been through.”
Harrison’s eyebrows clenched together. “Have the Anmórians treated you poorly?”
“No, not at all. But I am…” She hesitated. Of course she was suspicious of the Anmórians. But she couldn’t tell Harrison that, no matter how kind he might seem. Not until she knew more.
He stared at her. “You’re suspicious of them.”
She shrugged. “It’s not because they have done me any harm. It’s because of who I think they may be connected with them.”
“And whom might that be?”
“I’d rather not say.”
“Very well.” Harrison nodded. “So, we are both ambassadors of a sort?”
“I guess you could say that. My mission did not start out as such, though.”
“What was your mission?” He raised his goblet. “Provided you’re comfortable sharing it.”
Arliss relaxed. Here was someone who would listen to all she had to say—and furthermore, someone who actually wanted to hear what she had to say. “My mission was one of exploration. I was trying to explore the ruins on the Isle of Light.”
Harrison nodded. “An interesting mission indeed! That isle has been abandoned for nearly a century.”
Arliss gaped. The rest of the world had been blind to Reinhold’s existence. “No, it hasn’t been abandoned. In fact, only thirteen years ago, the clan of Reinhold called it home. Now we live on the mainland, across the sea.”
Harrison almost dropped his goblet. “You’ve got to be ruddy joking! All these years, and Reinhold lives on, under our very noses?”
She laughed. “And all this time, the rest of the world lives on under ours.”
“So you didn’t know we existed?”
“Ikarra was no more than a legend to me until now. Even now, Ikarra is no more than one person. You.” She carefully scanned the crowd behind him for Queen Merna. No sign of her. Good. “What is your mission, then, Sir Harrison?”
“As I said, I’m an ambassador for the crown of Ikarra. I am here with the intention of strengthening relations with Anmór, on behalf of Princess Orlianna of Ikarra.”
“Orlianna. What a lovely name.”
“Not half so lovely as the one who bears it. ’Tis a shame she’s not here. You’d get along quite well.”
Arliss smiled. “I feel I can trust you, so if you say so, I’m sure we would.”
His brow furrowed again. “I hope you can trust me. There are not many trustworthy souls in the land of Anmór. Be watchful, Princess Arliss, and be wary. And if you ever need our aid or our counsel, Ikarra would be more than willing to reignite the old friendship between our clans.”
She started to offer her gratefulness, but his eyes suddenly grew wide. He stared past her with a subtle dip of his chin.
“Well, I found you!” Swathed in chartreuse silk, Merna clearly wanted to make a scene. “It took me a while in all this rabble, but I found you!” She let out a chortling laugh.
“Yes, you found me.” Arliss managed an insincere chuckle as she examined the queen of Anmór.
Merna was a bit taller than her, though that had more to do with a pair of outrageous heels than anything. Her face captured Arliss’s attention most. She looked like she had swallowed too many rumors and was having trouble keeping them down.
Still leering, she slipped her arm through Arliss’s. “Go on, Sir Harrison, let us be. We two ladies would like to talk, wouldn’t we, Princess Arliss?”
“Oh yes.” Arliss swallowed.
Harrison nodded, then stepped back and bowed slightly. “Remember my promise, Arliss.”
“I won’t forget. And send my regards to Orlianna.”
“I won’t forget, either.”
Merna stared after him as he crossed the dance floor to the other side of the room. “Those Ikarrans are interesting, aren’t they?”
“He was very nice.” Arliss wriggled in Merna’s clutch. “I enjoyed speaking to him.”
Merna let out a half-snort. “Most people seem very nice, at first. It’s a mask, dear.”
“Don’t we all wear masks sometimes?”
Merna stopped smiling and released Arliss’s arm. “Yes…yes, we do.” She chortled again. “I like you, dear!”
“You’ve hardly met me.” Arliss forced a prim look.
“Well, you just know, with some people!” Merna sipped at her glass. “Let’s be friends, shan’t we?”
“How about we get to know each other first?”
