Parallel (Mortisalian Saga Book 1)

by L. J. Stock

  I smiled at Rasmus and the genuine way in which he’d imparted the statement with his hand over his heart as he winked at me. I’d never doubted him for a second. His responsibility as a Regius Custos was the only thing he seemed to take seriously. It just stunned me that these men still joined, knowing that their fate would be tied to the monarch, that one day their lives would be put on the line to protect someone else’s. These men were selfless, and with the way they were looking at me, they believed I would be the one to stop their biggest threat – that I was worth the risk.

  No pressure or anything.

  “So the show must go on.” I nodded, offering the best smile I could conjure, still not liking that sinking feeling in my gut as a thousand scenarios played out through my mind. I didn't want to think about how many lives would be lost until I got my act together and figured it all out. I winced as another roll of guilt washed over me. I more than realized I could never have made it work with the baron, but it didn't stop that “what if” trickling into my mind.

  There was a quiet knock at the door, heard only because of the silence in the room as they all waited for me to wrap my head around this new information. As quiet as the sound was, the regimented resonance of all heads turning in the same direction was almost creepy. There were orders to keep anyone not Regius Custos away from the king's wing, and considering they were all here or guarding the hall, and prisoners, the interruption sparked a surge of bodies to step in front of my father and I.

  “Enter,” my father called, projecting his voice as he leaned to the side to see who was actually at the door.

  It took a moment to hear the creaking of the heavy wood opening on its ancient hinges before there was a collective roll of relaxation through the ranks, and I spotted the light halo of my grandmother’s fair hair as she stepped into the room. I could see the shock in her glance as she took in the imposing forces all staring at her with varying levels of curiosity. Most seemed to know who she was, but others seemed encapsulated by her beauty.

  “Acantha, I'm sorry for the welcoming committee. I've been waiting for your return. I am curious as to whether your endeavors were worth your trouble?”

  Acantha had been gone for a week after receiving a message from the king. She hadn’t said much to any of us in the farmhouse, but her refusal to take backup had concerned both Alexa and Zander.

  “They were, Your Highness. I was able to do as you asked. I hope I'm not interrupting?”

  The king coughed once and the crowd of guards dispersed, the men all heading back to their seats or where they'd been leaning against the walls. They watched my grandmother with curiosity, and in some cases, admiration, as she practically floated across the room to my father.

  Acantha watched with amusement as men almost twice her size moved out of her way, the shuffling of feet and muttered apologies all drawing a nod as she headed toward my father, kissing his cheek as he rose to embrace her.

  “King Kyros, always a pleasure to see you.”

  “And you, Acantha.” He offered her his chair, which she declined gracefully.

  “As much as I would like to chat, this is not a social visit. You were right in your assumptions, Milord. There is trouble brewing in several areas. I made a stop in Salarakis. The vates are in sequester, but my sisters were more than welcoming. They've been seeing ships off the coast of the island – ships that are not flying your standard, Your Highness.”

  “Latros?”

  “Yes, and the on and off sightings would suggest some veneficus also.”

  “Not what I wanted to hear,” he said, running his hand over his chin and gripping his beard. He stopped, almost as though he'd caught himself doing it and looked up at Acantha again. “And in Aqusate?”

  “The same, but not quite as many. We've had the same in the air nymph commune, Arbormida. The others seem to be fine, but it may be worth placing some Vis Liberi at each, and I will stick close to Salarakis on the night of the ball if it would please you. I think I would be of best use there.”

  I kept my petty disappointment at her not being at the ball to myself. I'd simply assumed she would be there for this huge thing in her granddaughter's life. I never questioned the security of other people in the grand scheme of things, and even as the guilt riddled me, I realized that it was smart to keep an eye on other assets to the throne and monarchy. I couldn't fault Acantha for wanting to help protect her sisters from what was coming. It was important. Salarakis housed some of the nymph elders, and from what I'd been told, Daphnis still lived there, too. Even as the disappointment settled heavily in my stomach, I forced it all back and focused on what had to be done.

