Jala's Mask

by Mike Grinti

  Will you still love me now that you’ll be king? The words had been with him as he visited each of the four families, running through his head each time he danced with another would-be queen. Before, it hadn’t even been a question, but now . . .

  What was he thinking? That he could love this Bardo girl? It was ridiculous. He’d only just met her. He couldn’t really feel . . . whatever it was he thought he felt. Why did I kiss her like that? He shouldn’t have. He shouldn’t have told her all those things about being king, about Jin. He’d even almost told her about Kona. He was tired of this whole thing. He just wanted to be home again.

  He tried not to think about Jala. About the way her hips moved when she danced with him. About the way she smiled. The way her chest and stomach pressed into him when they kissed. The way she said surprising things that made him laugh or stop to think.

  A banging on the door startled him. “Azi, open up,” his uncle shouted.

  “All right, all right, keep it down,” Azi said as he stood and unbarred the door.

  Lord Inas shut the door behind him, then took hold of Azi’s shoulders and laughed. “You did your uncle proud today, boy. You should have seen Mosi’s face when he heard about his daughter. Can’t say anything when we turn him down, now, can he? I don’t know when you got it into your head to try a scheme like this, but I’m glad you did.”

  Azi pulled away from his uncle and turned to face the window. A few fires still burned, and some of the drummers kept on playing even though the celebration was supposed to be over.

  “It wasn’t on purpose,” Azi said. “I didn’t mean to get her in trouble with her family. What does it matter anyway, when you planned for me to marry that Rafa girl even before we started this trip?”

  “Well, whether you meant it or not, it’s happened,” Lord Inas said with drunken cheerfulness.

  “What will happen to her?” Azi asked. Why do I care what happens to her? There was just something about the way she’d kept arguing with him, the way she’d kept forgetting to act subdued in front of him. She wasn’t even the most beautiful girl he’d seen traveling, but she couldn’t hide the fire in her eyes.

  “Oh, she’ll probably marry some rich lord as soon as we’re gone. Nothing we need to worry about, eh?”

  “What if I want to worry about it?” Azi said. “What if I don’t want everyone saying I tricked her?” What if I don’t want to marry a quiet girl who’ll do whatever I say? Or is that whatever you say, Uncle? “What if I want to marry Jala? What would you say to that?”

  Lord Inas laughed again. “I’d say you’re a fool.”

  Azi clenched his fists. “I’m king, aren’t I?” he whispered. “If I want to marry Jala, then I’ll marry her. It’s my decision, and hers. Your hatred for Lord Mosi isn’t mine, and I won’t ignore Jala because of it.” He thought of the look on her mother’s face when Jala had called him out on being bored. Even now it made him want to smile.

  Lord Inas scowled at Azi. “You’re letting your mast steer the ship, boy. She may be nice to look at, but she’s Bardo. Mosi only cares about his own family and his own power. You know why you have to marry that wretched Rafa girl! Dry hells, boy, I’ve had too much wine to lecture you. Do your uncle a favor and forget her. It shouldn’t be hard, you’ll never have to see her again once we’ve left in the morning.”

  Never see her again. The words rang in his head. “Fine,” Azi said. “But I want her to hear it from me. I want everyone to hear that I never meant to trick her.”

  “There’s no reason to make a spectacle out of it.”

  “I am king, aren’t I, Uncle? Do this one thing for me.”

  His uncle smiled crookedly. “Of course, you are king. I’ll have her brought to you first thing tomorrow morning.”

  Jala didn’t sleep much that night. When she woke the next morning, her mother hovered over her bed offering leftover spice cake for breakfast. “How are you feeling?”

  Jala’s father came in a moment later. “Is she up?”

  “What’s going on?” she asked, pushing away the cake.

  Her mother perched on the edge of the bed and patted Jala’s arm. “We just wanted to make sure you weren’t blaming yourself for any of this. We know it’s not your fault. The boy clearly fell for you.”

