by Kate Kelley
“Did you hear what I said? We could use you as a way to understand why Abner--”
“Though Persimmon may be a whore, as you implied, I am not of the same profession, and would rather not be used.”
Lyra’s jaw dropped. “Oriel, I never--first of all, I didn’t call her that, it was Abner’s thought, and secondly, I didn’t mean to imply you sleep with her.”
Oriel gave her a disbelieving look. “What did you mean to imply then? I have no desire to be around the woman, let alone share a bed with her.”
“Well, perhaps you can just make amends with her. Befriend her. She likes you, still, that much is clear. She clearly knows something we do not, and maybe there’s a deeper reason for her withholding that book from you.” Oriel kept his gaze downward, his emotions shielded.
“Are you angry with me, Oriel? I’m sorry. I just thought, it’s been ten years and how many leads like this have you gotten?--”
A banging on the door cut Lyra’s explanation off. Oriel gave her one last scathing look before rising to answer the door. A bulky dark frame swept in as soon as the door was opened. Lyra’s stomach filled with butterflies. It was unnerving to see him again. He seemed bigger, somehow.
“Hello, Terrin, come on in.” Oriel said in a flat voice. The King gave him a sharp look before glancing at Lyra.
“What’s wrong with you, Oriel? I’ve never had the pleasure of seeing you in such a foul mood.”
Oriel wiped a hand over his face as if to wipe off the feeling, and sat back down.
“Lyra here was suggesting to me that I take up a relationship with Persimmon again in order to find out what she knows.” The King glanced at Lyra sharply, then trailed his eyes over her face and dress before turning back to Oriel. Lyra’s heart sped up.
“What would Persimmon know?”
I’ve missed that deep voice.
Lyra blinked hard to rid herself of the pesky thoughts.
“I read Abner’s thoughts today, in the market,” Lyra blurted to the King. He raised his eyebrows at her and a faint smile shown on his mouth.
“Excellent. I take it you’ve mastered emotion reading and shielding your emotions?”
“Yes, she has.” Oriel chimed in, a soft expression overtaking his previous surly mood. The King sighed in relief, nodding his head, his face animated.
“Excellent. Our combat training can begin now.”
Lyra balked. She’d been hoping he would forget about that.
“When?” she asked in a small voice.
“Tonight. Oh, bollocks. Not tonight.”
“The ball is tonight.” Lyra stated, nodding her head. She was relieved, even if she wasn’t looking forward to the ball.
“Yes,” The King’s animated expression dimmed, “I keep forgetting as Princess Navi has repeatedly delayed her arrival date by two weeks.” Lyra sensed his agitation.
He must be eager to wed her.
Anger pierced her soul, and she stifled her huff of exasperation. She still had no clue why her aura betrayed her mind so much when it came to the King. At least she was fluent in shielding her emotions now.
“Well, tomorrow night then. Now, what did you hear from Abner?”
Lyra glanced to Oriel, wondering if he would take the lead on this one. She didn’t want to repeat it. Oriel smirked.
“Abner wants Persimmon to whore herself out to me for information on Lyra.” Oriel’s tone was flat as he spoke. The King quirked an eyebrow but didn’t reply right away.
“And Lyra suggested that I let her, but instead pry information from her on what she and Abner know.”
“Why is Persimmon involved in this at all?”
“She withheld a scroll from me a month ago. That one you wanted.”
The King clenched his jaw. “The scroll on that sorceror. And you are just now telling me this.” Rage crossed his features and Lyra curled in on herself even as her aura reached out to his. She tamped it down.
Oriel’s brow descended over his brown eyes. “I thought it was a personal reason. She’s exceedingly fickle. I didn’t think that she was involved in anything serious.” The King thought for a moment. “Oriel, it is a good plan. Dance with her at the ball tonight. Find out what she knows.”
Oriel gaped. “What makes you think she will suddenly spill her secrets now to me if she was willing to defy direct orders from you to procure the scroll?”
“We have to try something. We are on the losing end at this point and this is our first real lead. I need to know what we are up against. And I need clues to lead us to Eclipsa. To Iris. To Alec. Let’s not forget our goal. We need something.”