  “I shall have Zander and Alexa at the farmhouse as well as some Vis Liberi to maintain the perimeter, Sire.”

  “Thank you, Acantha. You went above and beyond as always,” the king said, kissing the back of her hand before patting it gently.

  It was only when I felt Damon's hand on my shoulder that I realized I was chewing on my thumb cuticle. He'd told me once that he knew when I was upset and keeping my thoughts to myself, and apparently my tell was worrying my thumb’s cuticle with my teeth. I gave him another mental point for knowing me so well and nodded my head in thanks, which was rewarded with a squeeze of his hand before he removed it, leaving me alone and unanchored once again.

  I knew it was selfish to want everyone to be there at the ball, but this was, as always, bigger than just me. Acantha would be protecting the prophetic nymphs on the island, while Alexa and Zander would be maintaining a safe house for me if the party was crashed. Alexa was also the contact for my mother and brother. I couldn't be selfish enough to take that safety net away from them – not when we weren't sure whether our enemies knew about them or not. No matter how much support I felt I needed, my family was, and always would be, more important.

  I was a big girl, and I could do this. I had to do this. I'd already created enough of a void in turning down the baron and his marriage proposal. If I really wanted to help, I had to set things in motion, which meant getting a damn dress and going through with the ball. It didn't, however, mean I would agree to have four men following me around the palace. If this was going to be my home, I couldn't feel like I had an entourage. Transitions were a difficult thing for me, and the night of the ball was going to be a huge change. I didn't need more.

  I sat through more discussions on how to batten down the hatches and strengthen our perimeters. The men were given their posts and I only got involved again when they revisited the issue of my accompaniment to the ball and tried to force more men on me. I eventually compromised and agreed to stick to Rasmus or Damon like glue no matter what I was doing, a promise I was willing to make considering rebelling could get people killed.

  I stayed seated until all of the guards, aside from our personal few, filtered from the room, all deep in discussion about what needed to be done in the next few weeks. Only when the last was gone did I stand from my chair and embrace Acantha.

  “I didn't know about Diane, Cass. I would have been there.”

  I squeezed her tighter, knowing that she would have been just as hurt at my mom leaving. They'd finally started rebuilding the bridge in their relationship. They'd developed a mutual respect for one another, bonding over the mistakes they'd both made. That Mom had left without saying goodbye had hurt Acantha. I didn’t need to be a mind reader to see that on her gentle features.

  “I don't think she told anyone. She wanted a clean break. I believe it hurt less.”

  “She loves you.”

  “I know that. She did the only thing she could. She knows I'm loved, and she knows you and I have one another to look after.”

  Acantha smiled with pride and cupped my cheek. She turned to look at the king. “One last thing, Your Highness. Cassandra's dress?”

  The king stepped toward me, snaking his arm around my waist and kissing my forehead. “I think Cassandra should pick something of her own. For this ball, she needs to wear something as unique as s
he is.”

  “I'll send Alexa with her then. No need for your royal guards to be put through a mall in our dimension.”

  My father laughed, his eyes on Acantha, assessing her. When he smiled, the soft skin around his eyes creased with mirth. “I sense trouble, Acantha. Diane used to get the same look when she was planning something.”

  “Is it so wrong to want my beautiful granddaughter to be the belle of the ball?”

  “It's her ball, but as long as she's happy, I'm all for it.”

  “Standing right here,” I sang, shaking my head. “On that note, I think I may attempt to sleep for the hour left of night.”

  With a kiss to each of them, I looped my arm through Damon and Rasmus' and let them lead me back through the palace to my room, hoping that Melody liked surprises.

  Every Little Girl’s Dream Come True

  I watched Melody messing with my hair, her teeth burrowed in her bottom lip as she frowned at herself before smiling at my reflection as I eyed her. I'd been taunting her for two weeks about my dress, and she was finally going to see it.

