His jaw tenses before he spins on his heel and exits the room.
Esme wipes her brow. “I had to make two trips for all this stuff.”
She walks to the window and throws open a set of curtains. I raise a hand to my eyes to block the sudden burst of sunlight streaming in. She finishes opening all the drapes and turns to me.
“You have a big day ahead.”
With my eyes still stinging from the light, I sigh and swing my bare feet to the carpeted floor. The fibers squish between my toes, and as I stand, my feet sink in slightly. Carpet isn’t a luxury I’ve had much experience with.
While Esme fiddles with a pile of clothes, I walk to the cart and pluck a piece of buttered toast from a plate. I bite into the toast and close my eyes, thoroughly enjoying the experience. Butter is expensive, and Mama only buys it on special occasions.
“What about this one?” Esme asks, breaking my momentary bliss. She holds up a garish pink gown made of entirely too much lace. My eyes widen. Esme chuckles. “I’m only kidding.” She tosses the hideous garment aside. “That thing would itch like a burlap sack.”
“I thought there were gowns for me to wear in my closet?” I walk toward the wardrobe.
“The Princess doesn’t want you wearing those, apparently. Too out of fashion, she said. These are the latest.” Esme holds up a lime green satin dress this time.
I stop walking and wave my hand at her.
“Well, you have to pick one.” She rifles through the pile again and yanks out a pale blue garment. The fabric of the skirt is flowing, but the bodice appears tight.
I contemplate it, but truly, I could never see myself in something so lovely. Or uncomfortable. “How am I supposed to breathe in that thing?”
“It’s the best you’re going to get. And the silk is exquisite. At least, that’s what the Princess said when she gave the lot to me.”
“Fine. But if I look like a sausage, I’m blaming you.” I eat another piece of toast with scrambled eggs while Esme makes up my bed. I feel completely useless and guilty while watching her work, but she tells me I’m not allowed to help.
Afterward, she slides me into the blue gown, not once glancing at my tattoo or mentioning it. Instead, her fingers make quick work of the intricate fasteners in the back. And I was right, the dress’s tight bodice pinches at my waist and torso, and I fidget with the fabric along the side. But the sleeve length does cover my marking. For that, I’m grateful.
“Stop squirming. This isn’t even as tight as the corset could be.” Then she makes me sit at a vanity and works on my hair.
She runs the comb through my long strands. The pulling and yanking smarts. I grit my teeth against the pain.
“Sorry,” Esme says. “But why didn’t you comb this out last night?”
“I was lucky enough to get a bath.” I chuckle. “I think I fell asleep in the tub.”
She clicks her tongue. “Well, starting tonight, I think I’ll be allowed to attend to you before sleeping, so this mess doesn’t happen again.”
I wince as she attempts to run the comb through again. Eventually, she gets all the knots out and somehow arranges my hair into an elegant style, a contrast to my usual mess. Soft curls fall over my shoulders, and she pins the top half back with a jewel-covered hair comb.
From a drawer beside the vanity, Esme takes out several types of colored powders and creams and applies the cosmetics to my face. At first, the experience makes my skin crawl, but it soon turns to fascination as I watch her transform a simple girl into something quite different. My skin is the smoothest it’s been in my life, and my lips are painted a pale pink. I wouldn’t go so far as to say I seem Royal, but this is the most Royal I’ve ever looked.
“How do you know how to do this?” I ask, stunned at the quality of the work.
She shrugs. “When the Transfer overtook me, all this new knowledge settled on my brain. I can’t exactly explain it, but it’s as if I’ve styled people’s hair thousands of times. Even this morning more of the Elder Executive Maiden’s Essence has been made clear to me concerning her organizational duties and all the inner workings of the castle. I woke up and just knew them. It’s a bit overwhelming, but I feel like I was born to do this job.” She pinches her lips together as if she’s considering her words. “Haven’t you experienced something like this yet?”
My heart jumps at her question. “I don’t think it’s the same for me. I’ve seen several memories, but I don’t have any knowledge. Just the few things I saw in the visions.”
