School For Spirits

by Aron Lewes

  “Wait!” It was Jalen who protested. “The princess has only just arrived. Can you not give her a moment to rest?”

  Jonah was already facing the castle, but when he heard Jalen's voice, he spun in her direction. “Pardon?” he gasped. “Did anyone ask for your opinion, maid?”

  Jalen didn't give him the satisfaction of a response. She just glared at him.

  “I don't know how servants are treated elsewhere, but in my castle, servants don't speak unless they're spoken to.” To the princess, Jonah added, “Unless you want your friend to offend me every time she opens her mouth, you need to make her understand this.”

  Arienne could feel her fists clenching at her sides. As much as she wanted to speak up on behalf of her friend, she couldn't. She wanted to make every effort to get along with the man she was doomed to marry.

  “Now...” Jonah continued, “If, in fact, you are too exhausted to join me for supper, don't be afraid to speak up, Princess Arienne. Your opinion matters more than your maid's.”

  “I'm not too exhausted.”

  “Good. Then let us proceed to the dining room. Shall we?”

  Princess Arienne followed the pompous prince through Castle Fellborn's magnificent bronze doors. With its towering white pillars and shining silver buttresses, the castle inspired awe. In comparison, her father's cold, stone fortress was practically a hovel. Even Castle Fellborn's interior was unlike anything Arienne had ever seen. The hallways were gold, the stairs were crystal, and somehow, every candle burned with a violet flame.

  “Your castle is beautiful.” Arienne quietly paid the compliment as they climbed the crystal staircase.

  “Indeed it is... if I do say so myself,” Jonah agreed. “Once we're married, I hope this is where we choose to stay.”

  Arienne didn't want to commit to anything, so she softly replied, “Perhaps.”

  “It's a shame we aren't getting married here,” Jonah complained. “Castle Fellborn's rainbow ballroom would have been a spectacular setting for our wedding.”

  “I'm sure it's lovely, Prince Jonah, but I daresay you won't be disappointed in Drakesley Castle,” Arienne defended her ancestral home.

  Of course, the prince had a different opinion. Under his breath, he snorted, “I bet I will be.”

  As they made their way to the dining room, every servant and soldier stood at attention and saluted the royalty. Despite being a princess, Arienne was unaccustomed to such special treatment. Surprisingly, it was Jonah who held the door for her when they arrived at their destination. “Both of our fathers won't be able to attend the wedding. It's a shame, isn't it?” Jonah lamented. “But they're both too old, frail and feeble to make the journey across oceans. Deep down, I don't think my father gives a damn about the wedding, which is why we're traveling Drakesley tomorrow.”

  “I haven't been home in the last six months,” Arienne remarked as Jonah pulled out her chair. “It'll be nice to see my father again.”

  “Ah. That's right. You've been living with an aunt,” Jonah recalled. He sat at the princess' right, while silent Findlay sat at her left. “And your aunt is a...?”

  “Baroness,” Arienne reminded him. “The Baroness of Dipley.”

  “I suppose that's respectable enough.” Jonah removed his leather gloves and snapped his fingers at the nearby servants, who left to find food for their prince. Within seconds, the first course was served. A soup with an unpronounceable name was presented in a fancy silver bowl.

  As soon as the first spoonful passed through Arienne's lips, the prince asked, “Is it to your liking?”

  “Yes. It's very good.”

  “Well, it's not to my liking.” Jonah held up the bowl and barked at one of his servants, “You! You there! This soup is cold! Who thought this was acceptable?”

  “I'm sorry, sir.” The servant stepped forward with a bow and recovered the bowl from the prince's outstretched hands. “The error will be corrected, Your Highness. We're terribly sorry.”

  “Would you like a new bowl as well, Arienne?” Jonah asked his fiance.

  “No. I'm fine. I think the soup's delicious.” When Arienne glanced in Findlay's direction, he looked every bit as content as she did. The younger, quieter prince had no complaints about his food. Then she glanced behind her, where Jalen was standing against the wall, silently observing their feast. Arienne felt horrible.

  “You should see the rainbow ballroom before we leave, Your Highness,” Prince Jonah suggested as another, hotter bowl of soup was delivered to him. “I guarantee it will take your breath away. The entire room looks like a pearl.”

  “That does sound lovely.”

  “You have beautiful hair, my lady,” Jonah suddenly complimented her. “It looks quite like a sunset.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Or a sunrise, perhaps,” he amended himself. “Either way, it's lovely.”

  Arienne smiled weakly, but she didn't say a word. She wanted to enjoy at least part of her meal in silence, but she wasn't so fortunate. A new complaint hovered on the tip of Jonah's tongue.

  “Aren't you going to compliment me?” he whined. “After all, I'm going to be your husband. It'd be nice to know you aren't repulsed by me.”

  “Of course you're not repulsive!” Arienne rolled her eyes at the prince's remark. “I think you're very handsome, Your Highness.”

  “Do you?” As the prince fished for compliments, the second course was served. “What do you like about me? Be specific.”

  “I think you have... beautiful eyes.” It was only a half-truth. Jonah's impossibly pale blue eyes were indeed beautiful, but they were also somewhat chilling.

  “And?” He wanted more.

  “And... I quite like your freckles.”

  “Good.” That seemed to satisfy him. “Thank you, Princess Arienne. That's very kind of you.” After thanking her, Jonah turned to one of the servants and complained about the meat on his plate, which was apparently too well-done for his liking.

  Once again, Findlay had no complaints. Throughout most of the meal, the younger brother's attention was focused on the sketchbook on his lap, which was part of the reason why he was silent. He was fixated on his art.

  Before the third course was served, Arienne's curiosity was piqued, so she asked him, “What are you drawing, Prince Findlay?”

  With a tentative smile on his lips, Findlay showed her a remarkable sketch of Jalen.

  “Oh wow!” Arienne exclaimed. “That's impressive! You should show it to her!”

  “Don't,” Findlay whispered. “I wouldn't want to alarm her.”

  Prince Jonah wanted the conversation to be about him, so he unabashedly interrupted their discussion. “I have talent too, you know.”

  “Oh?” Arienne couldn't even pretend to be curious.

  “Indeed. I am an accomplished pianist and an excellent swordsman,” Jonah claimed. “I look forward to demonstrating my skills for you, Arienne.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “But we needn't rush,” Jonah went on. “We have an entire lifetime ahead of us. As your husband, I'll have plenty of time to show you my many, many talents.”

  Arienne could feel her stomach dropping and her heart sinking.

  A lifetime. A lifetime with Prince Jonah. Reality hit harder than a punch to the gut.

  Suddenly, she was desperate to escape.