  “It’s that damn traitorous Lord Inas,” her father agreed. “He’s scared of us, wanted to refuse this marriage before he ever arrived. This is just an excuse, meant to embarrass our family. I wouldn’t be surprised if he put the boy up to it.”

  He wouldn’t, Jala told herself, though she had no proof. That kiss was real. It had to be. What would she do now? All her life she’d hoped to be queen one day, then in a single night it was all gone. She’d failed. Her parents said they didn’t blame her, but why else were they barging in on her before she’d even had breakfast?

  Marjani came to her after they left, dutifully reporting everything the servants were saying. Word had already spread that Jala would not be queen. Some said that she had seduced the king, like Lord Inas claimed, while others said the king had lured her outside with false promises.

  “They sound so smug,” Jala said. “Are they glad to see me look like an idiot? You’d think they’d want me to be queen.”

  Marjani put her arm around Jala’s shoulders. “They don’t really mean it. You know how people like to gossip. Some of them are mad at the Kayet and have been telling horrible stories about the king’s uncle.”

  “It was just a kiss,” Jala whispered, leaning her face against her friend’s shoulder. “Just one long, stupid kiss. I would’ve stopped it soon enough.”

  They sat in silence. After a time, Marjani asked, “So . . . how was it?”

  “Not worth losing a throne for,” Jala said.

  “You’re a terrible liar sometimes.”

  “I’m not lying,” Jala protested, but her cheeks felt too warm. It wasn’t just the kiss, or the throne. Had she only imagined the way he’d watched her? Did he talk to everyone the way he talked to her? Maybe telling her about his family had just been his way of getting her defenses down.

  She should have nodded politely, said kind things to him, told him she was sure he’d make a perfect, handsome king, the way her mother wanted her to. Why was it so hard to pretend around him? Why did he make her want to say what she really thought even when it could ruin everything?

  Someone knocked on the door. “My lady, the king requests your presence.”

  Jala looked at Marjani, but her friend held up her hands as if to say, I haven’t heard anything. Jala opened the door. One of her maids stood uneasily outside the door.

  “What’s wrong now?” Jala said.

  “The king and his uncle have requested your presence. Your parents are waiting for you in the greeting hall.” The girl hesitated, and Jala could tell she didn’t want to say more.

  “Well?” Jala asked. “How did the king look?”

  “I didn’t see the king, but Lord Inas looks very pleased with himself,” she said softly. “I’m sorry, my lady.”

  Jala sighed and looked down at herself. “I’m not dressed to see the king, but I don’t suppose that matters now.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Marjani said.

  Jala helped her friend up, then hugged her quickly before leading the way to the king’s rooms. What can he possibly want with me now?

  She met her parents in the main hall. It was empty now except for the king’s uncle, their assorted guards, and a few Kayet hangers-on. She was almost glad Lord Inas was here. She could tell her mother and father wanted to lecture her, and she wasn’t in the mood.

  “The king wishes to speak to you once more before we depart,” Lord Inas said.

  Jala’s heart sank. It was what she’d expected, but somehow she’d hoped. That he changed his mind? That he’d disobey his uncle? The best she could hope for was that he’d sail away without pouring salt into the wound, but it looked like even that wasn’t going to happen.

  “You must ap
ologize to him,” her father hissed as they made their way to the king’s guest room. “Or Inas will have him hold this over us for years to come. Dry hells, girl, it would have been better if you’d just stayed in your room.”

  Lord Inas knocked on the door, and a minute later the king strode out. He’d dressed in his finest robes of white and purple and spun gold. He looked magnificent. Was he trying to make her feel worse than she already did?

  Marjani flashed Jala a reassuring smile. Jala stepped forward and gritted her teeth, ready to apologize. But why should she apologize? The thought came unbidden to her, and just as quickly she realized her apology wouldn’t make any difference anyway. If the king had already let his uncle talk him out of marrying her, assuming he’d ever seriously considered her at all, then nothing she said now would make a difference.