Oriel’s jaw clenched. “Fine.” He replied shortly, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling. Lyra couldn’t help but giggle. Oriel pinned her with a harsh glance.
“Oh, Oriel. You look like we just announced your entry into battle. It’s just a woman.”
“Far more dangerous than battle,” was his soft reply. Lyra shook her head, her loose curls swaying with the movement.
“Will it bother you if I dance with someone other than you at the ball tonight? You are my date, after all.”
Lyra smiled and rolled her eyes at Oriel’s serious expression.
“You’re ever the sweetheart, Oriel. Of course not. I’ll be glad to sit out a few dances if it means getting out of the spotlight.”
Oriel didn’t seem satisfied with her answer.
The King stood abruptly. “I must go. Preparations to attend to. You are both doing good work. I’ll see you both in the ballroom at 8 o'clock. Don’t be late.” Without a backward glance, he was off, the door banging closed behind him.
He didn’t even look at me before he left.
Why that irked her, she had no idea. And why she filled with dread at the thought of seeing him with the Ursa Princess, she didn’t know either. The man was a major thorn in her side, but at least Oriel would be there with her. He was her rock in this nightmare of a month.
Chapter 15
The moon hung like a blue silver disc in the sky. Lyra held onto the railing as she gazed into the night. She breathed it in deeply, exhaling with a puff of white breath. She felt chilled to the bone in just her chemise, but she didn’t mind it. She’d be getting dressed soon for the ball. Poppi should arrive any minute with a special gown just for her. She would wear the extravagant piece, and try to stave off feeling miserable in it, if not for Oriel’s presence. He was the only constant she could count on. She couldn’t admit to herself that he took the place the Alec, but she felt it. Alec felt so distant, like she last saw him a lifetime ago instead of two months. Briefly, she thought of Edwin, how he never returned her letter. She had wondered if he hadn’t received hers, but now it hardly mattered. She wasn’t leaving until she left with Alec, and when she found him, they would run far away from this place and these people. Whether Edwin would be a part of that or not was yet to be seen.
A knock sounded on the door, and Poppi entered with a bundle of fabric in her arms which she laid out on the bed.
“Oh, Poppi, this is stunning. Did you design it?” Lyra rushed into the warmer room and shut the doors.
“Of course I did. Genevieve is starting to like my designs too.” Poppi eagerly took in her expression as Lyra ran her hand over the intricate gown. The gown was made of a delicately soft sheer material, covered in white lace flowers at the bust and decolletage and fading into black lace flowers at the waist and down about halfway the length of the gown before going sheer again and then fading back into black lace flowers at the very bottom. It didn’t appear to poof out in any way, so it would probably be form fitting. Lyra was awestruck, though she wondered how much leg it would show with most of the length being sheer.
“Don’t worry. The Northern women like to show off their skin. Most of Gem will be wearing their most seductive gowns, so I designed accordingly.” Poppi was proud of her work, and had loosened up the last two weeks. Gone was the “miss” business. She called her by her name now. Lyra would like to th
ink they were becoming friends. Poppi gestured to the tufted chair in front of the large vanity.
“First, your hair. I think I’ll opt for a low, simple coif tonight. I don’t want to detract from the beauty of the gown. Your hair has a way of attracting attention.” Poppi spoke leisurely as she combed and secured Lyra’s hair at the base of her head with a large flower pin to keep it all together, but still allowing the curls to tumble demurely down her back. After using her fingers to twist and smooth the curls, her hair looked silky and tame.
“You won’t be able to wear a corset with this, and probably have to forego undergarments altogether.” Poppi’s cheeks pinked as she said it, but she busied herself with removing the dress from it’s hanger and unlacing the back. Lyra removed her chemise and undergarments.
This is new.
When the dress was on and laced up, Lyra was surprised by how comfortable it was, like a second skin. It gave and stretched with her movements, so that her hips weren’t confined by the material.
“You look...like a princess.” Poppi breathed, looking into the mirror at Lyra’s reflection. Lyra admitted the dress did look amazing. The word princess soured Lyra’s appreciation for the gown, but the gown was admittedly extraordinary on her.
