by Zara Zenia
My heart raced, the blood pounding in my ears. She was here. I couldn’t see her yet, but the device didn’t lie. She was in there, somewhere.
I looked up. The kitchen was dark and lit by a warm purple glow that emanated from the wall of ovens and open-flame grills. There were a handful of servants gathered around a series of preservation racks, so I walked forward. No one seemed to notice me at first. They were all working in their own little element, undistracted.
The scanner grew brighter and brighter and I surveyed the group. There were a handful of women, two of them who looked to be on the better side of fifty, and one short, round man, speaking rapidly and loading their hands with trays. As I approached, another woman straightened with her back turned away from me.
She was taller than the rest of the group, with a thick red braid that hung halfway down her back. She was struggling to pull a tray out of the rack, her back toward me. My jaw tensed. Could it be her? My breath held, suspended in my lungs.
Turn around.
I tried to mentally send her a signal. If she was really the one for me, then she’d feel my heart vibrating.
Another woman in the group, a perky young blonde, looked up and saw me, her eyes going huge as she screamed, stopping me in my tracks. All movement halted, and everyone turned to gawk at me, including the woman with the red braid. I’d been officially spotted.
When her eyes met mine, I felt my pulse leap. She was beautiful and somehow vaguely familiar, and I had the strangest sensation of . . . home.
I was intoxicated by her stare, unable to resist the current of emotions swirling through my mind as her eyes pierced through mine with astounding sensations of euphoria.
“What in the bloody hell!” came a voice behind me, setting everyone back into a flurry of emotion. In an instant, my dazed feeling of bouncing through white, fluffy clouds evaporated.
The petite blonde squeaked an apology, and before I could move toward the group again, one of the staff managers had stepped in front of me.
“Oh! My Lord! I mean, Your Highness! I’m so sorry, Prince Gardax. I didn’t know you were back here!”
“Don’t trouble yourself. It’s fine, Mrs.—”
“Barnaby, Your Highness. Darla Barnaby.” She curtsied awkwardly, then glared back at the rest of the workers. “Show some respect for the prince!” she hissed with aggressive flair.
“Really, that’s not necessary,” I started but was cut off as she came toward me, waving me back toward the door. She was persistent as she batted her hand and swiped it through the air. I was frozen in place, confused by her over-the-top reaction to my being in her kitchen.
“Please, don’t sully yourself in these sooty kitchens. I will see to anything you may need!” She was bony and commanding, with harsh, angular features and thin lips.
“No, it’s fine, please. I just want to take a look around,” I started, but she bounced in front of me. She was not going to permit me to move any further into the belly of the work going on in here.
“Is something wrong with the food, Your Highness? If you’re dissatisfied with anything at all, it will be fixed immediately,” she insisted, backing me further toward the door and gesturing me out. She continued to glare at the cooks as if they were bugs she wanted to stab under the bottom of her stiletto heel.
I tried to turn back around to face the group, but the manager was too close, and the scanner in my hand knocked free, cracking on the floor, the light fading almost immediately. I inhaled a sharp breath of disappointment.
“Oh!” she yelped. “Forgive me, Your Highness!” Her facial features looked wounded as if she were expecting a berating battering of wrath from me any second.
My fist clenched as I bent down to pick it up, tapping at the screen. Nothing. Fury bubbled in my veins. Frustration inhibited my strength.
Taking a deep breath and gaining hold of my frustration, I turned and focused my attention on the pushy woman before me. I gritted my teeth and did my best to contain my rising temper.
I spoke slowly, trying not to let displeasure color my words too much. It was an accident, after all. She didn’t intentionally break the one device that would help me find my match. The more I thought about it, the more disgruntled I became.
“There is nothing wrong at all with the food. Every one of our guests is having a very pleasant time. Thank you, Mrs. Barnaby, for all the hard work you and your employees have done to make it a success. Now, if you will excuse me, please, I just wanted to get to know the staff. I assure you, if I need anything, I will let you know.” I hoped that my response would be diplomatic, yet firm enough to get the point across to this bony, argumentative woman.