“Very well. Tell me about your family.”
“I have parents,” Arliss said.
“How unusual!” Merna laughed, her breath fumed with alcohol. “So did I, when I was your age! And your parents, they are the king and queen of your little clan?”
“They are.” Arliss put on her coldest stare. “Our kingdom has been growing much lately.”
“Has it, now? And you have siblings?”
“None.” Arliss swallowed the burning pain in her chest. “What about you—your family?”
“I have a sister, the former queen of Ikarra. She hates me—hates me, I tell you! It’s hilarious.” Merna stifled a noisy laugh with a swig of wine, casting a glance at Arliss’s moon necklace. “I have one son, Ríon, but you won’t see him around much. And, of course, you’ve been introduced to my husband the king. Merwin gets most of the praise and I do most of the work in this kingdom. But that’s how it usually is, isn’t it dear?” She put a hand on Arliss’s shoulder and snugged her closer, another giggle escaping her lips.
“Not in Reinhold. My parents share the job of ruling the land, both doing what they can do best.”
“Merwin and I can’t do that. We’d murder each other!”
“It helps that my parents love each other.”
“Love,” Merna repeated. “What a funny word it is. We all want it, don’t we? To be ‘in love.’ To find ‘true love.’ But it’s only a pretty dream. No one really loves, at least not people who are married to each other.”
“Why else would they stay married?” Arliss stepped away from her, heading for the corner of the room. Merna followed.
“Because they have no choice. And being married brings more advantage than not. Because of my marriage, I am queen. Is that not reason enough?” She accepted another glass of wine from a passing servant. “I hope you don’t think I grudge my own husband. But no one can expect anyone to stay ‘in love’ their whole life. Think of it, dear—attached to one person, no matter what may come, never being allowed to love another.”
“Isn’t that what marriage is?” Arliss asked.
Merna put a hand on her shoulder. “Dear girl, you are young. Sooner or later you will find out that, although you may fall in love on one day, you will find yourself falling out of love the next.”
Arliss’s looked toward the dance floor, her eyes alighting on Philip. “I am not as young in love as you think.”
�
�Really?” Merna’s voice grew higher. “I suspected as much. If you feel differently about someone than you did when you first fell in love, it is true that you likely are not in love anymore. But it’s not the end of the world. There’s always someone else. And when you’re done with them, you can come back to him—the true him.”
Arliss bristled. “That’s living a lie.”
Merna shook her head. “It’s living a truth—your truth. That’s what matters, isn’t it?”
Arliss stepped back, out from under the woman’s grasp. “Maybe we’re not meant to feel the same way for always. Maybe we’re meant to change, to grow. To go deeper.”
Merna peered at her curiously. “What a strange young woman you are.”
“I’ve been told so many times.” Arliss strode away from Merna and into the crowd.
Chapter Twenty-five: Diverging Paths
THE MUSIC SOARED TO A DRAMATIC HALT. ILAYDA curtsied to Brallaghan, who bowed to her, both of them honoring their partner. Brallaghan offered his hand and led her off the floor, which seemed to practically glow in the candlelight. He walked stiffly and winced whenever he turned, but he was managing despite the pain.
Ilayda caught her breath deep in her lungs, her heart tensing beneath the snug purple bodice. She’d never enjoyed a dance so much in her life. What’s more, they seemed to have evaded Anmórian suspicion thus far. She’d even seen Arliss chatting away with the queen.
Brallaghan led them behind one of the pillars. The columns were of immense girth. They could easily lean against one and not be seen by someone on the other side of the room. What she had confused for curling stripes on the columns were actually fresh grapevines full of fruit. The vines had been wrapped around the pillars to double as both decorations and refreshments.
Ilayda collapsed against the pillar, laughing. “This has been fun, hasn’t it?”
He smiled, too, then his face melted into a frown.
“What is it?” Her smile vanished as well.
“I cannot enjoy myself. Not now. I don’t know where my father is. I don’t even know if he’s alive.”