Parallel (Mortisalian Saga Book 1)

by L. J. Stock

  Looking up, I noted a small ball of fire in my father’s palm, the edges dancing and rising with the eager sounds that seemed to grow with anticipation. The resonance was still a singular entity as it pulled at me, keeping me within its confines.

  “This is fire – the fire of our land and our people. Do you accept it as part of yourself?”

  “I do,” I whimpered quietly.

  I trusted him implicitly with the fire and didn't so much as flinch as he brought the palm with the ball of fire against mine. It was the pulsing deep inside of my body that brought the panic to the surface. My body twisted and I sank to the ground, my forehead touching the cool stone as words I'd never heard in my life, in a language I'd never spoken, fell from my lips.

  The room went silent. No chanting, no breathing, and no rustling of fabric. It was just that pulsing deep inside of me. There was only one word that came to mind when I let myself embrace it and that was acceptance.

  A year ago, I would have laughed at myself for thinking that the world around me was receiving me while I laid my soul bare to it in a ball gown. Yet, here I was, doing exactly that, and I felt like I belonged. I felt the strength inside of me grow as I became part of the world I felt I'd always belonged to.

  It was about that time I realized I hadn't been breathing and sucked in oxygen as though it was going out of fashion. A thunderous applause started in the room and took over the sound of the chanting as it reverberated from the walls and sank in slowly. I felt my father touch the top of my head and looked up, my breathing still labored as I glanced at his outstretched hand.

  “You're home,” he whispered.

  I was, and I could feel it. I'd been open-minded about the ceremony when it had been explained to me, but I'd never, not once, believed that I would feel it down to my very soul. Taking his hand, I fell into his embrace as he pulled me from the ground and into his arms.

  “Speech time.” He chortled, the sound of his humor growing when he felt me stiffen.

  “Can we skip it?” I whispered.

  His rambunctious laughter told me that was a no, and I sucked in more oxygen as the fear set in. I could do this, I reminded myself, attempting to avoid looking at the room full of nobles staring at me. I was determined to do this. It was just talking and I was good at that, even if it was generally laced with sarcasm.

  I turned and looked over the sea of people, trying not to focus on the fact that I hardly knew any of them. I kept my eyes roaming as I stepped forward tentatively, my hand brushing the satin of my dress.

  It was only when I finally locked eyes with Rasmus that the natural smile spread over my lips and I felt myself calm a little. It was just a speech. Just a speech, I had this...

  “Your Royal Majesty, lords, ladies and gentleman, noble men, women, and esteemed members of the dux. I am honored to stand here in front of you today, not just as a representative of my family and ancestors, but also as a member of your society. I address you today as the Princess of Mortisali, and by doing so, I am recognizing my heritage as daughter of the Great King Kyros and ancestor of King Layland. With such auspicious benefactors, I can only promise to follow in their footsteps and be the just and fair ruler of this prominent nation when my time comes.

  “From the moment I discovered my heritage, each and every one of you sought me out to welcome me in some capacity. You have accepted me with open arms and embraced me as the daughter of our king.”

  I took a breath and let my eyes roam a little, my confidence finally growing.

  “You recognized me as your princess, just as you're here to do now. This is not a title I take lightly. It is not a role that I will ever push aside in favor of dalliances. It is my birthright, and I will put every ounce of my being into becoming the leader when it is time to do so. You are my people, a piece of my heart and soul, and I will do everything in my grace and power to lead you into better times.

  “When the legacy of my father ends, and my time to ascend to the throne is upon me, I will be here for my people and will take my rightful place as the constitutional sovereign. So long as there is a breath in my body, for the amelioration and reinforcement of my people, I shall dedicate myself to my inheritance of this great kingdom.

  “As a war ravaged nation, we are broken and have been for a good while. As my father, and his father before him, I will not give into the tyranny of our foes. I will rise against them. I will stand at your shoulders and fight alongside you until the source of our unrest is eradicated. I will fight for each and every one of my people until there is no one hungry or cold. Together, we will rise and grow, and we will overcome the fear of what's before us.

  “I promise to be compassionate and fair, and to be the person you need me to be, as it is my obligation to be. Your faith in me will not be displaced. As I live and breathe, I will be the iron fist against anyone who stands against us.”

  The thunderous applause and shouts of agreement made me stumble backward. My father had asked me to speak from my heart after the official speech that had been written for me and I'd done so. Thinking back on the words I'd uttered, I wasn't sure where it had come from. It had sounded more like a war cry than an accession speech. I was supposed to be accepting my place as princess, not calling out our adversaries for the cowards they were.

  My hands splayed on the front of my corset as the people continued their accolades. The ocean of voices that had been one during the chant became individual pinpoints of encouragement and ratification. I moved my glance to find Rasmus in the endless room of faces and smiled as he gave me the thumbs up, his pride worn on his face clearly.

  “Kneel once more, Cass,” my father whispered from behind me.

  I did as I was told, finding the pillow, once again, conveniently at my feet. I knelt alone this time, gracefully, as I rode the high of the adrenaline rush cruising through my body.