  She took a deep breath and looked up, meeting Azi’s eyes. For a moment she found herself distracted by them. They were so dark that from far away they seemed black, but up close, in the firelight, they were a deep, melancholy brown.

  “I’m not sorry you kissed me,” she said. She ignored the whispering from those who had gathered to watch. “I’m not sorry I kissed you back. And I won’t be made to feel like I did something wrong, because I didn’t. If that means you no longer care about me, that’s your choice.”

  She retreated to stand beside Marjani without letting go of his gaze. “I do think you’ll make a good king, once you accept that it’s what you are.”

  The whispers were louder now. Jala knew that soon she’d feel embarrassed for everything she said, soon her mother would be sympathetic and condescending, soon her father would rage against Lord Inas and the Kayet. Soon this moment would be over, and she would want to cry.

  She meant to leave before that happened. Without waiting for the king to respond, she turned to go. But before she could take a step, he was beside her. He put a hand on her arm, gently, so gently she couldn’t have broken free with all her strength.

  “I do care about you,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “I want to marry you. Before I leave the Second Isle. Right now, if that’s what you want.”

  Marjani gasped. Jala could only stare, unable to believe she’d heard right.

  “Azi!” the king’s uncle hissed.

  The king spoke louder, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Jala of the Bardo. I would marry you and make you queen. Will you have me?” He turned his back on his uncle and stared straight at her.

  Lord Inas swore loudly and turned to Jala. “You were never meant to be queen. You’ll have no friends among the Kayet, no allies among the other families. He’ll learn to despise you soon enough. You’ll be alone, surrounded by enemies.”

  But Jala wasn’t worried about what the other families thought. She was thinking about being queen and about the way Azi’s lips had tasted when he kissed her.

  “I will,” she said. “I accept you. I’ll marry you. I’ll be your queen.”

  The room seemed to be spinning. People crowded around her and the king. Somewhere nearby her father laughed.

  The king took her hand and squeezed it briefly. He looked around at Marjani and Jala’s parents and the guards and his uncle. “I present to you your queen. Queen Jala of the Five-and-One Islands.”

  Everything fell silent. Then Jala’s mother shrieked with happiness and threw her arms around her. Her bony fingers dug into Jala’s back. “You did it,” her father hissed in her ear. “You actually did it. My little queen!”

  And suddenly everyone seemed to be saying it. “My queen.”

  Finally her father’s laughter broke through the chaos. “The look Lord Inas gave me was hot enough to burn the fire mountain herself. If he had a sand-grain’s weight of sorcery in him I’d have died on the spot, but luckily the only thing in him is last night’s drink. I’m almost content just seeing it happen once.” He grinned at Jala. “Almost, but not quite.”

  Jala smiled back because they were celebrating, but her father’s laughing words felt heavy in her chest. Her father wasn’t the one who was going to be living with Lord Inas. She didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to listen to her father’s gloating right now.

  “I have to change,” Jala said a little desperately. “A queen can’t be seen looking like this.”

  “Not even queen for a day and already vain,” her father teased, laughing. But then he leaned forward and whispered to her. “You’ve always looked like a queen to me. Don’t forget that.”

  She held on tightly to Marjani’s hand as they led her back to her room, then pulled her friend inside the room before shutting the door. Her father’s words had already faded to the back of her mind, replaced by the thousand other thoughts screaming for attention, only to be pushed aside a moment later.

  “So is the new queen going to give me my hand back?” Marjani said, tugging at the hand Jala still clutched tightly.

  “No, the new queen is not,” Jala said in her best imperious tone. It still took her two tries to get the words out. She pressed her head against Marjani’s arm and laughed. “It’s like I’ve forgotten how to breathe.”

  “You’re breathing right now,” Marjani whispered.

  “What if I’m dreaming right now? What if in a moment I’ll wake and it’ll be this morning all over again?”

  “And he’ll still pick you, and you’ll still be queen. Do you want me to pinch you?”

  “No. If it’s a dream, it better stay around for a while. At least long enough for me to kiss Azi again. In fact, it can just skip right to that part.”

