by Kate Kelley
“I beg to differ, your majesty. I think the truth sets people free.”
“Well, therein lies the point. A free people isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Just look at what we are living in now. Gaia may set us free soon, but that also means we are without her protection. Sometimes freedom comes with a price.”
Lyra couldn’t resist rolling her eyes then, and shook her head. Oriel cleared his throat, and clapped his hands as he stood, as if trying to disperse the angst in the air between the two.
“Well,” he said, “I suppose I’ll be taking my usual quarters. And I suspect I’ll be seeing you for dinner.” He inclined his head toward Lyra.
“Yes, you will be joining me for dinner in the great hall,” the King clipped out at Lyra, a tight smile on his lips.
“Fine. I’ll be happy to sit with you, Oriel.” She smiled sweetly at Oriel, ignoring the King’s fiery stare. Oriel smiled sweetly back at her, lifting her hand and kissing lightly. She saw the King stalk away from the corner of her eye.
Oriel smiled and grasped her hand, leading her out of the door and down the corridor. When they reached the vestibule, Lyra spotted Poppi standing expectantly at the bottom of the spiral staircase. She genuinely warmed to see her. Oriel caught her chin in his hand, his smooth skin like silk on hers. Looking into her eyes, he smiled, but she noticed a sense of sadness in it and she didn’t know why.
“I’ll see you at dinner, Lyra.”
“See you then, Oriel.” When he left and headed down the hall to the left, Lyra almost ran to Poppi. Poppi’s brown eyes were round as saucers.
“Miss, are you alright? I was so worried when you didn’t return, but I knew you were with the King, so danger couldn’t befall you.”
Lyra wondered at that. She knew the King was dangerous, she could feel it, and yet...there was something protective about him as well. In the way he took down that thief, and calmed the skies, and replaced Genevieve's funds...she knew he wanted to protect his people. It was an odd, contradictory mix of feelings. She didn’t want to dwell on those conflicting emotions.
“It was sweet of you to worry. I am unscathed.”
Well, mostly.
She wasn’t sure how much she should tell Poppi.
“You look shaken, miss. And who was that man?” Curiosity painted Poppi’s countenance as she cast a lingering glance In the direction Oriel had left.
“That was Oriel. He works for the King. I suppose I work with him now, too.”
Lyra felt the explanation was good enough, and when Poppi didn’t question any further, she suspected Poppi did too. Or at least, she was used to keeping her mouth shut.
As they pushed into her room, Lyra sat down heavily on the bed and laid back. The little bit of training they had done had worn her body ragged. With the late afternoon sun shining in the room and the quiet, she could fall asleep right here.
Poppi’s voice woke her from her dozing. “Dinner's at six. I’ll come and wake you when it’s time to get ready.” Lyra nodded slowly before her eyes drifted shut again.
✽✽✽
Lyra woke with a pounding in her head. Or was that the door? Sitting abruptly she blinked and rubbed her eyes until the room stopped swaying. The room was dark, and stars had begin to materialize in the sky outside her window. The pounding continued, followed by a small muffled voice. Scooting off the bed, she crossed to the room and opened the door. There stood Poppi, her eyebrows bunched together.
“Miss, why did you lock your door?”
Lyra blinked at her. “I didn’t.” Poppi stared at her, puzzled.
“I couldn’t open the door to wake you. It was locked. I was hoping my knocking would be enough to wake you.”
“I’m sorry, Poppi, but I didn’t lock my door. Come in.” Poppi stepped into the room and began drawing the bath. Water poured from the spout at the head of the claw-footed tub. Lyra took her cue and began undressing with a heavy yawn.
“Is there anything special I should know about these dinners? Any manners I should make sure I follow?” Poppi tested the water before turning off the running water. “You’ll be escorted in by the person you will be sitting next to. It will be a man. There must be an even number of men and women in the dining hall. It’s tradition.”
Poppi laid out a fluffy white towel on the marble floor and another on the edge of the tub. Lyra sank into the warmth and sighed deeply. This bath was one thing she would miss when she left. She wondered when Edwin would get her letter. Poppi hurriedly lifted Lyra’s hair from the water and secured it atop her head with some pins.
