“I am not interested in new poetry,” she commented lightly and sniffed a black rose. It was odourless.
“Then which one are you interested in?” His charming smile was back. And for a moment, Riley almost faltered and lost focus, but then she pulled herself together and shrugged.
“You can’t tell me you don’t know about Blake or Wordsworth. They are the founders of the Romantic Movement, the most interesting one to me so far. The Victorian movement was a bit dull,” she told him, careless of his scrutinizing eyes.
“How do you know all of this? Not many are aware of ancient literature, it is almost extinct.” He looked neither impressed nor inconsiderate. He only listened carefully.
“I have my own resources.”
“Well, truly, Robert Browning was a genius. Porphyria’s Lover was a piece of art.”
She was fascinated by his knowledge of such an old poem. He should be someone important in the castle.
“It is indeed. It is one of the rare Victorian poems I like.”
He did not answer but shifted his eyes towards her and smiled again. She observed the way he quirked up the corner of his mouth in a beaming contagious smile. It did not look innocent, nor honest, not even angelic. It looked like a serene sea that invited you for a dive on a hot summer day, but once you dipped your body inside, the sharks would tear your flesh and turn the tranquillity into a bloodbath. It looked like the devil had worn the mask of the lamb, luring the prey right into the trap, yet she was willing to fall under, at least for one night.
“You are quite a name around the Freedian castle, Riley Red,” he said looking straight ahead as they walked between the walls.
Riley frowned and turned to meet his eyes, but he kept tracing invisible steps.
“How do you know who I am?”
“Cirque Et Feu is a widely recognized circus. You have quite the audience when you escape those oxen.”
Her tense muscles relaxed. She looked away into the night.
“You mean to tell me you attended our show.”
“I don’t follow a circus around the country aimlessly, but I have heard the king say you are a Femme Fatale.”
“Who exactly are you, sir?” She stopped in her place and felt the chilliness of the night crawl under her pale skin.
The only response she was able to pull out of him was his ravishing sinister smile and his overwhelming silence.
Something vibrated in his chest pocket.
It was then that she noticed his outfit. They resembled those of the military of the West, but instead, they held the badge of the East. He must be a soldier of the king. But how was he able to flee his duty and wander aimlessly in the Royal Garden to flirt with the newcomer?
“I will be right there,” he answered his phone then locked it.
“Duty calls?”
“I have to depart, now,” he announced and did not bow. “I will see you soon enough, Red.”
His accent was somewhere between eastern and western. Riley’s eyes diverted to the thing he had placed in her hand. It was the black rose he had pulled out earlier, but now the spikes were gone as well as he.
Chapter 8
There had been a lot of expectations when she first stepped onto the palace grounds. Riley had calculated every single one of them carefully. She had already taken her precautions and measured the level of consequences she would have to face in case she was exposed. A few days later, Una entered Riley’s room with surprising news.
“Riley, would you like for me to show you the dress the king picked for you to wear tonight?”
“A dress the king picked?”
“He is careful when it comes to his choice of guests, my l– Riley. The dress is strikingly beautiful.”
“Show me. Show me, whatever.” She waved her hand around and watched the young servant.
Una walked graciously to the middle of the closet and retrieved the beautiful dress. It dropped to the floor. It was wrapped twice around the chest and it weaved its way above one shoulder. From the waist down, it elegantly fell in large waves and brushed the polished floor under it.
Riley found herself clutching it and posing it over her body. A large mirror hung from the far ceiling to the ground. She stared at her reflection and was thirsty to see it fit her body perfectly.
“There’s still the underwear, Riley,” Una spoke in the back. Riley turned and watched the servant hand it to her. They were of black lace and silver linen. A bit too revealing for Riley’s taste.
Riley pondered a little at the pieces of fabric looking from the mirror to the servant to herself again. This must be it. This must be it! Riley pressed her lips together then pursed them. Her reputation must have reached him.
Riley turned to the mirror again and contemplated her reflection. This time, it smiled encouragingly, heartening her to seize the possibly fading opportunity.
“Is everything okay, Riley?” Una questioned from behind. The girl did not move as though if she made an unwanted step, a bolt of lightning would strike and dissolve her into nothingness.
“Everything is perfect.” Riley smirked. “What is the occasion of such clothes?”
“There is a banquet with our king tonight, here in the first segment of the palace.” Una smiled gently and moved her gaze down to the floor. She placed the lingerie where they belonged and waited.
“A banquet? Is it not quite early for a feast? I mean the king must have just arrived.” Riley did not want to look extremely excited. And quite frankly, it did sound odd to be treated that flawlessly. The king did not know he was already signing his death certificate.
“Our king likes to make his guests feel at ease especially if he’s around. I hope you don’t disapprove of that.” The last sentence sounded like a plea rather than curiosity. Una was a puppet and immediately off Riley’s list, unlike William.
“Of course not. We serve the king. Whatever he does is for the best of his people. No?” She squinted and waited for Una’s reply.