Turning back, the group was gone.
“Oh, but the workers have gone to set out the dessert courses, Your Highness,” she said, pausing before stepping closer. “But if it’s company you’re seeking, I would be very happy to entertain you, Prince Gardax, if you’ve grown weary of the party.” Her eyes searched me with desperation that she was trying to recover from.
I sighed, frustrated and not liking the suggestion in her voice. She may be able to hold an iron fist over her workers and staff, but I had little patience for pushy, bossy people, especially of the human kind.
“That’s quite all right. I’ll come back another time. Good evening.” I spun swiftly on a heel to exit the room and head back in the direction I came from.
I left the kitchen in a few quick strides before she could argue, returning to the dining rooms and searching the crowd for servants’ uniforms and the particularly pretty woman with the red braid. The rooms were simply too full, however, and among the sea of made-up, adorned, and flashy guests, I couldn’t find her.
Besides, without my scanner, the evening was essentially lost and I was too tired to feign any more interest in the masses of ambitious women. Slipping from the party, I made my way back to my private chamber and made plans to acquaint myself with the staff in the coming days. In the meantime, I hoped that there would be a way to repair the device.
Chapter 4
Amy
“So what happened when Darla came in?” Corinne asked, her blue eyes wide and full of more optimism than the situation warranted. It was crazy early, and she was perched on a chair in our tiny kitchenette, wrapped in a thick blanket while I cooked breakfast before heading to the ship to do the same for the prince.
I sighed, and the warm air made a puff of steam in the cold room. “Nothing.” I shrugged, tossing the omelet I was making for her. “Darla got in his face, insisting that she would help him. The desserts had to get out, so the rest of us went out to the dining hall. I didn’t get back to the kitchen for a while, and he was gone when I did.”
“You didn’t see him while you were in the party?” she asked, drinking her tea. She seemed oddly curious about something that if she had been there, wouldn’t have been such an interesting encounter.
“Are you kidding?” I laughed, remembering the horde. “It was insane how many people turned out. I mean, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. What woman in their right mind hasn’t dreamed that she’ll end up being picked by one of the princes? They’re all gorgeous and tall . . . and muscular . . . and with all that luxurious, black hair . . .”
“Oh, really?” Corinne smiled. “Here I thought they all had different-colored hair.”
“I just meant they’re well-groomed, you know? Not like the men around here who can’t be bothered to shave once in a while,” I lied.
“Uh-huh,” she answered, looking not at all convinced. “So, trillion-dollar question—what do you think he was doing in the kitchens?” She raised her eyebrows with looming curiosity.
“I don’t know. I mean . . .” I glanced at her sideways. “Okay, if I tell you this, don’t go spreading it around, got it?” I leaned closer to her with paranoia as if I were afraid that someone was secretly listening to our conversation.
A massive grin cracked her face. “Ooh! State secrets! Sister’s oath,” she said,
crossing her fingers in the little gesture we made up a while ago to proclaim our allegiance to each other.
“Well, so I heard one of the other maids saying that they’ve got some kind of scanners that are supposed to identify possible matches. I don’t know, I mean, it’s just gossip.” I chewed my lip. “But, he was holding a funny-looking little device . . . and it was glowing.”
“Holy cow, Amy!” She jumped up in her chair. “You think it was someone in the kitchen then?”
It seemed crazy, impossible even, but I had racked my brain trying to think of what else could have brought the prince down to the kitchens in the middle of his party. More importantly, his party that he threw for the express purpose of finding a wife. If he had been following the device and the signal it was emitting, the only practical answer that made sense was that the device had registered someone in the kitchens.
I ran through the kitchen workers. It might have been Jessa. She was only twenty, petite and with a sweet, chirpy personality. Her blonde hair was exactly as sunny as her personality. She’d only worked there for two weeks, so I didn’t doubt that Darla would grind some of that pleasantness down over time. Could it have been her? I racked my brain, trying to remember if Jessa had even been in the room when the prince had made his little surprise appearance.
