The floor swept with an array of silver tiles, shadily mirroring the bodies that walked over it. The walls were of a pale beige colour, where two stripes of red preceded and followed one stripe of blue every few inches, marking the colours of Regitum’s flag.
Against the walls, carved statues of important moments in history were telling the story of a somewhat hazy antiquity of the Eastern and Western war. Even though soldiers who died as martyrs in Wold War IV were standing superbly by the visitors, Riley already knew that their death was in vain. Their families had suffered the loss of their sons. Women had wailed their bleeding daughters. Fathers had worked hard to shelter their children and wives but bombs bombarded them into scattered pieces over the bloody floor.
Suddenly, the guards stopped in place making the group discontinue their walk. They turned a half spin, and with a strong voice and confident posture, one of them announced—it was the one who had argued with Riley several minutes ago:
“You shall be separated. At this moment, each one of you shall be guided to their chamber. It had been picked by the king specifically. Therefore, no objection is allowed.”
Everyone nodded including Riley. She followed the guard’s lead, leaving everyone to their business. She tried to keep up with his pace, so she could read the name on the batch that was screwed into his armour.
“Your name is William?” she desperately tried to converse with him. He did not answer, but she waited for him to eventually yield and answer her silly question.
Paintings were carefully placed on the tall walls of the palace. They were paintings she had only seen in history books she had inquired from her rich customers. It was a shame how literature and art of the Old World had been obliterated during the wars. If one asked who Shelley or Kahlo were, no one would be fit enough to answer.
“You did not answer me,” she repeated impatiently.
“I don’t have to answer you, my lady. My name is not important. What is important is giving you the comfort you deserve.”
“Well, then, if you want my comfort, why don’t you answer my question?”
“Fair.” He nodded. “It is William.”
Without looking at her, he turned sharply to the left and walked through another endless hallway. Golden lights shining from the large and gold-encrusted chandeliers lit their way. The palace’s structure had been built to resemble a labyrinth in case someone wanted to escape. It took several years to walk around without getting lost at some point. Every hallway looked familiar, though walking through them was different from memorizing the blueprint.
“Do you like living here?” she inquired again. Those long steps she had to take in order to keep up with the tall guard had her breathing rapidly.
“I don’t live to be happy. I live to serve the king,” he answered solemnly.
“Serving the king ought to make you happy, no?” She hoped he would answer straight away. If he said yes, it would be a reflex of a brainwashed puppet. If he said no, he would be punished.
The smart man did not answer her but turned to the right again. He stopped in front of another large door. This time, it was not double, though it was still carved with strange designs to add to the aesthetic nature of the palace.
Finally, as the door swung open, Riley soon forgot that there was a figure of a tall dangerous man next to her and focused on the ridiculously colossal bed chamber.
“I will leave you to rest, Miss Red,” William announced and retrieved his presence, disappearing behind the closed door.
Riley turned around and took in her surroundings. In the middle of the room, glued to the wall, erected a king size bed of antique dark red satin fabric. The pillow case was drowning under the floral bedspread. The golden dust ruffle extended down the bed, covering its long legs. Two small chandeliers rose next to the wine-coloured headboard. A floral curtain, the same colour as the bed sheets, hung above in a triangular shape. The bed was pushed into the pink-brownish wallpapered wall with two raspberry nightstands on its sides. The rug was a pale green and baby pink, reflecting the tints of nature. Three chairs were set aside for her comfort and in the middle, there was a small round wooden table with a letter. Several archaic windows surrounded the room, letting the faint light of the setting sun peek inside. On her left, a patterned zigzag closet was gently placed in the shadows.
Riley let out a muffled breath and walked towards the letter on the table. It was sealed with the face of that vicious lion. Popping it open, she retrieved the beige fabric-like paper and read over the curved letters. She really did not understand the need behind wanting to look royal when a simple Times New Roman font would have sufficed.
From the Freedian Palace of The East – Written by the hand of the king with the Utmost respect
Dear Riley Red,
Cirque Et Feu is most welcome in the Freedian Palace for as long as it desires. Your fellow co-workers and yourself will be treated as part of the Royal Family for the time of your stay.
I sincerely hope you accept your chamber as your new place to rest through your visit. William G. will be your personal sentinel, and if you are not pleased with his conduct, do not hesitate to address his guardian Norman, and report the inconvenience.
I candidly hope to see you this evening.
Signed by the king:
Christopher Robin Freedian
Riley raised her eyebrows in surprise. She did not get the chance to speak with any of the royals and already the king had left a personal note for her upon her arrival. He must have done the same with the other members of the circus.
Carefully she placed the envelope on the table again as she heard a knock on the door. As soon as she opened it, five female servants waltzed inside. In their hands were towels, flowers, and chocolate. There were hundreds of chocolate bars wrapped in a perfect blue cover. She watched the girls stand co-ordinately next to each other with blank expressions.
Riley frowned and a foreign feeling overwhelmed her when they bowed, as if she were a princess.