“Your hair is much too thick to dry in time for dinner. Best not to wash it today, miss.” Lyra scrubbed her skin until she felt fresh and clean. Stepping out and into the cool air, she toweled off and wrapped the lush material around her body.
“What will I be wearing tonight?”
Poppi smiled widely, a twinkle in her eye. The girl really did love fashion. Poppi disappeared into the closet for a few moments before returning with a stunning silk gown of purest lilac. It reminded her of an elusive hue one would glimpse in a sunset, and the material shone like liquid.
“I don’t have shoes to wear with that.” Lyra wouldn’t miss the constant dressing up. Poppi reappeared with a pair of lilac flats that resembled ballet shoes. They were perfectly feminine.
“I was afraid you were going to pull out some high-heeled shoes. I can’t walk in those.” She let out a laugh and Poppi laughed with her.
“I can’t either, to be honest. Not that I have those kind of shoes, but, I have tried on a pair or two. I didn’t make it very far.” She laughed again and Lyra smiled as Poppi helped her into her gown. It was an odd comfort to see Poppi unburdened of being a maid, and able to just be herself. It was like talking to a friend. Lyra had never had a girlfriend before.
As Poppi laced the back, Lyra admired the gown in the mirror. It fit her perfectly. Thin, sheer sleeves covered her shoulders while her cleavage swelled above the heart-shaped neckline. The gown was form-fitting through the bodice and hips and flared out slightly from the knees to the floor.
She slipped into the dainty flats Poppi laid out for her and then sat while Poppi brushed and braided and twisted her hair into a pile on top of her head. She barely recognized herself in the mirror. She never wore her hair that high on her head.
As Poppi was pulling a few stands out to let curl around her face, Lyra had a thought about something Poppi had said.
“Was it your last mistress who had all the high-heeled shoes?” She asked, conversationally. Poppi paused her styling for a fraction of a second, and Lyra sensed her alarm. She couldn’t understand why the girl would be alarmed by that question.
“Yes, miss.” So she was back to polite, distant Poppi. She must have struck a nerve. Perhaps her former mistress had been cruel. She felt a spot of rage at the thought that anyone could be cruel to sweet Poppi.
“There,” Poppi sighed, looking proud of her work. The two made their way down the stairs to the great dining hall. The doors were large and heavy oak, like all the others. Lyra could hear the muffled sound of voices, high and low, laughter and coughs, the tinkling of glass. She felt a lick of trepidation.
Oriel better be in here.
Before entering the room, she faced Poppi, hesitating. “I didn’t mean to pry, earlier, when I asked about your former mistress. I’m sorry if I crossed a line.” Poppi scrunched her eyebrows and looked down, but not before Lyra could catch the reddening of her cheeks and the glimmer in her eyes.
“It’s no problem, miss. It was a normal question.” Poppi’s voice wavered. Silence lingered between them for a moment and Poppi opened her mouth as if to speak before a warm hand brushed Lyra’s lower back.
Turning around swiftly, she saw Oriel standing behind her, looking freshly coiffed and handsome. His rich brown eyes flickered in the candlelight of the hallway, catching the gold within them. He wore a high collared tunic the color of burnt sienna, with a long brown vest clasped overtop. Ma
tching wide-legged pants and golden sandals and belt completed his look. The colors complimented his skin tone and personality well. Warm. He stretched a hand out to her and she took it without hesitation.
Turning back to say goodbye to Poppi, she was surprised to see she had already gone. A stab of regret marled her otherwise excited mood. I must speak to her later.
“Will you be escorting me in, then?” Lyra asked Oriel.
“Of course, my lady, who else would?” He winked at her and she took his muscled arm. The doors opened as if magically, and they entered the busy dining hall.
