by Vicky Savage
General LeGare has assigned a new guard to me until Patrick’s back on the job. He’s introduced as Josh Rogers. Kneeling before me, he pledges to protect me with his life, and yada, yada. It’s a little dramatic and kind of awkward, but I thank him, and we shake hands. Ralston helps me into the waiting carriage and climbs in behind me.
The ride to Warrington Village passes quickly. Ralston is ebullient about my upcoming visit to Arumel. His bubbly enthusiasm splashes over onto me, and I find myself becoming excited about the trip also. Our driver parks the carriage a few doors away from Bartlett’s Silversmiths. Ralston explains to my new guard and the driver that we expect to be inside the shop for several hours, and they should get lunch or find something to occupy themselves for a time. Josh refuses to leave his post, and says he’ll wait outside Bartlett’s shop, but the driver happily saunters off to the local pub.
As we reach the shop door, my eyes rest on a dark figure standing on the sidewalk to our left. My breath hitches in my throat. “Ralston, look,” I murmur. “It’s him. The guy who’s been following me.”
Ralston pivots around. The man studies the window display of the local men’s store, as if unaware of our presence. Then he turns on his heel and ambles away, without a backward glance.
“Are you certain?” Ralston says. “Shall I have Josh follow him?”
“It’s him, I’m sure. But he disappeared down that alley. Let’s just get this meeting over with. If he’s around when we come out, I’ll send Josh after him.”
Lady Lorelei greets us at the door and welcomes us inside. She escorts us to a private room in the back of the store. “I’m delighted to see you again so soon, Cousin,” she says. “We received your wedding invitation. Jacob and I are looking forward to attending. May I offer you and Professor Ralston some refreshment?”
“No, thank you,” I say. Ralston and I take seats at the gleaming mahogany table. “I’m happy you’re coming to the wedding. Sorry about the short notice, but Mother … well, she wanted to see us married sooner rather than later.”
“Do not trouble yourself about the timing. No one will lightly miss the opportunity to attend the wedding of the crown princess. No doubt you shall have an abundant crowd of well-wishers. How is the queen faring these days?”
“She has good days and bad, but the wedding preparations have cheered her,” I say.
Lady Lorelei’s laugh tinkles like wind chimes. “I am certain of that. Cousin Eleanor has always been at her best when pomp and pageantry are involved. Now, what may I do for you, Princess?”
Unfolding my sketch and placing it on the table in front of Lorelei, I say, “I need a wedding ring for Ryder. Would you be able make it for me? You did such an amazing job with my ring. It’s truly a work of art.” I hold out my left hand, allowing the light to dance across the stones.
“Ah well, I was merely the craftsman. Your fiancé was the artist, and I believe you were the inspiration, Cousin. Although, I do admit it is one of my favorite pieces.” Her cheeks flush modestly. Sliding my sketch closer to her, she studies it carefully.
“If you don’t have time to finish it before the wedding, it’s not a problem,” I say. “I could borrow a ring for the ceremony and give this one to Ryder later.”
“No. That will not be necessary. It’s a lovely design, but not difficult to create. I will have it for you prior to the nuptials. Interlocking annuli, the symbol of eternity. It’s quite moving, really. I suggest a small groove around the top and bottom of the band to form a frame for your design.”
“Yes, that’s a great idea,” I say.
“It will be my pleasure to craft this for you, Princess. Do you wish to have an inscription?”
An inscription hadn’t occurred to me. My mind skims across the possibilities. “Let me think about that. I’ll let you know in the next few days.”
“Certainly. That will be fine. But that was easy. What else may I do for you today?”
Straightening my posture, I launch into my little speech. “Actually, there is something else. Lady Lorelei, I have a proposal for your consideration. But, I must ask you to keep the matter strictly confidential. You may tell Lord Bartlett, but no one else. My wellbeing could depend on it. Do I have your word?”
“Goodness, Cousin, this sounds momentous. Shall I ask Jacob to join us?”
I glance at Ralston, who nods almost imperceptibly. “Yes, if you would be more comfortable. Please do so,” I say.
She rises gracefully and moves smoothly from the room, returning not two minutes later with Jacob at her side. He soberly bows and kisses my hand before seating himself next to Lorelei.
“What can we do for you, Cousin?” Lorelei asks. “We give you our word that this conversation will remain confidential.”
She turns to Jacob. “Yes. You have my word, Princess. Nothing you tell us shall leave this room,” he says.
Okay, here goes. “Since I will undoubtedly become queen sooner rather than later, I’ve given a lot of thought to the future of Domerica, and what will happen to the country should I be unable to serve. My cousin Osrielle is a sweet and bright girl, but she has told me many times how unhappy she is living at the palace, and that she has no desire to be queen now or ever. In addition, she’s obviously not ready to rule the country at this time. So, after careful consideration, I’ve decided to remove her from the royal line of succession and to declare my own heir apparent. I would like that to be you, Lorelei.”