“Poppi, you have to use these talents. Become a dressmaker. You could make a real profession out of it. Do you know how many ladies would flock to you?” Poppi gave her a wide smile.
“Thank you, Lyra. That means a lot. You’re very kind.” Sadness washed over her face for a moment before she schooled a neutral expression.
“You could do it, you know. I’m sure Genevieve would be happy to help you show some of your designs in the marketplace, or maybe she’d use them in her shop. People will be lining up to hire you.”
Poppi’s back stiffened as she handed Lyra a pair of velvet heeled booties. “My place is in service to the King.”
“But is that all you want out of life? You’re no older than twenty years old, I take it? I’ve spent most of my life doing something I didn’t really enjoy, but I did it out of a sense of duty. You could have a different life--”
“I won’t hear anymore of it, Lyra.” A tense silence filled the air.
“Okay. Sorry. I won’t mention it again.” Peeking at her face, she saw her eyes had misted and her center shown sadness and fatigue. She stopped short of reading her mind, though she was tempted. She didn’t know if she’d recover quickly enough to be present at the ball, and she needed to be there for Oriel.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to answer like that. I just…” She let her words trail off. Lyra creased her brow, wanting to understand Poppi’s pain.
“Don’t apologize. It’s alright.” Holding the door open, she waited for Poppi to join her. Lyra could have sworn Poppi’s face paled as she walked stiffly toward her and matched her stride. Lyra shook her head at her strange behaviour.
“I’m twenty-two,” Poppi admitted with a sidelong glance. Lyra smiled at her.
Baby steps.
The corridors were oddly devoid of people, but the rumble of voices grew as they drew closer to the ball room. A low melody began on a vielle, the sharp, seductive sound of bow on string colliding and mingling with the chatter of anticipation. Lyra’s nervousness grew and her aura rose as if on it’s own volition.
They reached the wide transparent doors to see dozens of people dressed in silvers and blacks and blues and purples and reds, many Lyra had never seen before, talking and gesturing and swaying and laughing together. The distinct smack of excitement, abandon, and lust in the air nearly knocked Lyra back and she had to turn her head to the side to get a breath and get her aura under control.
The expansive room was overwhelming, stepping into it would be akin to stepping into a sea of writhing bodies that smelled of musk and cloyingly sweet flowers. She scanned the faces of the animated women and men, desperately searching for Oriel. Finally she spotted a mop of dark brown curls in the corner of the room.
“Thank you for doing this with me, Poppi, and for--” Turning her head she saw that Poppi was already retreating at a clipped pace down the wide hallway. She practically jogged. Lyra jogged after her. Poppi turned to see her, eyes wide, and disappeared around a corner at a faster pace.
“Poppi!” Lyra hissed, catching up to her and grabbing her arm to stop her. “What the hell, Poppi? Are you okay?”
Poppi caught her breath. “I don’t want to go in there, Lyra. Please don’t make me.”
Lyra glared at her. “It is overwhelming, I know. But I’ll be there. Please, I don’t want to go in there by myself.” Lyra felt sick for pleading, but she needed her. Another thing she’d learned in training is to ask when you needed help. It was a way to open yourself to others and make friends, so said Oriel. Poppi wrung her hands, peeking around the corner toward the ballroom doors. Her frown deepened.
“I just need to find Oriel, then you can leave. I think I saw him in the corner of the room.”
Poppi paled. “Fine.” Shaking her head, she strode past Lyra and marched onward. Lyra caught up and looped her arm through Poppi’s. “I’ll owe you a favor, how about that?” Poppi glanced at her, her pale brown eyes skeptical.
“Deal. I get to choose the favor.”
Lyra couldn’t help but smile. “Deal.”
As soon as they crossed the threshold into the busy room, the music stopped and everyone turned towards them.
Oh, shyte.
Poppi’s jaw dropped and they froze, staring into the sea of faces pointed their direction. A sharp body part nudged Lyra from behind into her spine. “Move, peasant.”
