by C. A. Sabol
Dorian’s eyes softened at once. “Oh, I see.” He turned to Selene. “Sister, this is the man who has approached the council and me with an enticing offer for your hand. He has offered many treasures for you, as well as this court.”
“No, thank you,” Selene replied as graciously as she could. Her voice was light, and had no trace of condemnation, but Aemon felt her words hit him like a slap across the face. I’ve spent enough time with this gentleman to know that he is accustomed to buying into power, that he knows little of human decency and cannot be trusted with the title over me as ‘husband’. No riches, no treasure is worth such a fate, she thought.
“Think it over, sister,” Dorian urged her, this time his words more hard and carefully accentuated. “You might change your mind.”
“Dorian!” Selene was wide-eyed with shock that he would take someone else’s side on this.
“Leave Selene alone,” Etoileon spoke up. “She said her piece, now let this matter drop.”
Dorian looked as though he might have thrown Etoileon out of the castle for good after that, but instead, he turned on his heel. “Resume the music!” he commanded, heading towards his throne.
The music started up once again, and for the moment, the proposal was forgotten. Everyone got up and began to awkwardly dance once more, eventually lighting up and seeming to forget the matter entirely.
Aemon looked spitefully at Etoileon. “You might think that you’re in charge of the Princess, but Selene will be mine.”
He turned once again to the Princess, who had just been staring at her brother’s retreating form with a look of disbelief on her face. “My lady,” he started. “How about I give you two days to accept my proposal? Your guard here can’t object to that.”
“Ha! Etoileon is the best Fighter we’ve got here, and he is in charge of my safety,” Selene huffed. “I do not think you could win against him if you tried.” She put her arm through Etoileon’s and added, “Please leave.”
Aemon glared at her, but said nothing as he made his way out of the room.
“The nerve of that man!” Selene’s voice had a surprisingly shaky sound to it.
“Selene?” Etoileon took a hold of her hands. They were shaking along with her voice. “I think you should take a break. Your hands are cold.”
She looked up at him. “Why did Dorian take his side? Why? I don’t understand this.” Her voice was shaking even more as she voiced her unanswerable questions.
“Well, he did offer you a whole lot of treasure,” Etoileon reasoned. “Maybe the Continent could use the funds, or something. I’m guessing it was the council’s insistence that you consider his proposal.”
“I would rather renounce my title,” Selene assured him. She sighed. “I think you were right. I could use a little break after that. Let’s go and do something else.”
Etoileon nodded. “Okay. Shall I escort you to your chambers?”
“No, I have a better idea. Let’s go to the Luxury Garden Hall,” Selene suggested. “It has not been used in this kind of reception in years.”
IT WAS TRUE THAT THE Garden had not been used in years, but it had been kept up. Selene wandered through the door and headed down the arched hallways of the purple starlet flowers. Starlets, small flowers growing on vines, only bloomed during the night. The long bordered entrance way was a comfort to Selene’s nerves. She was starting to settle now, her worry dispersing rapidly as the comforting surroundings of her mother’s garden enclosed around her.
“Wow. I’ve never seen this place before,” Etoileon’s voice whispered through the darkened garden some distance behind her.
“I come here sometimes, when I feel alone,” Selene admitted. “My mother died when I was born. I never knew her.”
“Why would you want to come here when you feel alone then? Wouldn’t that make it sadder?” He’d caught up to her and was talking softly now.
Selene smiled as she looked up at the starry night through the transparent skylights. “I guess you would think that, but it’s not like that at all.” Selene knelt down in the garden square and played with a few leafy plants. “I feel closer to her here somehow.”
“Why’s that?” He came and knelt beside her.
Selene slumped down, lying back on the soft earth. She rearranged her skirts in a lady-like fashion. “She was the one who designed this garden, you know. I hear some of the maids talk about how she was lonely, too. My father wasn’t exactly what you’d call a hero or a great catch.”
“Well, he was way older than her.”
“Yes, but he loved Dorian’s mother a whole lot. I could tell by his old photo discs. There are thousands of pictures of Dorian’s mother, but there are only about five of my mother. One of them was taken in this garden. She looked lonely in the photo.”
“So when you feel lonely, you think of her being lonely, and feel better?” he asked, trying to understand her more clearly.
“Sure, I guess.” Selene folded her arms behind her head in pillowing effect as she watched the rolling clouds above go by through the skylight. Etoileon came up beside her and lay down too, causing her to turn her face away as she blushed slightly.
“I feel lonely too sometimes,” he admitted softly. “But I try not to let it bother me. When I’m lonely I think about the times when I’m not alone.”
“But isn’t that lonely? Doesn’t that make you feel even more alone?” she asked.
“Not really,” he tried to explain. “I think of some adventure we’ve had together, or remember Ronal’s jokes, or think about people who have cared about me. Some of them might be gone, or not around, or –“ he looked at her with a smile—“getting ready for a ball, but they all helped me in some way. It’s kind of nice to think about how you’d be different if you had no memories, and grateful that you’re who you are because of certain people.”
A moment of silence allowed the profoundness of his words to wash over her. “I never knew you were so idealistic,” Selene smiled up at him. “Etoileon ... I’m grateful for you.”