The smallest tremor of shock ripples across her lovely face. She reaches for Jacob’s hand, and they gaze briefly into each other’s eyes, communicating silent thoughts. Her brows arch slightly and Jacob nods. Returning her focus to me, she says, “Cousin, I am honored that you think so highly of me as to bestow this tribute upon me. I feel humbled, and perhaps a bit unworthy. If it is your desire that I stand next to you in the line of succession, it will be my pleasure to serve you in that way.”
My whole body sighs in relief. “Thank you, Lorelei.” Her lips bow demurely in response.
“To better ensure the confidentially of my actions, I plan to have the papers drawn up by my father’s lawyer at the Enclave. A royal decree, specifically an Act of Succession, to be signed by me after I am queen, is all that’s required. If you’re in agreement, I’ll visit Father within the next day or two, to put everything in order. That way, the documents will be complete and ready for my signature when the time comes.”
“Of course. We are in agreement. Conduct the matter as you see fit, Princess. I am at your service,” Lorelei says. “May I ask, a question, though?”
“Ask as many questions as you want,” I tell her.
She hesitates slightly. “What of Prince Harold? Do you intend to keep him on as Lord High Steward? Do you fear retaliation from him when he discovers your actions regarding his daughter?”
I was hoping to avoid this subject, but she’s helping me out, so she has a right to know. “I don’t intend to keep him on as Lord High Steward,” I say. “We don’t really see eye-to-eye on many issues relating to the governance of Domerica. And, since Osrielle will no longer be in the line of succession, there’s no reason for them to remain at court.”
My hand unconsciously goes to the hilt of my sword. “As far as retaliation goes, we’ve hired an independent investigator to look into the rumors we’d previously discussed, but so far nothing has been linked to Harold. On the other hand, he strongly implied that he was responsible for the theft of my Skorplings. I’ve no doubt he can be dangerous, and that he’ll be furious with my actions. At this point, I have no concrete reason to think he’d try to retaliate. But I am being cautious.”
“Very well. I pray your judgment is sound on that issue, Cousin. People have murdered for far less a prize than the crown.”
Gulp. “I’m aware of that,” I say, remembering my stalker is right here in Warrington. I stand and everyone else rises also. “May I ask one more favor, Lorelei? Does Bartlett’s have a back entrance? I have some private matters to at
tend to, and prefer not to be seen leaving your shop.”
Unfazed by my odd request, she says, “Of course. Follow me.” Ralston and I say our goodbyes to Jacob before Lorelei leads us through a dimly lit storage room to a small metal door. “Be safe, Princess,” she says placing her hand on my arm.
“I will, Lorelei. And thank you.”
The back door opens out into a small side street. Ralston and I quickly make our way to the alley where Asher’s already waiting for me, his back propped against the building.
“Right on time,” he says with a slow smile. “Professor.” He nods to Ralston. “Are you ready, Jade?”
“Just a second,” I say. “Rals, are you sure you can handle everything here? I mean what if the new guard gets restless and wants to come looking for me?”
Ralston smiles and places a hand on my shoulder. “He’s paid not to become restless and not to be overly inquisitive. I’ll make certain the young fellow gets something to eat. Enjoy yourself. Everything here will be fine.”
I unbuckle my katana and give it to him. Then I lean in and kiss his cheek. “Thanks Rals. Don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“All in a day’s work, old girl,” he says with a smile.
I take hold of Asher’s hand, gripping it firmly.
Zzzt. We’re gone.
THIRTY-SEVEN
We land in a small lamp-lit room. A cluster of plush, comfortable-looking chairs is arranged around a small glass table. The peaceful sounds of a plinking fountain and the aromas of eucalyptus and cucumber convey the impression of a waiting room in a swanky spa.
“Where are we?” I ask.
“It’s a portal room. The community provides it for the use of the Transcenders and others who may be hosting … well, foreign visitors from time to time. We could have arrived directly on the grounds of the estate, but I wanted you to get a feel for the community before you meet the others.”
“All right. Sounds good.”
Asher opens the door for me. He wasn’t kidding about the portal thing. I feel as if I’ve stepped into a completely different universe, and I guess I have. The people look unlike anything I’m used to and, really, one or two of them probably don’t qualify as people. There are definitely some species here I don’t recognize. Struggling to keep my composure, I notice most everyone is dressed in long robes or flowy pajama-like tunics and pants. But a few wear crisp uniforms of different styles and colors. They pass by alone or in groups, speaking in hushed tones and a variety of languages. I feel like a there’s a flashing neon outsider sign glued to my forehead.
We’re in a giant, concrete building with windowless, curved walls. A huge plexiglass-like cylinder runs through the middle of the floor with endless moving walkways on either side. Blue light emanates from arches of opaque tubing running along the ceiling and walls. The whole scene reminds me of an elaborate Halloween party in a hip underground club.
Asher and I step onto the moving walkway and fall into the flow of the crowd. A speeding flash of something zooms through the opaque center cylinder, causing me to recoil in fright. I’m beginning to wonder if I made the right decision in coming here.