Turning, bewildered, she encountered the most stunning woman she had ever seen. She was surrounded by a gaggle of six elaborately dressed women--tall women. Nearly six foot, each one of them. The one who had spoken to her (quite rudely, she might add) had the smoothest porcelain skin she’d ever seen. If she had time to scrutinize her face, she probably wouldn’t find a single blemish. High, slashing cheekbones accented her perfectly oval face and a forward- sloping, defined jaw. Her eyes were a deep, crystal blue. A deep cupid’s bow defined her full, red lips. But her hair was the most extraordinary feature about her, aside from her height. It was a fiery red, the likes of which Lyra had never seen. So red, it almost matched the rouge which painted her lips. It was gathered and secured high up on her head, then tumbled down in luscious waves to her waist. Her head was crowned with a silver tiara adorned with white pearls, diamonds, and rubies. Her gown was an icy blue silk beaded with hundreds of sparkling crystals and draped to the floor, moving like water. The bust plunged low to her breastbone, her small, perky cleavage on display. She was unmistakably royalty.
“I said move.” The contempt in her deep voice finally caused Lyra to dart to the left and join Poppi who was huddled into the corner like a frightened bird. She stared at the tall women, looking like she might puke. Lyra instinctively wrapped an arm around her and rubbed her back. Silo’s shrill voice rang out then.
“Attention, Gem Courtiers: Please stand together to welcome a distinct member of Ursa royalty, the lovely, majestic, regal Princess Navi.”
The silent crowd bowed their heads low as the Princess slunk forward. A servant rushed forward, head bowed, and took her white fur coat. The crowd separated seemingly instinctively to let the princess forward. It was then that Lyra saw the King, sitting in a golden throne at the back of the room. He was expressionless, his eyes boring into Princess Navi. When she reached him, she inclined her head and he stood while she extended her hand. The crowd waited, breath baited.
“Such a pleasure to finally meet you. The legends don’t hold a candle to your stunning beauty.” He bent and laid a light kiss on her hand before straightening and drawing her forward to her own, smaller throne seated next to him.
Princess Navi faked her best demure smile, but looked more like a vulture who’d found a large rat carcass. Sitting delicately, she straightened her back and looked out into the crowd. Her voice rose, forced honey
ed tones gushing over the crowd.
“It is my distinct pleasure to arrive at the famed Gem palace, and sit beside my rightful place beside King Terrin. Let the celebration commence.” Immediately the vielle started up again, a lively tune rising into the room and shaking the people out of their stunned silence. Lyra noticed the group of women Princess Navi had arrived with were seated at the small stately table situated to the left of the thrones.
“I never knew Northern folk were so tall. I wonder how tall their men are.”
“Taller still. Most surpass the size of the King.” Poppi answered so matter-of-factly, that Lyra glanced sharply at her.
“How do you know that?”
“She’s a vision, is she not?” Oriel’s voice interrupted Lyra’s questioning. She spun around to face him.
“Gods, there you are. You left me to fend for myself in this savagery.”
Oriel barked out a laugh, wrapping an arm around her waist and hugging her close. “You’re safe now, m’lady. Your hero has arrived.”
“I may swoon!” Lyra held her hand to her forehead, feigning collapse, and Oriel leaned her back, chuckling.
“May I be dismissed?” Poppi’s small voice sounded behind Lyra and guilt stabbed her as she straightened.
“Of course. I wish you could stay. It’s silly that servants can’t attend. Really, Oriel, you should speak to the King about such an asinine rule.”
Oriel studied Poppi with curiosity, then nodded.
“I will bring it up to him. Not that he takes much stock in what I have to say, as you well know.”
“That’s not true. You’re his closest friend and ally.” Lyra retorted.
“Second-closest. That title remains with Alec.”
“I don’t mind. I don’t want to be here any longer.” Poppi’s shifty eyes darted from side to side. She looked like a frightened doe. Lyra didn’t blame her.
“Alright, dear. I’ll see you in the morning. Maybe later this evening--if I get lucky and get to sneak out.” She winked at Poppi, but she was in no mood to banter. She nodded curtly and turned on her heel, disappearing toward the door. Oriel watched her leave.