Of Royal Blood: Part One (Courting Magik Series Book 1)

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Of Royal Blood: Part One (Courting Magik Series Book 1) Page 5

by Michele Barrow-Belisle


  I nodded toward the crumbling plaster, and she heaved a sigh.

  “Guess we better start screwing in these beams, though fantasizing about screwing the Prince of Britannia…waaay more interesting.”

  Wasn't it, though? That was the problem...

  CHAPTER 5

  Interview day was hot. Hades hot. It had to be a hundred degrees, which almost never happened here. It was like the air surrounding the palace had its own climate control. My blouse was wrinkling in places it shouldn’t, and I was afraid to check if the dampness I felt under my arms was actually showing through.

  Lining up around the building for a job interview that, honestly, I had very mixed emotions about getting, was only made worse in this oppressive weather. Fitting word. Sure, on the one hand, the money would be sublime, I wouldn’t lie…and so desperately needed to save the donut shoppe. Plus, there was the whole ‘having a life purpose’ aspect...an actual career closely related to my field, and something to save me from my incarcerated predestined donut fate. But I couldn’t shake the sense that I would be merely trading one prison for another. A position at court wouldn’t bring me freedom, only money. While I didn’t think it the root of all evil, I also knew it couldn’t buy happiness. The line inched forward at a painful pace.

  Selling my soul to save those I loved. That was my fortune in this life. I was actually told that by a psychic at the fair. That I was fated to live this life. My mother's life. My sister’s life. I'd glared at her, then stormed out of the trailer before her black-lacquered fingernails touched the tarot card deck in front of her. Her name was Griselda. No surname, just Griselda…like Madonna or Pink. She used to come to the fair every year, until recently. No one seemed to know what happened to her, she’d just vanished, but I wasn't very sad to see her go. I hated the way her gaze used to follow me when I walked the fairgrounds. She would walk toward me, then turn back, like she wanted to tell me something, but was afraid to. Or perhaps, she was just mad. Weren’t we all? I mean, I was the last one to talk, I was hearing voices in my head. The normal-ship had thrown me overboard years ago.

  I pulled in a breath. The air felt so hot and thick, it strangled in my throat. How could air actually cut off your airway? That wasn’t normal. But then, none of this was. I was actually standing in line for a job at the palace, for God's sake. Nothing in my life this far showed any indication that could be an option for me. But when Mum saw the posting, she assured me she didn’t hesitate…not even a pause to tell me about it…before she submitted my name and promised them I'd be attending the interview.

  So here I was…and now, after an hour, plus two rigorous question-and-answer sessions with their hiring team, I’d finally made it inside to the registration desk.

  Of course, all of that had happened before his royal naughtiness had graced us with his cheeky presence and flashy grin. He was the last person I wanted to see. With any luck he'd forgotten me. With a bit more luck, he wasn't even here at court. Best luck of all, he’d moved to Siberia, and the only residual trace of him would be his latest naked escapades, with the flavor-of-the-month twins, on a private glacier party.

  Sigh. Okay, I wasn't as bitter as I sounded, just stressed. I nibbled my thumbnail, until I remembered that broke another Royal Rule.

  Just fake it, Kat. You can pretend you’re a sophisticated lady for that amount of cash. The salary was more per month than I, or anyone else in my family had ever made in their entire lifetime, and that wasn't the kind of cash I could turn my nose up at. The three hundred quid burning an angry hole in my wallet on the other hand...

  A hand clapped in front of me and I startled.

  “Hello? Miss? Please step up to the table. We’re on a schedule.” A woman with a tight grey bun and a dark grey suit waved me forward.

  They searched my person, my purse, and scrutinized my identification. No one could come or go anywhere without it here. It was like we were all imprisoned on the Island of Britannia, and nobody was free to cross to the mainland without the queen's express permission. She did not give it lightly. Yes, sure, it was a stunningly pretty prison, with lavender fields and rolling grass hills, but a jail was a jail, none the less.

  “Pass. Go ahead, you may enter.”

  I was given my purse and a card marked, 1111, with instructions to present it to the guard at the door on my left. Or was it my right? I felt my underarm perspiration increase, despite the cooler temperature inside the castle.

  You can do this. You can do this.

  Tina had instructed me not to gawk, but who could help it? Stately columns, marble staircases, and glittering chandeliers the size of our donut shoppe. Sun warmed tapestries lined the floor of the foyer, exposing the brilliantly polished hardwood around the perimeter. Gilded arched ceilings, and ornately embossed moldings and cornices graced every wall, and framed every doorway. It was all very breathtaking. And, terrifying.