The sincerity of her words echoed throughout the long silence that followed them. Etoileon did nothing to indicate that he even heard her. For long moments the two of them simply stayed there, looking out into the distance, allowing the silence to embrace them.
Etoileon caught sight of the bright moonlight in the skylight windows in the ceiling. He gave a tiny smile as he once again recalled the day that he’d met Selene. She’d proven to one of the best things he could ever have hoped for. He let go of his focus on the world and closed his eyes.
All at once, something took hold of his mind. It coaxed him to wander back to the day he’d awaken to remember nothing and no one, an old memory catching his full attention. The only sight filling his eyes was an eclipse, a black moon in front of a bright light. It was so real to him; Etoileon tried to call out to Selene to look, but his voice made no audible sound as the picture continued to hold steady in his mind’s eye. He felt a sense of confusion, but it was strange, because he felt no tingle of fear, no heightened sense of dread.
Opening his eyes, he still saw the blackened moon and flinched; he was still watching only with his mind. He was sure that he was still awake. Etoileon took a consensus of his surroundings, and found that he was in the same place, in the same position. Before he could think on what could possibly be happening, he saw the moon grow bigger and bigger in his mind’s vision, until he knew that he was lying on the grass in the palace garden, but he could not look away from this vision, this divine daydream.
As he watched, there was a small sparkle near the edge of the black moon. A second later there was a sound, and Etoileon strained his ears to listen.
It sounded like a horse, he thought as the scene in front of him suddenly changed. The darkness passed away as the light ruptured from the area near the sparkle, the blackness of the moon disappearing as a bright, shimmering light suddenly filled his eyes. Etoileon brought his hands up to block his eyes from the powerful surge of light,
and suddenly he found himself lying on the grass, his hands in front of his eyes shaking. He felt his heartbeat and knew that he had just had a vision from the beyond, but he did not know what it could possibly mean or why it had happened. Looking over at the princess, she was right where she’d been before. There was no evidence to suggest anything had happened to her, or that she’d seen anything of the vision he had.
He sat up. “Are you ready to go back to the ballroom?”
“Yes, I suppose I should go back there,” Selene agreed. She picked a single bud, a small flower blossom. She handed it to him. “Thanks for making me feel better.”
He took hold of the small bud and then reached out, tucking the small flower into her hair. “It’s been a privilege.” As he turned to head out of the garden, he thought about telling Selene what he had seen. Looking back at her as she shook out her skirts, he decided to wait awhile before he did. She had enough troubles of her own to worry about for the moment. She might even think that he was crazy, or that he was losing it.
Despite the kind remarks, Selene felt alone. Who could she tell, that she wanted nothing more than to be with this kind boy, this one who had been her best friend, this boy who she felt feelings for that she did not even understand? She could barely even admit it to herself. How could she tell Dorian that not for all the treasures in the world, all the gold in the earth, would she marry any of the islander representatives? She would not, because they were not the right one for her, and they were not meant for her. They were not this boy.
RONAL LOOKED DOWN AT the note in his hand and read it again, this time with a full glass of moonshine in his other hand. He wasn’t in the best of spirits, despite the happy party and the smiling guests.
Cyerra had not been able to come tonight. She could not convince her brother to allow her to be put in such a vulnerable position. For Ronal’s sake, she had managed to smuggle to him a note, explaining everything to him.
Dearest Ronal,
Please understand and forgive me for not coming tonight. Not only must I see to the business and Auntie here, but also my brother Aemon has refused to let me near the palace. He is worried for my safety, you see. You must forgive him. Please believe me when I say he is not a bad person, only misguided. Try to come and see me soon.
Yours,
Cyerra
The note was hurriedly written and barely readable. But Ronal knew that she’d been as polite as she could, and had tried to excuse her brother’s behavior to him. Ronal thought considering her brother was planning a rebellion, she was too good for him to have as a sister.
He would go to see her soon, he vowed.
SELENE RETURNED TO the ballroom, only to find that most of the people had migrated into the dining rooms in order to get their drinks and their food. The evening was more than half over at least, Selene thought gratefully as she found a nice section of the wall to lean against. She did not want to be here much longer.
Etoileon was not far from her, watching over her as usual. They’d been too close all night long; he could not get close to her without causing more whispers to stir, more eyes to narrow. She watched and sighed, longing for Dorian to excuse her to her rooms for the night.
“Excuse me, ma’am, is this space of wall taken?” the last person Selene wanted to deal with had shown up quickly enough, that was for sure.
“Aemon, please,” she started.
“I want to apologize, My Lady,” he interjected. “I wanted to humbly ask for your forgiveness and another chance to convince you that I am worthy of your hand and title.”
“You can have my forgiveness. Take it with my pleasure. But as far as I am concerned, you do not have to be worthy of my hand or my title,” she responded. “You have to be worthy of me.”
Aemon shot her a confused look. “Princess, I think that maybe you should have all your facts straightened out before you make up your mind. I am the Representative from Jewel Island, the youngest ever elected. I am almost nineteen years old, you know.”