I tried to imagine Jessa with the prince and was hit with a wave of nausea. I squeezed my eyes shut to instantly eliminate that nightmare from my mind.
“That’d be so wild,” Amy marveled, clearly pondering the idea as well.
I smiled. “Maybe. I don’t know. It’s totally ridiculous. They’re royalty. They’ll probably end up with people from the upper orders,” I said, feeling a bitter pang of resentment, thinking of the lucky few in the top tiers of the Union’s caste system. “I mean, that’s basically all that was at the party.”
I set the plate in front of Corinne and she dug in eagerly. Watching her scarf down her food in a matter of seconds squeezed my conscience with regret. I wanted to give her more, all the things I didn’t have. At least she enjoyed my cooking skills and what little food I did have to offer her.
She was my little sister by birth, but our situation blurred a lot of lines and our relationship was much more complex than that. Corinne was my sister, my best friend, my only family, my ally. For a thirteen-year-old, she had a lot of hats.
It had been the two of us on our own for the last decade since I was her age and she was a toddler. It had been terrifying, overwhelming, so much more than I knew how to deal with, but I’d learned. I had to. I got tough, we both did, and we survived.
I played many roles when it came to Corinne. Sometimes I was the mother, sometimes the sister, and sometimes, I was the friend. I even had to throw some discipline in there every now and then.
Now, even though I wasn’t making upper-order kind of money, I was making more than we’d had in the past, and I hoped I could put enough of it away for her to go to school, get a degree, make something more of herself than I had. I wanted everything for her. I was willing to sacrifice my career and happiness in order to help her succeed and shine.
She finished eating her share and pushed the plate toward me, but I shook my head. “You eat it. I’ll snack on something on the ship.” It wasn’t entirely truthful, but it wasn’t a downright lie either.
She looked at me dubiously. “Yeah, boiled fish guts or something else nasty that Darla deems fit for the staff?” She raised a cynical eyebrow.
I shrugged and pushed it back. “Maybe I like boiled fish.” I gave her a smirk.
She narrowed her eyes, but I could tell she was still hungry, and she eventually relented and ate the last of it. “Well, don’t eat too much. You don’t want to have bad breath when the prince comes for you.”
I laughed. “Yeah, right.” I stood and cleaned up the dishes. The apartment had two rooms, a bathroom and everything else. It wasn’t much, but I liked to keep it orderly. Mom had always said you make the most of what you have, and we were lucky to have a place at all. We’d made it out of the conflict in Denver, but only barely, and we’d had to leave everything we had behind. I appreciated Corinne’s humor and needed it now more than ever.
Corinne leaned back, tightening her blanket. “Why is that so ridiculous?”
“Um, you have seen me, right?” I gestured to my tall figure and my red braid. I never fussed with my hair or bothered with makeup. I worked in a hot kitchen, and there was no one there worth impressing. My clothes were tired and shabby.
“Well, I’m not going to argue that you could benefit from an update in the wardrobe department, but at least you’ve got boobs,” she says. “Some of us are still stuck in training bra hell. Besides, he’s a prince. He could buy you a makeover!” Corinne’s enthusiasm erupted in her eyes.
I laughed and shook my head at her. “Trust me, you should enjoy your pre-boobdom while it lasts.”
“Agree to disagree. Now back to your prince,” she insisted. She waved her finger abstractly in the air as if she were fully prepared to go into daydream mode, right here, right now.
“Oh, stop it right now. He’s so not my prince,” I said, turning away, hoping she didn’t see the vibrant blush staining my cheeks, courtesy of my red-head coloring which meant I could never be embarrassed without everyone knowing it.
“He could be, though. Imagine! You could pop out babies for him at rabbit-like speeds and I could lounge in the lap of luxury, your doting sister, surrounded by jewels, servants, and plates of weird alien food everywhere!”
I laughed. “Hmm. Some exchange.” Now she was getting over the top with her vibrant and wildly vivid imagination.