  Marjani laughed weakly, but she looked away. “Are you scared?” she asked.

  “Terrified,” Jala admitted.

  “Well, you won’t be for long. That’s how you are, you’ll have it all figured out,” Marjani said. She hesitated, as if she was going to say something else but was cut off by a sharp knock on the door.

  Jala’s mother entered the room without waiting for an answer. Her smile was bright and determined. “Marjani, I’d like to speak with our new queen, please.”

  Marjani nodded. “You really do need to let me have my hand back now,” she said. “I promise it’s not going anywhere.”

  “Sorry,” Jala said, though what she really meant was thank you. She let Marjani go.

  “You won’t be able to stay in here forever,” her mother said once Marjani had left. “Your father’s already planning a feast tonight. We want all of our cousins to see you. Let the villages speak of how much like a queen you look.” As she talked, her mother began to go through Jala’s clothes, pulling out outfits she thought might suit a queen. It was almost a reflex, Jala thought.

  “Wasn’t Father complaining about the cost of all the feasts just a day ago?” Jala said.

  “And he’ll complain about these to me as well,” her mother said. “We have a lot of planning ahead of us. Here. I think this will do well enough for the day. Not too bold, not too humble. Good enough for your king and your father both, I think.”

  Jala’s mother stopped fiddling with clothes and turned to look at Jala. She smiled a little sadly. “There was a little part of me that was glad you wouldn’t be leaving quite so soon. Did you know about this the whole time? I thought you took things too far trying to convince that boy to pick you, but you showed me, didn’t you?”

  “I didn’t know,” Jala said. “And I wasn’t trying to convince him of anything. I just . . . wanted to kiss him.”

  “Well, you’ll have time for that once you’re married. Get dressed. They all expect to see a queen.”

  Then her mother left, too, and Jala was alone. She dressed, ignoring the clothes her mother had laid out for her and instead chose bright, bold clothing and an elaborate hairpiece of lacquered mainland wood and feathers from local birds. She looked at her reflection in the full-length looking glass her father had given her as a present on her sixteenth birthday.

  It was a gift worthy of a queen. Unlike cloth and precious stones, glass, especially a pane so large, wa
s almost impossible to take unbroken on a raid. Instead, it had to be traded for in the Constant City, the great bazaar-city of the mainland. She’d probably have to leave it behind when she left. She’d have to leave a lot of things behind.

  She adjusted the hairpiece and took several deep breaths until her expression was calm and her excitement and fear no longer showed. Looking back at her from the looking glass wasn’t Jala, but a queen. She wasn’t just a normal girl anymore.

  For the first time, she thought to wonder what Azi was thinking at this moment. Did he feel the way she did? Was he glad that he’d gone against his uncle’s wishes? He won’t hate being king if he has someone to help him, she told herself. With my help, he’ll be a better king than his brother could have ever been. Better than his father, too. She would tell him that the next time she had a chance . . . whenever that would be. They weren’t going to let them be alone together, not now that everything was settled.

  “It won’t be that long,” she whispered to the queen looking back at her, thinking again about that kiss. Then she turned away and went to face the Bardo, and the Kayet, and all of the Second Isle.

  She was wrong, though. It was a long time. Azi had said he’d marry her that day, but that had been more of a threat aimed at his uncle than any real intention. There would be a proper royal wedding. They would both be shown off to the five families. It wasn’t about them getting married, not really. It was about a king marrying a queen. So the unbearably long hours stretched into unbearably long days, and somehow those turned into weeks. According to tradition, the king couldn’t be alone with her until the day of the wedding. Jala could only manage a few words to Azi, always in the company of both families, always too formal for her to say anything meaningful. There was no more midnight kissing.

  As the days went on, Jala became more and more aware of how little she knew about Azi. She knew next to nothing about him as a king or as a man. She’d thought about being queen, and she’d imagined many times what it might be like to be with a man, but she hadn’t thought much about being married.