Esme tips her head and studies me as if she’s trying to determine if I’m telling the truth. Finally, she clicks her tongue. “Well, you are stunning.”
I glance into the mirror again. The thought seems terribly conceited, but she’s right. If I didn’t know I was sitting here, I would have no idea the person in the reflection was me.
A pang of guilt tightens my chest. This is not me.
“Do you feel like the Transfer changed you? I mean, really changed you?” I ask.
Esme purses her lips. “It’s too early for me to say. But honestly? So far, I feel like a better me. I thought I would hate this, but I don’t. Not yet, at least.” She puts the finishing touches on my makeup and hair and smiles. “There. You’re done.”
I let out a steady breath and stand, still gaping at my reflection.
Esme cleans and rearranges the vanity, then pushes her cart over near the door. Humming a tune under her breath, she hangs the new dresses in my closet, even the ugly pink one.
“At some point, you’ll have to stop admiring yourself and deal with your day,” she says.
I break from my reflection and spin toward her. “What do you know about my day?”
“That Lord Fairden will be here soon to retrieve you. But, for now, I recommend not asking him too many questions about the Council. Everyone is pretty up in arms about the Princess temporarily pardoning you.”
“I thought Fairden was supportive of the pardon?”
Esme places a hand on her hip. “He is. But you should still be careful.” She opens the door and dramatically clears her throat.
Leif appears, scowling again, but holds the door for her.
“I’ll see you tonight,” Esme says as she exits.
I mutter a goodbye as she locks me in my gilded cage.
Turning back around, I can’t help but glimpse myself in the mirror again. My eyes have somehow grown in size, and my cheekbones are brushed high in rouge. It’s a rich stranger’s reflection. Despite wanting nothing to do with the Queen’s Essence, something inside of me is drawn to this lifestyle.
I can’t hold back the Queen’s Essence forever. I’m afraid her memories will eventually bubble to the surface and consume more and more of who I am. Just like the memories have for Esme.
A steady knocking pulls me from my thoughts.
I straighten my dress and rise. “Come in.”
Lord Fairden casually walks in, his hands locked regally behind his waist. His shoulders are pulled back and his head is held high. He wears dark slacks and a white collared shirt with a deep purple vest, an ensemble that isn’t quite as rigid as the stuffy suit he wore at the Royal commission.
“Good day, young Arabella. You are ever so regal this morning. I hope the accommodations were to your satisfaction?”
My eyes shift down to my feet and my mind drifts to my lowly peasant upbringing. “It—It was fine. It’s far more than I need.”
He steps closer to me while interlocking his fingers in front of him. “Listen, I understand how overwhelming this is for you. The Council is here to protect the Queendom and all those who live within our borders. I’m certain not all feel this way, but the Council is not your enemy. Nor am I here to sentence you to death. I just want to be clear about all of what has happened.”
“But death is what awaits me if the Council sees fit,” I blurt out, regretting my words right away.
A soft smile inches up Fairden’s face. “My dear, the truth will be r
evealed, and, if you’re honest with us, you will have nothing to worry about.”
I’ve been nothing but honest and I’m still here. His words are not comforting me—at all.
As if sensing my unease, Fairden steps closer and rests a hand on my shoulder. I tense at what should be a comforting gesture.
“We need to start your magic tutelage,” he says, maintaining his warm smile. “Are you ready to proceed?”
“Do I have a choice?”
Fairden chuckles lightly. “Well, this is a great honor for most. And if you hold the Queen’s Essence, then this experience will amaze you.”
He extends a hand toward the exit and indicates for me to leave my quarters. I have so much I want to say, but the words stick in my throat.
Once we reach the hall, Leif glares at me with his usual pent-up animosity. I wish Tristan was on duty. Lord Fairden takes the lead and guides us down a long corridor I’ve not yet seen. Formal looking oil paintings adorn every panel we walk by. Blue and gold banner sashes hang from marble pillars. There’s no chance anyone would forget where they are or who controls this castle.