Giant chandeliers lit with dozens of candles adorned the high vaulted ceilings. In the center of the room, the longest table she had ever seen boasted an elaborate, shining array of fine dishes and polished silver, while bouquets of red and orange mums and pine cones decorated the center line of the table. Men and women dressed in the finest clothing she’d ever seen stood in groups of three or four and conversed with pleasant expressions etched on their faces. Servants stood on the perimeter of the room holding silver trays with various appetizers and drinks, quick to indulge at the wink of an eye. Even with Lyra’s fine gown and coiffed hair, she felt out of place.
“Do you know any of these people?” Lyra murmured to Oriel. He had to bend his ear down to her so he could hear her.
“Not really,” he replied in her ear. His breath tickled her ear.
“Oriel!” A high-pitched voice sounded behind them and they both turned in the direction. A short, curvy woman with deep mocha skin and long braided hair stood a few feet away. Her emerald green dress hung off her shoulders and flared out from her waist. Diamonds sparkled on her decolletage and wrist and fingers. She was breathtaking. Oriel nodded toward her, but Lyra noticed his guarded eyes. The negative mien didn’t suit him at all.
“How have you been, my sweet man?” The woman asked huskily, walking into him and embracing his body as if it were her own to touch as she pleased. Oriel patted her back lightly and backed up, holding her at arm’s length.
“Never better, Persimmon.” Lyra noticed his eyes looked bored. He scanned the room above Persimmon’s head, looking for a way out. The woman didn’t look defeated, however, quite the contrary. She placed a delicate hand on Oriel’s chest and looked up into his face.
“You don’t come into town anymore. Why is that?”
Oriel chuckled a dry laugh and didn’t return her gaze. “Why do you think?”
“You know I still welcome your company, Oriel.” The woman pressed herself to Oriel’s chest and Lyra got the sense that Oriel was angry. Attempting to appear as if she wasn’t listening, she shuffled to the side and studied the banquet table. This was clearly a personal matter. She was held back as Oriel grabbed her hand and pulled her to his side.
“This is my new friend, Lyra,” Oriel said.
The woman jolted and glanced at Lyra as if just noticing her presence. Lyra awkwardly raised a hand in greeting.
“Nice to meet your acquaintance,” Persimmon replied in a flat tone. She attempted to smile sweetly but it came off as a grimace. Oriel slung his arm around Lyra’s shoulder and moved close to her face.
“Let’s take our seat, Lyra, shall we?”
Lyra raised her eyebrows. “Sure, Oriel, that sounds fine.”
Persimmon smirked and turned abruptly, sidling up to another group of people. Oriel let out an audible sigh, removing his arm from her shoulders.
“Who was she?” Lyra couldn’t help but ask.
Oriel closed his eyes briefly. “A woman I was involved with for awhile. Until recently.” Pulling a heavy mahogany chair out for her near the head of the long, ornately designed table, he gestured for her to sit. Oriel took a seat next to her.
“I take it you parted on less than agreeable terms.” Lyra stated rather than asked as she took her seat. Oriel smiled and it reached his eyes this time.
“What gave that away? She lied to me. She runs the library--she’s a top scholar. But she’s fickle. She hid something from me that I needed. In truth, I could have given her a much worse punishment had I let the King know what she had done.”
“What had she done?”
“She hid some scrolls that Terrin and I needed. Claimed it was because she feared for my safety. Whether or not that is true, I really just believe she wanted to keep me from my work so I would pay more attention to her. She’s highly conceited, if you didn’t already notice.”
“Well, she is beautiful.”
Oriel gazed softly at her before replying. “So are you. Yet, I sense a beauty deep inside you that outshines even the lovely gold of your hair or the emerald of your eyes.” Lyra blushed and looked away from his intent gaze.
“That’s kind to say, Oriel. Thank you.”
Lyra noticed everyone was seated and the room had grown quiet. She swung her head in the direction everyone else’s heads were turned--the great double doors where Silo stood rooted to the floor like a beam. His loud, nasally voice rang out, “His Royal Majesty, King Terrin.”
They watched the large man sweep into the room in a blur of black and gray like a quickly approaching storm cloud, striding up to his chair which was pulled out by a servant.
He wore a high collared black long-sleeved tunic with small silver buttons down the front. No other embellishments adorned his clothing. His look was made complete with black pants and boots, his standard choices.