“Hello?” she greeted them at last.
The first one with the wrinkles and blond hair smiled robotically. The second one with the red curls and youthful features smiled as well, and the other three followed the first two’s lead.
“These are for our lady after the shower.” The old woman put the towels on the bed gently.
“These are for our lady as a welcome gesture inside the palace.” The redhead put the bouquet of roses next to the envelope on the small table.
“These are for our lady to enjoy the taste and fill her desire with the sugars,” the third one said and the two other girls put their chocolate baskets on the floor next to the chair’s legs.
Riley bet if she asked them a question they would only smile and bow again, which put her at unease.
“Uh, thank you?” She awkwardly waited for them to leave but they remained standing in their places like statues. “What else…”
The elderly woman interrupted her by raising her hand politely.
“Una here will show you to your closet. Does our lady need anything else?” she asked her, fixing her gaze on the floor, specifically on Riley’s feet.
Riley wiggled her toes uncomfortably and shook her head.
“You may head out.” She excused them and was soon left alone with the redhead. She did not look above fifteen.
“Would your majesty like to see her closet at the moment?” Una asked her courteously.
“Yes, and soon left alone.” Riley sighed and followed Una to the right side of the large bedroom.
Una held a hand against the wall. An invisible door, the same colour of the wall, clicked open.
Endless aisles of elegant clothes and lingerie extended against the tight walls. She did not know where to look first. It looked as if the entire wardrobe of the most important designers was dumped there. It must have cost the king a fortune, not that he minded.
“Our lady—”
“Can you stop calling me ‘our lady’? It’s strange
,” Riley snapped at the servant who only nodded with a smile.
“What would you like me to call you?”
“Riley would suffice.”
“But—”
“Riley,” Riley insisted as she ran her hand through the soft fabrics of the different dresses.
I cannot wait to meet the king, she thought. However long it would take, she was ready to put on a nice dress and add small stains of royal blood.
Chapter 7
The crew’s daily routine changed drastically ever since they moved to the palace. They were used to staying on the road for a long period of time, bolting from one arena to another, sometimes villages, sometimes countries apart. They had a bountiful of money from their shows, but a big sum was spent on charging their bus, buying supplies, and paying the main team members as well as the assisting crew in the arena.
Sometimes, the lot of them would wake to continuous clangour outside the bus coming from the cities or the resonance of the wheels against the concrete. Usually the geniality of the twins, Mathew’s constant jokes with Marcus, and Rufus’s tendency to calm everyone down when it would get out of control was what kept them sane and excited for their next stop.
They carried on as such for years that life on the road became a part of them. Toiling to give the best shows in the preforming business was not much of a job as it was a passion they looked forward to day after day.
That way, the castle changed their lives.
They were waking up early in the morning, taking a calming boiling shower in their large bathrooms, having a healthy rich breakfast in the kitchen by their chambers, and heading for the common room at the end of the West Wing corridor to chat and relax before they went to practice in the fourth tower, where a gigantic studio was emptied and renovated just so they could rehearse for their show on Independence Day. As much as they were wont to lead a nomadic life, getting a sort of a vacation in the castle was relieving and hectic at the same time.
“It’s strange we haven’t met the king yet,” Fay suggested once as they were drinking their coffee in the common room.
“I heard he is in the West for some royal affairs,” Mathew answered and he lied on the cushion spread at the far left corner of the room. It was way more comfortable than his bunk bed in the bus.
“Shouldn’t we really care about the crew that’s going to work with us than meeting the king for now?” Charlotte intervened.
“Love,” Marcus pulled her by his side and kissed her forehead, “the king had a special order for us to come here. I doubt they would be a pain in the arse. We are the masters of the show. Even if they work in the castle, they cannot tell us what to do.”
“If the king wants you to cut your hand off, you will have to cut it.” Fay rolled her eyes.
“Some imagination this kid has,” Marcus chuckled.
Fay glanced at Mathew and grunted lowly.
“Where’s Riley?” Rufus asked looking around.
“She must still be taking her long shower. I can’t blame her. You’d have to drag yourself out of the tub in those bathrooms. It’s sick!” Mathew smiled dreamily.
A few hours later, they were guided to the fourth tower, each one with their own assigned guard. The studio was gigantic, it was difficult to see its end. Riley looked around astounded. She expected it to be spectacular, but she did not expect it to be equipped with technological gadgets and devices, from lighting to ropes to some machines she did not know the use of.
The room was crawling with tech guys, decorators, visual effect specialists standing behind their screens, and all the runners.
“This is too big, even for us,” Riley whispered to Rufus.
“We have to avail of everything we’ve got,” he replied.
“Like hell I will. Look at this swing!” she exhaled looking up. A large swing with one flat seat and no back was decorated with vines and red roses.
“What I’m thinking of is how we’re going to manage to get in the oxens.” He winked at Riley. If no animals were allowed inside the kingdom, then she cannot create the illusion of the oxens.
“If they give us a hard time to perform this act, we’ll use another trick in the book,” Riley whispered and tapped the side of her head with her index finger.