  “My good people,” my father shouted over the din. The silence rolled over the guests until you could hear a pin drop. “I introduce to you, my daughter, Princess Cassandra Regius of Mortisali, ancestor of the just King Layland.”

  I felt the weight of the tiara being placed on my head and had to fight to catch my breath. The moment it was in place, I sought out the one person in the world I wanted to share this with – Damon. Our eyes met and his proud smile seemed to eclipse everything else in the room as my father’s hand was once again offered to me. I glanced at him, and he was smiling broadly again, his fingers squeezing mine. “Almost over.”

  I laughed now, the sound filled with honest emotion. The fear was long gone. In its place were exultation and a large sense of being completely overwhelmed. I was ready for the fun part to begin. As much as I understood that all these formalities needed to happen, they were mentally exhausting. Standing in front of all those people was akin to standing in the middle of Times Square naked.

  My father, still smiling, stepped forward making a gesture with his hand. Seemingly from nowhere, the king’s personal guard gathered and marched forward in a set of regimented lines. The guests stepped to the side, lining the walls as the men made their way to the front of the elevated royal stage. As a precise unit, they knelt, the sound like rolling thunder as it washed over me. Each man moved exactly in time with the others, all of them moving a forearm over their knee and bowing, their foreheads resting on their arms. The deep baritone of their collective voices washed over me as they also spoke in Latin.

  I found myself captivated by the language of their declaration, the whispered translation over my shoulder moving me as they continued.

  “We, the guard of the king, offer our lives and service to you, the sovereign Princess of Mortisali. No harm shall befall you while you are in our care. With our hearts we will love you, with our minds we will worship you, and with our bodies we will protect you. In the name of king and country, we are yours.”

  Next came the praxis of acknowledgment. It was known as “honorifice, re vera, gratanter, semper”. “Respectfully, in truth, with joy, foreve
r.” It was the official oath to the luminary.

  I'd liked to think that I was graceful and humble during the ceremony of the guards as they swore their oath of fealty, but I just couldn't be sure. Having that many men on one knee, all bowed over, was overwhelming to say the least. It was an ocean of gallantry spread out before me, all in perfectly pressed forest green uniforms, and it took my breath away.

  Amongst the guard, I saw men I knew well and others I'd only had small interactions with, but all of them were in the same position. The way they spoke the words with such conviction made small bumps rise on my arms and travel to my neck. I wasn’t the only one, either. The whole room had fallen into silence, all eyes on the men who were respectfully bowing their heads to me in a show of honor and loyalty. If they’d felt half of the awe that I did, I wasn’t sure there would have been a dry eye in the house.

  The magnitude of their words and actions wasn't lost on me. Having the knowledge that these men were putting my life ahead of theirs wasn't something I relished. I'd come to terms with what their service meant, but it didn't mean I took them for granted. It was my responsibility to try and stay out of harm’s way – to save these lives by being more conscious of my own and the situations I put myself into.

  My father nudged me as the last syllable rang out. I was apparently alone on this one, too.

  “Each of you honor me with your oath and rest assured it is not taken lightly. I respect each and every one of you, but I know you have a job to do. So with friendship, love and respect, I thank you for your loyalty and service.”

  Every one of them looked up and grinned at me as though I'd said the wrong thing, until I reached Damon, our eyes meeting over the sea of men telling me it had been exactly the right thing to say. Once I let that sink in, all I could see was pride and thanks in the eyes that shone up at me.

  I had a feeling I was never going to forget this day. Not any of it. Ever.

  Off-Course

  My brain was a mass of thoughts as I stood with that tiara on my head. I was riding a high, one that seemed to leave me light and consistently breathless. I barely noticed the rise of the chatter as people began to converge closer to the small royal stage we were standing on, or the fact that I was shaking like a leaf. The adrenaline had blotted out everything but this ecstatic rhythm that seemed to create a beat of its own.

  Of course, I noticed the moment Damon stepped close to me. He was my guard and my escort for the evening, but it was the heat of the kiss still lingering on my lips that pulled my gaze to him. As aware as I was of what was going on around me, I could feel the electric current pass over my clammy skin the moment he was close enough to touch, and the trembling in my hands took on a whole new meaning. Mainly because, God help me, I wanted to touch him, too. My whole body hummed like a tuning fork as we closed the gap between us. I hadn't expected to feel any of this.

  Standing up on that stage, in front of the most influential people in the kingdom, the sense of belonging was ringing through me with a deafening volume that demanded attention. I wasn't exactly sure what I'd expected to happen. Whether it was just a small nod in acceptance or a quiet ceremony, I wasn’t sure anymore. I just knew this hadn't been anywhere close to my imaginings. Looking over all of the faces as they started to mingle, I finally let my shoulders fall and turned to face my father who looked as though he understood exactly what I was feeling.

  As the music started from the other side of the room, I threw my arms around the king in a rare display of affection. I knew he hadn’t been expecting it when it took him a second to return the embrace. Not that I minded at all. My emotions were simmering too close to the surface, and my stomach was flip-flopping with excitement. I was a real princess, and though it was surreal in so many ways, it was a better feeling than I could have ever imagined it would be.