  Alexa and I had taken all of four hours to find the thing. I'd tried it on and fallen in love the moment it hugged my curves. We’d walked away and continued looking after Alexa had convinced me that I should never buy the first thing I laid my eyes on. I honestly tried, but every dress had some flaw – an ugly bow where there shouldn’t be, or some overly fancy twist of material that made me look like I had three boobs. After a couple of hours of trying, I saw nothing that appealed to me as much as that first dress. So I'd bought it, and spent at least ten minutes a day in the thing, staring at the mirror and trying to see a princess in myself.

  Melody had been disappointed that she hadn't had the chance to design the dress. I'd been sneaking her all kinds of fashion magazines over the past months, because she wanted to incorporate some of my dimension’s styles into my Mortisalian fashions. I didn't think I'd ever forget the first time she saw a pair of shorts. This, inevitably, led to a conversation about shaving legs, which turned out to be a torture in any dimension and led me to bringing her disposable razors, because the thought of shaving legs with a flat blade like Sweeny Todd's just wasn't appealing to me.

  Needless to say, when it came to my dress, I gave nothing away. To keep Melody on her toes, I'd brought it over in a garment bag only hours earlier, and she'd been giving the thing a consternating stare ever since. Even Thetis and Penthea had been eyeing it suspiciously, but I suspected that was because of the bag that covered it. I wasn’t entirely convinced they didn’t think that was the dress.

  “It's just a dress, Mel.”

  “Yes. Just a dress,” Melody said with a tone that clearly stated it was so much more than just a dress. She eyed me, her expression filled with impatience.

  “Fine. You can open it now.”

  Melody froze, her lips slowly curling into a smile as she placed the last pin in my hair and beamed. Twirling on the spot, she almost sprinted to the huge garment bag hung on the room divider. I turned on the stool and watched as she unzipped the bag, the red satin shining as it was revealed into the subtle light of the room.

  Melody's hand ran over the material and around the back of the huge skirt to liberate it from the confines of the bag, her appreciation worn in every stroke of the fabric and sigh of utter contentment. The bodice had ties that wrapped around the stiff material of the corset. It was anything but traditional because they circled around the whole bodice, front to back several times over, making an interesting pattern. The huge skirt was akin to a hoop skirt seen in the eighteenth century, though it hung freely with a short train. It was a ball gown to end all ball gowns and it was a one of a kind. My own sigh blended with Melody’s second.

  “Cass, it's... It's befitting of a princess like you. You're going to be the sole focus of every eye in the ball.” I didn’t think she even realized how much that statement scared me; her attention was split between the dress and the other two ladies as she nodded between it and them.

  I swallowed and turned on the stool, my whole body facing her as my leg started tapping compulsively. “Oh, I really wish you hadn't said that.”

  Melody smiled and stepped away from the dress hesitantly, her fingers lingering on the material until she was completely out of reach. She moved across the space with as much enthusiasm as she had on the way over there. In front of me, she lowered herself to her knees and gripped my hands in hers.

  “You have nothing to fear, Cass. You're beautiful, you’re capable and you’re taking your rightful place in this world. You belong there. You're kind, and you’re compassionate and passionate about our people. You look at this world with open eyes and all you want to do is help. This ball – it's just a ceremony that acknowledges your birthright. It's letting our enemies know that, no matter what they throw at us, we will always fight for what’s good and right, and we will always embrace our monarchy and our traditions because we refuse to be dictated to.”

  I smiled down at her and nodded. “Right. Just a ceremony.”

  Melody rolled her eyes at me and stood, squeezing my hand before making a turn around gesture with her finger. I laughed when I faced the mirror again and caught her looking over her shoulder at the dress..

  Relaxing into the stool, I tried not to think about what was going to happen that night and focused on anything else. Mainly the idle chatter of the women around me as I realized they would be stuck in my chambers waiting for me to return.

  “You know, there's a secret passage in here that will let you watch some of the ball without being spotted,” I said conspiratorially, avoiding my reflection. “If I was coming back to the room, you'd see me pass. It opens into the castra kitchens.”