To her disappointment, the little redhead nodded enthusiastically before standing like a mannequin again.
“You may leave me to enjoy my solitude, Una,” Riley demanded and the young servant did as she was told, without a word.
Rufus Patrick lied on his bed.
The small chamber fit him well. He did not mind staying in one of the middle-class bedrooms. Looking into one of the performing arts magazines on his tablet, he heard a knock on the door.
“Come in!” He shouted through the thick wall.
Quinton, his personal guard, entered and hastily took the usual straight and official position. His eyes focused on the ceiling, his jaw permanently clenched.
“May I help you?”
“Sir, I come here on behalf of the Ministry of International Relations. Lord Charles Arnold would like to have a word with you. If you please, you shall accompany me.”
Rufus sighed. He was not in a look fit to have meetings. Glancing at the mirror, he ran his hand through his short white hair and followed the steps of his protector. A few hairs slid from the tips of Rufus’s fingers, but he did not have the energy to ponder over it.
The Bureau of International Relations was the most modest one of all the ministries. It was located in the second tower of the Freedian Palace and protected by a few royal guards. Rufus took a seat on the set of leather couches outside the office and stared around him. Counting the artefacts that designed the walls, the floors, and the tables was exhausting.
Cameras were squeezed into every corner, and the eyes of the guards that stood at the door of Charles Arnold’s office turned around the room then were fixed on Rufus. He did not know whether he should seek ways to assure them that he was no threat at all or simply ignore their rude scrutinizing gazes.
An hour later, the door of the office opened and the two guards, harmoniously, stepped aside.
Charles Arnold and another lad were still exchanging an intense dialogue.
“These houses are too important. There a
re many people perishing under the bridges, dying for bread. Nature is obliterated and every acre of green has been replaced with houses. I beg the king to find us a way to expand the city of Caligo and build those extra lodgings for the poor,” the man pleaded. His glittering eyes were full of hope and desperation for the aid he sought from the king.
“I assure you, your file will be deposited on the king’s desk very soon. His majesty is working on a far more important project at the moment, but do not fear anything. I will make sure that he will take a look at it, and hopefully your houses will be built,” Arnold replied with the sincerest gestures, tapping the man’s shoulders and kindly smiling.
“You shall be a true hero when North Caligo is saved, and the economy of South Caligo would not be the only stable one.”
“Have a good day, sir.”
The representative nodded politely at Arnold then at Rufus and was gently escorted outside the tower with two mightily built guards.
“I believe you are Rufus Patrick?” Charles diverted his gaze towards Rufus. His gentle smile was contagious.
“I am.” Rufus immediately stood up and shook the minister’s hand.
He was a forty-year-old looking chap. His pale blond hair fell to the front, hiding some of the white roots. The blue in his eyes was a soothing sight to gaze at; it made him look like a concerned father and Regitum was his child.
“You may enter my office, sir.” Arnold beckoned towards the chair next to his mahogany desk and followed after his guest. The click of the door closing behind them marked their privacy.
Rufus sat down and watched him sit behind his desk. Degrees and PhDs hung against the blue wallpaper, showing off the accomplishments of a very clever and ambitious man.
“So, do you like the palace so far?” he asked him politely, intertwining his fingers and laying his chin on them.
“It is… quite enormous.” Rufus struggled to say something meticulous and splendid about it, but it was stuck in his throat along with many curses he would willingly throw at the king.
“Two years of nonstop work, and we come out with a work of art that marks our history.” Charles smiled dreamily.
“I have been asked here for what purpose?” Rufus questioned the man. He did not enjoy exchanging pleasantries with the Golden Class.
“Truly, it was upon the request from our king. He had suggested that we make use of Cirque Et Feu in ways your crew had never imagined, much as yourself.”
At the mention of his lifelong accomplishment, Rufus frowned.
“I thought we were here to perform for Regitum’s celebration of independence and nothing more.”
“That is not why you had been called, Patrick. The king had been thinking about this ever since he saw you on national television and examined the audience you usually attract. It is from all the classes of society, the poor, the rich, women, children, hell even beggars… those scoundrels.” He laughed. Rufus cringed at his disrespect, but Charles ignored it and the gleam in his eyes never disappeared. If Rufus were not aware of the devilish methods of the government, he would have fallen under Charles’s charm and believed the man had good intentions. Eventually, the ministry he worked for was called Ministry of International Relations. It was supposed to build strong grounds between Regitum and the rest of the Notermese countries, between Noteram and the rest of the Eastern continents, as well as Regitum and the West to respect the Treaty.
“What does his majesty desire?” Rufus questioned.
“Since you are a famous circus and you have travelled around the East, your good reputation echoes everywhere. We’ve been watching you perform in the studio for over a month, and we’ve seen the way you work. The king would like you to start your own TV show and broadcast it worldwide.”