“This way, please,” Fairden says, turning down a narrower hall.
We reach the end of the short corridor at a rustic wooden door. Beautifully carved symbols cover every inch of the wood. Leif steps forward and pulls the door open. Light floods the hall and a gentle breeze pours in. The sweet smell of jasmine fills the air, the fragrance hitting the back of my throat.
In this expansive courtyard—one completely surrounded by the castle—flowers of almost every color line several walkways that lead to a large cobblestone patio in the center. Two burly Royal Guards, staffs held at their sides, stand at attention in the central patio.
This just got serious.
“Walk with me, dear. Never mind them.” Fairden strides down a path to the patio.
Easy for you to say.
With Leif at my back and the Royal Guards eyeing me, I decide to follow.
As soon as my feet hit the cobblestone, Fairden turns and lifts both hands at me. A soft purple haze flows over his palms. A pit forms in my stomach. “Wait, what are you—”
A bright burst hits me and an intense warmth in my chest throws me back. I topple over and barely avoid hitting my head on the stone underfoot.
Grasping at my chest, I search for burns. Nothing. Not even a small mark. I scuttle back, hampered by this stupid dress, as Fairden casually walks toward me. His hands no longer glow. Instead, he’s reaching out to me. “Please, let me help you up.”
“What the hell!” I snarl, refusing his hand.
Fairden raises one eyebrow and keeps his hand extended. “I’m sorry, but I needed to test your innate ability to sense magic. Please, let me help you up, and I’ll explain.”
I don’t move for a second, eyeing everyone around me. To my side, Leif smirks at me. Behind Fairden, the two Guards stand like lifeless statues, completely unfazed by what’s just unfolded. Knowing I can’t get out of this, I push myself off the ground, still refusing Fairden’s assistance. He smiles as he takes a step back.
“What did you do to me?” I demand. “I thought magic required a staff or dagger or something?”
Fairden returns his hands behind his back. “Magic comes from inside, not from external objects. Sure, such devices can focus the energy, but your ability comes from the Essence you hold.”
“So you thought attacking me would be a good idea?”
Fairden tips his head. “Once your Essence fully takes hold, it binds to you—the power protects you.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I didn’t want a Transfer mark! I just wanted a normal life.”
“It is what it is, my dear. If what you are saying is true and you had no part in the Queen’s death, then you were chosen for a reason. I need to learn how the Essence interacts with you to fully understand what is happening here. Let us continue.”
My heart spurs into a gallop. “Continue with what?”
Before he can answer, my head spins and I drop to one knee. The courtyard fades and a brightness fills the area. Squinting, I look through the fading light.
I’m no longer outside, but rather inside a large ballroom. Oaken wood floors sprawl from one white marble wall to another. Queendom of Lore sashes decorate every inch of this grand space. Glancing up, a man with dark skin approaches me. As he comes closer, I recognize him, but he’s much younger.
Young Fairden holds a glowing, raised dagger in one hand as he inches closer. Just as he lunges at me, a coolness fills my chest and a calmness ripples over me like a babbling brook. I cross my arms before me in a defensive posture—hands curled into fists, thumbs tucked near my chest. A faint purple aura expands out from my forearms. Fairden strikes me, but the magical barrier stops his attack and reflects the magic his way. The older man staggers back several feet with a triumphant grin.
“Arabella?” a muffled voice calls out to me. “My dear . . . are you with us?”
The ballroom vanishes into smoky darkness and my breathing quickens as I return to reality in the courtyard.
Lord Fairden pulls me up by my arm. “Did you have another Essence memory?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Understand this, the memories manifest as you live moments that relate to them. Consider the recollections as a part of your growth in fulfilling your calling. They will help you transition.”
My calling? I don’t want a calling. I just want to be with my family. To live my own life.
I take a single step back. “Can we be done with this now?”
“My dear, your training has just begun.”