His eyes found Lyra immediately, and she inhaled sharply at the jolt in her body from his direct stare. He trailed his gaze down her neck and bodice and Lyra had the sense that he was undressing her with his eyes. A few people turned to look at the line of his sight, but they didn't seem to understand he was looking at her. As soon as his heated gaze was there, it was gone again, a bored expression taking over his face. He raised a glass of wine to his courtiers.
“To my court--eat, drink, and be merry.” All around her, people raised their glasses with robust laughter and took healthy sips before setting them down with a clink and resuming robust conversation with the escorts to their left or right. Lyra had Oriel to her left, and an older gentleman to her right. She was seven chairs down from the head of the table where the King sat.
“Does he have these dinners every night?” Lyra asked Oriel as their first course was brought out, an orange soup that smelled like squash and warm spices. Oriel took a slurp and licked his lips to catch the rest.
“No. Terrin is not a social man. He spends a lot of his time--or did spend--on a mission or journey of some kind. The dinners go on without him usually.”
Lyra nodded her head and brought her spoon full of soup to her lips. Warm and rich, it coated her tongue. It hit the spot. She finished the small bowl just in time for the main course to be brought out. Roast beef and jellied cranberries and heaping creamed potatoes. The smells alone had Lyra salivating. Digging into her meal, she tuned out the noisy people around her and focused on eating.
Oriel nudged her arm just as she was halfway through demolishing the potatoes. She turned to him and wiped her mouth with the napkin on her lap.
Oriel nodded across the table to their right. “See that woman dressed in yellow there? With the short gray hair?” Lyra spotted the elderly lady who was conversing intently with a young woman to her left. The woman’s face was turned away from her so she could only see the back of her head but her body was rigid and her lean indicated she was speaking about something she was invested in.
“I want you to read her emotions for me. Consider this part of your training.” He winked at her as she gaped.
“How do I begin to do that?” Lyra replied, doubtful she could follow through with the task.
Oriel leaned even closer to her so he was speaking into her ear.
“You know when you ignite your center?”
“Yes?”
“Find hers. Everyone has a center, even those without an aura. Close off the noise around you and find her center.”
Lyra took a deep breath and concentrated, starting in
to the woman’s back and trying to see through her. Nothing happened.
She turned to look at Oriel and then remembered his face was already inches from hers. Their lips brushed lightly at the contact and Lyra turned away, blushing madly.
Dear gods, that did not just happen.
“At least I took you to dinner before our first kiss,” Oriel quipped, his voice full of amusement. Her face reddened even more but her giggle erupted out of her before she could stop it. Oriel smiled brightly and eyed her mouth once more before speaking again.
“Focus. Look at the woman and ignite your own center. Seek her center and draw it out, find that connection.”
Lyra took a steadying breath and nodded before turning to the woman again. She was still turned away from her so she couldn’t see her face. Looking to the woman, she ignited her own center, the flowing heat circulating within her, and probed the woman with her mind. Closing her eyes briefly, she opened them again to see a faint purple glow within the woman as if she could see inside her.
“What does it feel like?” Oriel asked her.
Lyra concentrated on the woman’s glowing center, trying to pull meaning from it.
“Let go of your own emotions,” Oriel’s whisper tickled her ear. “Open up and receive her.”
Lyra closed her eyes and turned off the noise around her and all of the feelings in herself before opening her eyes again. She willed the woman to show herself. Finally, Lyra was filled with a heavy slam of anger before it faded quickly and siphoned off. Her center doused and she turned to Oriel. This time, she was sure not to accidentally kiss him.
“Anger. She’s angry.”
Oriel smiled broadly at her and placed his hand on her cheek. “You’re a natural.”
Lyra felt a flicker of warmth within her and she smiled. Oriel was turning out to be the best thing about this maniacal journey.
Suddenly, a scraping of chairs echoed around the room as people stood and looked to the head of the table. Lyra stood awkwardly, following suit. The King was standing, stormy eyes and his usual surly face flicked toward her and Oriel before addressing the rest of the people around the table.