  In hindsight, no matter how much I’d griped about this process of speeches and balls, the easy part was now over. I had a long road in front of me – days filled with meetings and councils, rules and policies, as well as finding time to fit in a life and find a love that would make me fight harder for the peace we all seemed to be united about. This ball was one night of reprieve before I would seriously consider what was coming.

  I stepped away from my father and grinned. Taking his hand, I followed as he escorted me to the huge table that was running along the back of the dais. There was a large Royal Standard flag over the floor to ceiling windows on one side and the Mortisalian flag on the others. They quivered in the small draft from the windows, the candles in the sconces flickering as though joining in the celebration. I sat to the right of my father, and Damon sat on my right, his back rigid.

  I watched with interest as the guests took their seats at the tables lining the outside of the room, their quiet chatter and occasional glances at me a little unnerving. For the first time, I was able to take in the culmination of hard work the staff had been putting in over the last few days. It no longer looked like the room I'd spent hours fighting in. Now it looked like it was supposed to. The rich brocade wallpaper in the royal colors was complemented by the flowers on the center of each table. Every sconce and candelabra had been shined and polished until they shone and every mirror in the place was spotless, giving the effect of thousands, rather than hundreds, of people in the room. Even the huge curtains had been beaten and fluffed and now hung proudly, acting like sentries to the beautiful scene of the gardens beyond them.

  I could see the glow of the closest fire creeping around the corner at the edge of the palace. Damon had explained their function for me earlier that morning when I’d had the sudden urge to get some air. Fire was sacred to Mortisalians. It represented life. The ceremonial lighting was normally done when the child was born. Beyond the palace, there were villages and towns with fires of their own. When they saw the flames, they would light theirs. It was how news of the birth spread. I was not born tonight, but the way Damon explained it, I’d been born into my role, and I finally understood what he’d meant.

  The flames of these fires now cast shadows as orange light cavorted over the grass beyond it, and as as I'd assumed when I’d seen them dull and lifeless, the huge chandeliers shone like diamonds when they were lit. The crystal was freshly cleaned so the light from the candles swayed inside them and cast rainbows over the ridiculously polished floor. It was just as I'd have pictured a scene like this, and yet more, so much more.

  Leaning back in my seat as the first course of our meal was served, I tried to take everything in and memorize it, including the man sitting next to me. The kiss we'd shared was still fresh in my mind. Every time I thought of it, my lips tingled and my stomach dropped like I was going over a great height without warning. How I was supposed to be with anyone else after that was beyond me, but I refused to think about it tonight, especially not with my father sitting on the other side of me. As I'd said to Damon, I wanted to carry that kiss with me tonight, to keep the memory of an impossible promise close to my heart and draw strength from it when things began to feel helpless again. I didn't want to think about what it meant or where we went from here, at least not until the night was over and dawn brought the slap of reality with it.

  “What are you thinking about?” Damon whispered, his eyes flicking to my father briefly. When I followed his gaze, I realized my dad was invested in talking to one of his closest friends, the Duke Benedict of Arbormontis. I gave Damon a knowing look and though he smiled, he shook his head. “Stop.”

  “I wish I could.” I grinned, picking up my fork and thanking the steward.

  “One night.”

  “Agreed,” I whispered, taking a mouthful and rolling my eyes in pleasure. It suddenly occurred to me that this was the first thing I'd eaten all day. I'd been too nervous to eat breakfast, and lunch had been spent going over rules and procedures. I had to force myself to eat slowly, especially when it was the most amazing thing to have ever graced my taste buds.

  Damon and I didn't talk much beyond polite conversation t
hat anyone would have with an acquaintance they worked with every day. There were too many ears listening in, and I was sitting next to my father, which could have ended disastrously if we'd said one wrong thing. That didn't, however, stop the electricity from crackling between us whenever we got close. It was even worse when we touched. The electricity was like a jolt through my bloodstream, which had a direct line to my heart until I was forced to look down at my meal with more concentration than was necessary. In my defense, as much as I tried to keep my mind on what was going on in front of me, or on the polite conversation from Duke Benedict, all I could focus on was the proximity of the man next to me and what had happened mere hours earlier.

  By the time desserts made their rounds, I was looking forward to what was coming next. Though they would be rolling me around the ballroom with the amount I'd eaten, even if it had all been in the perfectly small portions designed by the kitchen staff.

  My dad leaned over to me, his smile still as broad as it had been when he'd welcomed me up on the platform. His blue eyes twinkled mischievously as he looked at me, Damon, and over to the huge area I was apparently about to grace with my presence. I was excited about my first task as princess. I may not have been the most coordinated person in either of the worlds, but for the first official song after our meal, I was supposed to dance with my escort. I’d been excited about the dance since I’d been told about it. My imagination had run away without me every spare second I’d had, a thousand scenarios playing out in my wildest fantasies. Tonight had already exceeded so many of my imaginary scenarios, that the memory of the kiss was enough to make my fingers tingle with the need to touch Damon. I needed to be near him, to breath in that masculine scent as he held me against him and moved us around the dance floor in our own bubble of privacy. The anticipation made me restless.