Rufus stared at Arnold in disbelief. Moving his circus to the television business was never his intention but it would give them a great push. It was a big decision. How would he handle it if he only had a month to live?
“I think you are already aware that I do not have much time left,” Rufus informed him cautiously. The government knew their past, their present, and planned their future. Whatever they were going through—health, relationship, or work—was exposed to the government.
“We are well aware of that. We have already scanned your files and social security number. Do not fear. The government knows everything and we understand you.”
“Then, how would I give away the circus to a TV show when I know I am not going to be here for long?”
“Are you doubting the government’s responsibility towards your circus, sir?” Arnold’s eyes squinted questionably. They did not look friendly anymore.
“If you’ll excuse me, Sir Charles, but I have never doubted the power of the king. I am only concerned about the wellbeing of my family. In case the show does not succeed, I don’t want them scattered on the street as forgotten stars.”
“I can promise you that the show is going to be a huge hit. People will be watching and getting too caught up in it they would forget their own problems.”
Rufus did not know why, but he was uncomfortable having this conversation with this man. Arnold drew his friendly face on again.
“I can assure you, everything is for the good of the people. You are amongst the people, so you will benefit from this.”
“My concern does not lie in the financial—”
“I did not mean solely the financial side. You will gain fame, be requested in places you have never visited before and will have the chance to experience TV screening. The king has already set his mind on the show. You, of course, do not want to object to our Majesty’s desire. Right?” The gleam behind his eyes was seeking approval.
“I will have to ask for my crew’s opinion,” he spoke decisively.
Charles did not look pleased, but he managed to nod.
“Very well, you have a week.” He rested his hands on the shiny mahogany desk and sprinted to his feet.
“I believe the meeting is over?”
“It is, indeed. I am pleased I had the chance to meet with you, Sir Patrick. Please.” He walked around the desk and escorted the old man outside.
After bidding him farewell, Rufus was accompanied by his guard Quinton, and they both walked endlessly back to his own room in the first tower. As he watched his legs racing each other, he turned to Quinton.
“I need to speak with Mathew. Fetch him for me, please.”
Mathew stood tall next to the archaic window. He had been staring at the garden for a long time, observing the wild colours dashing between the flowers, the fountains that extended along the endless acres of green. The kingdom was beautiful and unlike anything he had seen before.
As much as his heart was swelling with happiness for getting the chance to experience the royal life, he could not fight the feeling of emptiness feeding on his heart. Another part of him was missing, the most important part. As exciting as the entire experience was going to be, he longed for her touches. He longed for her presence. The shadow of his past and the ghost of her whispers haunted him every night. Her soft white hand caressed the roughness of his dark stubble. He needed her more now that he had made it.
Turning around, he fetched his bag lying open on the floor and retrieved a small picture. It was almost torn, but the war couldn’t destroy it completely.
Naomi was smiling and her eyes were glowing with happiness. She did not want him to take her picture, but he managed to make her laugh and snap the camera at the same time. Spontaneous and natural Naomi was his favourite. If only she were here so he could touch her, so he could make her realize how much he missed her.
Carefully, he kissed the photograph then slid it under the white pillow.
Someone knocked at the door.
“Can’t I have a moment for myself?” He closed his eyes gritting his teeth.
Taking a deep breath, he headed to the door and gently opened it. His guard, Yvette, stood outside the chamber limits and maintained her soldier-like posture.
“Greetings, Mr. Covington. Are you free this instant? I apologise for any disturbance on my behalf.”
“No, it’s fine. But can it be postponed?” he asked nicely, returning her politeness.
“I am afraid that is impossible. Mr. Patrick has requested for a meeting with you urgently.”
“Urgently?” Mathew frowned. “Where is he?”
“He is in his chamber. If you don’t know the location, I shall direct you to it.”
“That’d be great.” He nodded and went back to get his jacket.
Putting it on, he followed Yvette’s steps.
Chapter 9
Acool air from the open bay window of Section I brushed against Riley’s cheek. The trees rustled and the wind moaned, a she-wolf mourning her dead pups. It was the beginning of a harsh winter, though it did not rain heavily nor snow yet.
Riley bit at her e-pen and stared at the script.
Riley: I cannot thank you enough for this fucking amazing cheer. You are the best crowd we’ve ever had!
“What in the world was I thinking to say such a thing in front of the king?” she said to herself.
Riley: I cannot thank you enough for this fucking amazing cheer. You are the best crowd we’ve ever had! opportunity to perform in the castle for your highness. Until we meet again. (Hope to see you all in our upcoming shows).
This should be enough to tell the king that the circus needed to be granted further opportunities, she thought. A particular opportunity came to her mind.
She felt a breath behind her but no sound of footsteps was heard.
“Jesus, you scared me.” She felt her heart beating fast when William came to her vision all of a sudden.
He stood there unfazed.
“You really need to work on announcing yourself when you talk to me,” she told him and pressed a button on her pen. A small neon light grazed through the paper and the crossed-out words disappeared.
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