  “No,” Thetis said, before I could even point it out. “We have been told to stay in this room and that's what we shall do.”

  Penthea gave the woman a look behind her back before wiping her face clear of reaction as Thetis turned at my giggle. Penthea was warming up to me and had been for the last few weeks. She'd even been alternating between Cass and Milady more often.

  “Make all the faces you want, ladies, but this is about safety and effectiveness.”

  Throwing up my hands in surrender, I gave the other two an apologetic smile. I wasn't going to argue with the protocol for the evening, especially if it put any of them in danger.

  Melody gave me an understanding smile and headed toward the dress, motioning for me to follow. A glance at the other women suddenly springing to action told me that my short respite before the ball was coming to a fast close. Once I was in the dress, it would be time to go.

  It didn't take long to get into the gown. The lacing of the corset, however, was a completely different matter. Three sets of hands worked around me – two pulling the front so the laces stayed flat but taut, and Melody at the back, pulling them ever tighter, until the damn thing was literally hugging me, my breasts high and propped up.

  After sufficient fluffing of the skirt, and after being helped into my heels, I was turned to a huge mirror and abandoned by the three women as they stepped back to take me in. For a moment, I wasn't entirely sure I was even looking at myself. My cheeks were high in color, my eyes were slightly darker with the subtle make up they'd applied, and my hair was held back from my face but cascaded over my shoulders in large, soft curls.

  The biggest difference, however, was my figure. I didn't really take much notice of myself in dresses as a rule. I generally hated them. This one… Well, this one was different. The rich red of the dress seemed to compliment my dark hair, the corset making my waist small while my breasts looked more ample than they'd ever been. Trying it on alone, I'd never managed to tighten it the way it was supposed to be, and now I could see the difference. I finally saw a princess staring back at me.

  “Cass?”

  I looked up, realizing they'd been speaking to me. Blushing, I ran my hands over the satin of the skirts and nodded. “Sorry, miles away.”

  “You should
go. Before they start to worry you're not going.” Melody laughed, turning me toward the door and nodding in the direction of it.

  I shook myself off and nodded in agreement, picking up the skirts as I headed to the exit. I felt like I was forgetting something. I was still lost in the image seared into my head. I couldn't focus on anything other than putting one foot in front of the other. It should have been easy.

  As I pulled open the doors, the guard, who'd been replaced by men from the king's army for the evening, bowed in recognition. They stepped to the side with their eyes on the ground. As much as I appreciated the gesture, because they weren't my usual guards, it unnerved me.

  By the time I reached the end of the small corridor, I almost wished I hadn't insisted on meeting Damon at the bottom of the Grand Stairway. Hell, I wasn't sure I was going to make it down the damn thing without breaking my neck. A combination of nerves and heels had the possibility of being lethal. At least Rasmus would be meeting us in the ballroom and wouldn’t see my utter failure.

  By the time I reached the top of the curving stairs, I had almost convinced myself to run back to my room and hide. It seemed easier than having to do the whole speech thing in a room full of noble families. Having been warned of their propensity to be judgmental, I wasn't exactly encouraged. Leaning over the top balustrade, my eyes found Damon and every thought I had seemed to fade into the ether.

  Standing tall in his forest green dress uniform, he paced back and forth, ten steps in each direction before spinning on his highly shone shoes and repeating in the opposite direction. I knew how many steps he took because I counted them, his regal gait mesmerizing as he clasped his hands behind his back, pushing out his well decorated chest. There was no denying he was agitated, but I was late, so that was no surprise. I often tried to remind him that you couldn’t be late to your own party, but he never saw the humor in it and lectured me about the intricacies of perfect timing and schedules, getting grumpy when I feigned a yawn. I only waited three more breaths before I pushed back from the rails, straightened my spine and picked up my skirts before skipping down the stairs with an excitement I hadn’t known was there. My fear was pushed to the back of my mind as the thought of a few moments alone with him eclipsed everything else.