Chapter Nine
“DAMN YOU,” I sneer at Fairden as I rise for what must be the twentieth time. I notice a small tear in my skirt’s fabric as I pull the folds down. “If the Princess knew I would be fighting, then why did I have to wear this ridiculous gown? Esme could have at least dressed me in something appropriate . . . and comfortable.”
My lungs attempt to draw in a full breath, but the tight corset keeps them from filling.
Fairden tips his head and his dark green eyes soften. “My dear, none of this is about comfort. If you want to live, then you will need to adapt to this life and all it holds.”
I push myself from the ground and plant my feet on the hard stones. I grit my teeth and fixate on him, but I have nothing to say. I know he’s right. Most of the Council wants me dead. I’m actually surprised no one came in to murder me in my sleep the last two nights. If it weren’t for risking the Queen’s Essence, I’m sure I wouldn’t have seen another morning.
I hang my head and close my eyes. The sun’s warmth graces the exposed skin on my body, and a gentle breeze blows back a loosened tendril of hair once clipped atop my head. I focus my thoughts on the tips of my fingers while releasing a long, ragged breath.
My mind slows, and I have no idea if the whole thing is just my imagination, but the air around me vibrates. The sensation settles on my skin and builds in my chest, then works down my arms and into my palms and fingers. Slowly, I look to my now extended hands. In the center of my palm, a faint lavender glow forms. The glimmer snakes over my hand. I gasp, and the apparition vanishes.
“Tsk.” Fairden clicks his tongue. “You must maintain your focus, Arabella.”
I drop my hand to my side and return my attention to him. “This is the first day I’ve ever used any sort of magic. Do you expect me to master the ability on the spot?”
Fairden crosses his arms over his chest. “The magic will either flow through you, or it will not. But as the Vessel of the Queen, you have no choice. Her magic must flow through you freely, or you cannot be the Vessel. My task is to determine this.”
I gawk at my hand again. The glow hasn’t returned, and any sensation I felt before has vanished as well.
“The Queen’s memories will assist you and awaken the magic inside of you, but you can only be the true Vessel by your own merit. It’s rare, but a body can reject a Transfer.�
�
“I’ve never heard of this,” I say. “Who has done so?”
“Me.”
I squint at Fairden, confused. “You?”
“Well, not me, but the Transfer before me.” He averts his gaze to the ground. “She did not take well to the Essence. I was the second choice. And, honestly, I nearly failed as well. But on the last day of training, after several weeks, everything fell into place. Even then, time was necessary for me to hone my magic. But the powers came.” Fairden catches my gaze and holds it. “But you do not have this luxury. You must succeed, and quickly.”
A pit forms in my stomach. I want to tell him I’m trying and that I need more time, but before the words exit my mouth, Fairden twists toward the Guards and raises his hand. The sentinels come to life and their staffs illuminate like torches.
The two Royal Guard rush Fairden, but the old man stands his ground, eyes narrowed with determination. Fairden fists his hands at his side. From a clenched palm, a pulsating, purple energy sword appears. In his other hand materializes a bright, translucent shield. He jabs the sword toward the rushing Guards and simultaneously shields himself. One Guard lunges his staff at Fairden, but the older man uses his shield to blocks the hit. Vibrations of magical power reverberate through the air and illuminate the courtyard. Fairden wheels around to the other Guard and drives his sword through him. The soldier gasps and falls to the ground—dead—blood spilling from his chest.
This is real, not training.
I backpedal from the scene. Any success I’ve had with bullies in town will not help me against magically trained Royal Guards. If I intervene, I’m dead. I search for Leif and then realize, in all the madness, he’s left.
If Fairden dies, who will help me? I can’t do this on my own.
The remaining Guard comes at Fairden full force and the horrific scene goes on for what feels like several agonizing minutes, but Fairden holds his own against the much younger and more muscled Guard.
My head begins to spin as I hold my breath. Just when I think I might pass out, Fairden drives the remaining soldier to the ground using a blast of purple magic from his hands. The Guard loses his staff, and eventually stops moving.
Crown of Lore (Betrayal of Magic Book 1) Page 7