“Really? From the way you act, I would’ve guessed ten,” Etoileon’s hardened voice came up from behind him. His eyes flickered over to meet Selene’s once again. “Is there a problem, here, Princess?”
Another voice came up. “No, there is no problem.” Etoileon looked behind him to see Garth, the King’s head of personnel. He cleared his throat in a presumptuous manner, and nodded to Etoileon. “You. The King requests your presence immediately. Your Highness, will you excuse us?”
Selene looked like she had been hit in the stomach. But she smiled brightly, seeing no alternative. “That’s fine.”
Etoileon didn’t have any time to object as he was practically dragged away by Garth, who, at seven foot one and thirty-four years old, easily managed to take him into one of the rooms off the side of the ballroom.
“What’s going on?” Etoileon asked, his fists clenched and anger written all over his face. “Why are you doing this? Don’t you realize that Selene is in trouble?”
“We’re all in trouble, Etoileon.” The King sat in his office chair, his hand wrapped around a rare glass of moonshine.
“What is this? What’s going on?” He noticed the glass, and the worry began to creep up into his spine.
“Guards.” The King raised his head. “Leave us.”
The guards positioned at the door looked at each other, and then left quietly, quite sure that the King was still stable enough to make clear decisions—or at least clear enough to punish them if they disobeyed him.
When Dorian and Etoileon were alone, with only Garth for company, the King pulled out another bottle of moonshine from his desk drawer. Glancing at Etoileon, he grinned. “Don’t tell Selene,” he said. “She’ll be heartbroken if she finds out that I seem to act more like our father than she would wish.”
Etoileon said nothing about the moonshine. He had other issues on his mind. “Why are you letting that Islander call the shots when it comes to Selene?”
“He’s requested her hand, Etoileon,” Dorian replied, pouring out some more moonshine. “And he has a good reason for me to accept his proposal.”
“What?” Etoileon felt numb as the stark truth of the matter hit him. Selene could end up married to that guy. A shower of chills seemed to pour over him as his despair mounted.
“Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. He’s not my first choice either, but I have to say ... this fits the prophecy pretty well.”
“What are you talking about?” Etoileon forgot his boundaries once more. He stood up and slammed his fist onto the table. In his fury, he didn’t even feel the reverberations of pain that jolted up his arm, nor did he realize that he’d made a dent in the piece of furniture. “She can’t marry him!”
“Control your temper!” Dorian shot back. “There was a prophecy, long ago, that the Princess would be married, and then a time of peace would come to the whole world. Don’t you get it, you brat? You can’t stop this. I can’t either. Only Selene can, and I will not have you repeating any of this to her, or I’ll fire you straight out, and throw you back out on the streets where you belong.”
“Why? Why can’t you get her out of this?”
“Why?” Dorian’s face was nearly purple from anger. “I’ll tell you why. It’s because of Aemon. He’s a nut, completely insane. He’s dead set on becoming the next king of the world, and he’s told me that Selene has until the day of Moonbeam Festival to accept his marriage proposal. If she doesn’t, so he can legally claim the right to the throne after me, he’s going to handle this the old fashioned way by rebelling, and killing us all—including Selene and myself.”
“He can’t do that!”
“What do you mean, he can’t!” Dorian shouted. He slumped down in his chair. His voice lowered. “Look ... I’ve never liked you that much. But there have been rumors overseas for the past couple of months about this guy. He’s the son of Ammos, the last leader of the previous Rebellion.”
Etoileon’s eyes widened slightly at the coincidence.
“You mean ... he’s intent on revenge, because the rebel cause ended up driving his father to kill himself?”
“Of course,” Dorian nodded. The moonshine was beginning to take a stronger hold on him. “That’s how these guys work. We’re trying to handle the situation here as best as we can.” Before Etoileon could say or do anything, Dorian leaned forward and met his gaze intently. “Look. I saw you tonight. I’ve seen you since you’ve come here. And I know my sister much better than anyone I know. She would not ever choose herself over anyone else. But you ... you’re not just anyone else to her. I can see by the way you talk to her, the way you look at her, the way that you guard her. I want you to lay off your duties as her Protector until the beginning of the Lunar Storms. If she says no to Aemon, of her own free will, we’re going to have a war on our hands once again.”
“And if she says yes?” Etoileon could barely make the words form on his lips.
“Then I guess you’ll be out of a job.” Dorian sighed. “What a horrible mess this is. You will go to your rooms, then. And you are not allowed out of your wing until the festival night of the Lunar Storms. Garth here will personally be monitoring your rooms.” Garth straightened up at the King’s words.
Etoileon saw no way around it. He was sunk.
SELENE WAS READY TO leave almost as soon as Aemon started talking about himself. She was finding it hard to keep on looking like she was paying attention to him; it was more tiring than she’d realized.
“Yeah, that’s right, I was the best strategist in the whole class,” he was saying as Selene nodded. Her eyes darted to find a clock as a sense of desperation seemed to be slowly taking a hold of her. She sincerely hoped that Etoileon was going to come back soon. She did not like this. Although Aemon was a much more amiable fellow now that Etoileon was gone from view, he was still trying to impress her and it was not working.