“Okay, fine, I’ll share some of the food with you.” She paused then sobered. “No, but really, Amy, who knows? You should at least try and talk to him. I mean, you work in his house. How hard can it be?”
I rolled my eyes. “You don’t know what Darla’s like. Besides, I have no reason to interact with him, and even if I somehow managed that, what would I even say?” I shook my head, imagining all sorts of awkward fumbles and the accompanying humiliation. It was not a situation that I envisioned in the private seclusion of my mind.
For a moment, I didn’t realize the room had gone quiet. I was too lost in my own thoughts. I finally looked over at Corinne, only to find her slumped over, palm on her forehead. My heart dropped through my feet.
Rushing over, I rubbed her back. “Hey, what’s wrong? Talk to me,” I whispered consolingly in her ear. It was a technique that often worked whenever she became distressed about something.
She scrunched her face, light brown hair spilling around it like curtains closing her off from me. “It’s fine, just a headache.”
I paused, that awful churning feeling in my gut. “Have you been having the dreams again?” I hated to bring up the touchy subject, but it was my job to protect her.
Breathing deeply, she winced. She didn’t open her eyes, just nodded.
Damn it.
“We’ll take you to the health bureau today. Maybe they can give you something,” I reassured her consolingly.
She pushed me away. “No, we both know they can’t. And we both know you can’t miss work. I’ll be fine. We can’t afford for me not to be.”
I hated that she was right, and the frustration boiled in my blood. But there wasn’t anything I could do. She was right. If I missed work, Darla would happily fire me and then we’d end up on the streets. The health bureau wouldn’t do anything. Let’s face it. Darla was just itching to have grounds and a reason to kick me to the curb, leaving me out on the streets with nothing.
Every once in a while, these attacks just flared up, the effects of violence we had seen, the trauma she’d experienced as a child in a warzone. It started with nightmares, then came the racing heart that popped up at random times, stealing her breath, and finally, the migraines. It was only fitting that she’d endure an occurrence of post-traumatic stress. She’d never been officially diagnosed, but I knew the signs and the
clues.
She squeezed my hand with an empathetic tug. “I’ll be okay. I’ll lie down for a while. Just go to work.”
I was helpless and it hurt. I didn’t want my conflict and torment to show in my features, but she was savvy at reading my emotions no matter how harshly I tried to cover them.
“Is there anything I can get for you? I put a little cash aside. I can get you some shortbread,” I offered feebly.
Corinne opened her eyes then, just for a moment. “Talk to the prince and sweep him off his feet.” She laughed weakly. Even if she was only partially kidding, her hope was pitiful and made my heart ache.
“You’re impossible,” I said, shaking my head before I relented. “I’ll see what I can do. Now come on. Let’s get you to the bed,” I said, lifting her light frame up. To my surprise and relief, she yielded to my embrace and allowed me to carry her away.
A short time later, I was loaded into the small shuttle that picked up the workers for the prince’s residency. I was late, but thankfully, I hadn’t missed the last trip.
“Morning,” Viani, an older woman who worked as a maid in the private wing, nodded. “Gonna be a fine mess to deal with today, I’m sure.” She clicked her tongue and shook her head regretfully.
“Wasn’t it cleaned up before the shift change?” I asked. Part of me became alarmed.
“Who knows! When I left, the princes were still out there with their ‘admirers’,” Viani answered with bitter air quotes.
“Sluts,” the other woman, Petra, added with a cynical hiss.
Viani smirked. “Ha, you’re just jealous you weren’t one of them.”
“Hmph!” Petra sniffed. She stared out the window and refused to make eye contact with anyone.
Viani turned back to me. “Wouldn’t be surprised if they weren’t still living it up, or doing who knows what else with all those randy women.”
The image twisted in my stomach. I had no right to feel jealous, but it was there all the same. I would never dance among the elite, and I would never get a chance to wear a fancy, dazzling dress that sparkled when I twirled around. It was useless to dream of anything different.