Asher takes my hand. “It’s okay, Jade. This is the subway station. That’s a high-speed pneumatic tube,” he says, nodding to the structure in the middle. “The trains are propelled by pressurized air. We’re not taking the train, though. We’ll be out of here in a minute or two.”
We pick up our pace and bypass a number of people on the walkway. Several of them nod and smile at Asher. One man crosses his arm over his chest. “Gloria,” he says bowing his head.
Asher smiles. “Good morning,” he replies.
A row of long escalators appears on our right. Asher guides me off the walkway and onto one of the escalators. Ascending quickly, we reach ground level and step through an archway into the bright sunlight. Unnerved by our subterranean jaunt, I fill my lungs with the wonderfully fresh air, grateful to be out in the open.
The cityscape stretched out before me is absolutely stunning. Towering buildings made mostly of glass and steel gleam in the sunlight. The architecture is ultramodern, futuristic even, with angles and spiral configurations I’ve never seen. Trees and meticulously manicured lawns and flowerbeds surround and blend with each structure in ingenious indoor/outdoor designs, as if each building simply sprouted and grew organically where it stands, like some celestial gardener found a way to cultivate a city from skyscraper seeds.
“At the risk of sounding dumbstruck,” I say. “Wow!”
“I know, right?” Asher smiles wryly. “This is the new part of the city. I confess I wanted to impress you.”
“Mission accomplished, Ash. Are you sure we’re still in the twenty-first century?”
“Yes. The city’s just a bit more progressive in its design than most. Let’s get a car. I’ll take you on a little tour.”
We walk down a glittering, white sidewalk clean enough to eat off of. More people smile and nod at us. Everyone seems very friendly. A small force of workers in white uniforms carries brooms and dust pans. Moving along the sidewalk, they sweep every inch as they go. Another gray-robed man does the arm-over-the-chest thing to Asher. “Gloria,” he says.
Asher nods politely.
“Why do people call you Gloria?” I ask.
Asher laughs. “They’re not calling me Gloria. It’s a term of respect. Some people think Transcenders are supposed to be revered, like super heroes or something. It’s sort of embarrassing.”
A line of spotless silver-and-blue vehicles is parked along one side of the road. They’re identical, except in size—some have two seats, some four, and others are the size of small vans. Two men in overalls hover over a car, diligently polishing headlamps and windows. Asher walks to one of the two-seaters and opens the passenger door for me. “Hop in,” he says.
“Geeze, how do you tell which one is yours?” I ask. “They all look alike.”
“They’re community cars.” Asher settles himself on the driver’s side. “Anyone who’s registered can use them.” He presses the pad of his thumb onto a small round control on the dashboard, and the engine quietly comes to life. “The thumb scan identifies me as an authorized user.”
Reaching for my seat belt, I discover there is none. Alarmed, I notice there is also no steering wheel in front of Asher.
“How do you drive these things? Foot pedals?”
“No, they drive themselves. You just tell them where you want to go. He presses another button on the dash and a screen lights up displaying a map.
“Good morning Asher Steele. Where may I take you?” a pleasant woman’s voice asks.
“I’m going home, but we’d like a short tour of the city first. Do you have any pre-programmed tours?”
“Yes. Please select your preference from the menu on the screen. The displayed routes all terminate within two miles of your home.”
A menu appears offering a variety of different options, such as Old Town, Government Buildings, Notable Homes and Estates.
Asher touches the one that says: Kistlethorn Park and Granbury Museum. “This is an interesting route, and I’ll bet you’ve never seen a Kistlethorn tree before.”
I shake my head.
“You’ll get a good feel for the community, and we’ll still be home in time for lunch.”
The car pulls away smoothly from the curb and joins the flow of traffic. Despite my unease at having no manual controls inside the cab, the car seems to know what it’s doing. Once out on the road, I realize there are no traffic signals. “How come there aren’t any traffic lights or seatbelts?” I ask.
“There hasn’t been a car wreck in years. Traffic is precisely controlled via satellite, with lots of backup in case of a malfunction. Plus, these cars are titanium-reinforced, practically crash-proof.”
The pleasant woman’s voice mentions various points of interest on the right or left of our route as we ride along. Asher adds a few comments of his own along the way. The Commun
ity Hall is an enormous granite building. Asher tells me the ruling body of Arumel has its offices there. He says the building also houses the Arumel History Museum and the Hall of Records.
We turn into Kistlethorn Park through huge green iron gates. At first it looks like any other big city park, but my jaw drops in wonder when the Kistlethorn trees come into view. Like an army of black goblins escaping from the ground, their trunks twist and strain upward, long gnarled branches stretching for the sky, shiny and black as polished marble. Remarkably, the leaves are shiny-black also. The color reminds me of Ryder’s hair, and I shudder to think what he would do if he knew where I was at this moment and who I was with. Once we’re married and settled, I won’t need to lie anymore. I’ll never be able to tell him everything about myself, but at least I can live honestly going forward.