Rufus nodded and returned to watching everyone working around.
“I definitely can see some bulls in here.” Fay appeared behind them. Riley snickered and turned to her.
“Get your head out of your pants.”
“She’s not the only one who could see animals. There are some vixens there too,” Mathew commented and joined them with a whistle.
“Have your own private shows at night after our main performance is finished,” Riley told both of her friends laughing. “Let’s stay professional for the king.”
“He ain’t even here.” Mathew touched Riley’s shoulder and leaned in to whisper. “But an advice coming from a professional, I’ll take it.”
Riley raised an eyebrow. “Whenever you need it.” She winked and left them to introduce herself to the others.
For a month, Cirque Et Feu kept practicing and enhancing their performance with whatever means they had gotten. The king hadn’t returned from his travels yet and Riley was getting impatient. How long was she going to wait until she would meet him?
She usually took long walks in the garden as she edited the script for their show or secluded herself with her own mind. She was always accompanied by William but when enough guards were roaming the garden, William agreed to give her some time for herself.
The golden hue sheltering the Royal Freedian garden gave a rather calm and rich atmosphere to everything around. It was as if the sun had chosen that ground to bathe at every sunset and wrap its gilded rays around the blooming variety of florets. Vast pathways of old bricks stretched in front of the castle, with rainbows of floral walls rising to create an enchanted labyrinth. Riley loitered through those lanes without considering the way back. She did not care if she got lost in that designed paradise with a décor that descended from every era in the last thousand years.
As she turned, a wall of black roses arose to her left and right, sandwiching her in between. All roses had been previously red in Noteram. After the war, chemicals began killing humans and metamorphosing plantations and animals into new species. Black roses were one of them. Spikes surrounded their dark green stems, creating a barrier between her and the other pathway behind the wall.
As high as the wall was, a shadow haunted her from one path to another. She tried to ignore it, thinking it may be one of the gardeners or the guards. It was not. A pair of blue eyes lurked in the darkness, and two pink lips quirked up every time she gasped at the sound of footsteps.
Her long dress, immersed in the darkness of the bluish night, created a contrast with the amber hue of sunset. It floated in a circle as she turned around to see who was enjoying being her shadow. Nobody was there.
“You should not linger in the dark.” She squinted and a smirk playfully played on her lips.
A stern body of a tall man stepped out of the dimness from behind the wall. Riley raised her eyes to meet her admirer. The shadows unveiled the face of divine beauty. His dark brown hair was pushed back to give his fathomless blue eyes their right to emit a thousand twinkling star. His jaw clenched as he observed her. She gained a frisky grin when he caught her staring at his lips.
“I can see your fascination with black roses.” He approached her slowly. The night was already setting and the sky had switched its golden dress with the dark blue one to match Riley’s.
“The perianth of that rose is rather peculiar.” He passed his finger over one of the flowers attached to the wall and tore it from its roots. “It shifts from green to grey.”
“It’s beautiful.” She found herself saying.
As she shifted her gaze to his lips, every word he had said was like a sweet poem. She did not focus on what he was voicing, as much as she focused on the luring appeal that glorified that man.
And who was he even?
His lazy blue eyes shifted in her direction, the black rose still securely wrapped between his long fingers.
“The blacker the petals get, the more striking they look.” He smiled.
“But when you touch the stems, their spikes will make you bleed, which makes them dangerous as well.”
His eyes shifted to her lips and he licked his, slowly.
“If you don’t take chances, then you are not alive.”
The nightingale passed above them bidding them goodnight. It was odd that even the darkness of the night added to his enticing beauty. It was as if it had engulfed them in a world of their own. Then something snapped inside Riley’s restless brain. The spell that had bound her to that stranger was broken and brought her back to reality.
“If you want to impress me, talk about literature. Flowers are the least of my interests.” She casually turned and let her sight wander around the manor.
“Literature? Do you like Gerard’s Country of Order?” he questioned her without any facial expression that showed interest.
The man was talking about Governmental Poetry. After World War IV, any type of free literature had been obliterated. The only published poetry was that written by insiders in the government, praising its reign and the king. Even though there were secret movements, distributing papers among the crowd, none had reached its purpose. Very few were able to obtain these revolutionary works. The poets that were able to deliver the message to a larger audience were hanged. All their papers, from birth certificates to death certificates, disappeared.
Riley was not only interested in current poetry. She had gone through every sort of movement that had existed in history because of the books she was able to get. Those books only existed in the Royal Library, but copies of them were made by insiders, and delivered to her by her clients. Going through poetic lore was a dangerous act against the government. It was dangerous because old poets started revolutions and altered the laws as people knew it, not only in Old Noteram, but also in the East in general, even in the West.
If old Westerners saw what the New West had done to the world, it would have died with grief. Old West had good intentions in building a new world, in starting a world free of dictatorship, of fear of the other. But it fell into its own trap, and now it was the biggest dictator in the world.
Red Circus Page 6