  I made my way to the door on the right. Easy enough since there was no door to the left. A guard took my card, looked me over briefly, then opened the door to let me enter.

  I stepped deeper into the room, giving serious consideration to ditching the whole idea and getting the hell out of there. But the door clicked shut, and I was in the presence of not only twelve other women, but Queen Zara DeMedici herself.

  Nope. I can’t do this.

  She cleared her throat. All eyes were poised on me.

  Oh, god, right. I dipped into the world's most ungraceful curtsy. Should’ve practiced that part more.

  The queen gave a pained grimace, gestured for me to rise, and then I was ushered to join the other girls in the line.

  “Ladies. Thank you for your interest,” she said. Her voice was like liquid glass... cool, smooth and razor sharp. “We have a few final terms to review with you before we make our decisions.”

  The door swung open, and a footman stepped to the side. “His Royal Highness, Prince Ethan,” he announced.

  My stomach plummeted into my shoes.

  The prince sauntered into the room. He smiled cordially as everyone in the line curtsied or bowed. I nearly forgot myself again, but quickly recovered, and offered a low bow. My tardiness was not overlooked, and I felt the queen's cold eyes on me, as well as Prince Ethan's.

  “Please, ladies. Relax. Sorry, mother, not to interrupt, but...” He made eye contact again. I wanted to hide behind the girl next to me. Does he recognize me from the donut shoppe? With my hair actually brushed and falling loose over my shoulders, my face painted with smoky eyeshadow, lipstick and blush, and dressed in Hannah’s frothy gown…I looked nothing like the greasy pajama girl he’d run into. I was hoping he wouldn’t place me, but his gaze never left mine.

  My insides twisted. This was not good. I'd been rude, and condescending, and nearly thrown his money back in his face. Not exactly a demonstration of respect for the crown. What rule number was that one again?

  He entered the heart of the room, taking deep strides as he walked toward us. “So, has Mother been putting you all through the ringer? Bet you could use a stiff one right about now.” He jiggled the glass he was holding, clinking the ice against the sides.

  A couple of girls couldn’t contain their giggles.

  “Ethan.” The queen's frigid voice warned.

  He chuckled, but his eyes continued to return to mine. Then he smiled. Not a warm, friendly smile. Not even a leering, suggestive one. No. It was worse. It was a smile of recognition.

  Crap. He placed me. My teeth sank into my lip. I’d been so close. Making it this far in the process was no small feat. But looked like it ended here.

  Ethan continued to watch me, as my face flooded with heat. Part of me wanted to barrel from the room and leave all of it behind. But that wouldn't go without question. Questions I'd be forced to answer. I'd kept his secret, all of his secrets, secrets he didn’t know I knew…but I'd spill them all in a heartbeat if it kept me from my sister's fate.

  He walked the length of the row, eying each applicant in turn. Th
en he paused when he reached me. “Have we met?” he asked in a low voice.

  The women on either side of me turned their heads with curiosity and jealousy.

  Okay, now what do I do? I sucked in a shallow breath and answered, “I'm certain you would remember if we had, Your Majesty.” I dipped my head.

  His hand reached out to cup my chin as he lifted my gaze back to his. “Perhaps just wishful thinking on my part,” he whispered, then winked.

  I think I heard the girl to my right sigh. He was leaving them breathless, all right. Someone at the far end of the line collapsed. From stress, fatigue, being dazzled…who knew? She was carried from the room by two guards. Everyone else tried to remain alert and unshaken. But they were shaken, and so was I. There was something amiss here. I could feel it. Sense it. I just couldn't name it.

  After the commotion, the queen rose. “Well, I've seen enough. Thank you.” She waved a hand, then gestured for her son to follow her out of the room.

  He jogged to catch up with her, then leaned in and whispered something in her ear. She turned abruptly, her stern face folded in a scowl. Cold hard eyes drilled into mine. Then she whirled around and stormed out. Ethan followed, casting a single glance over his shoulder in my direction.

  I couldn't tell if it was a look of satisfaction or smugness. But it was most definitely a look of victory…and my defeat.

  ***

  We were put through a few more group interview questions, with the grey suit, grey haired lady reviewing our knowledge and understanding of the Royal Rules.

  “And lastly.” She lowered her glasses to the bridge of her nose and peered over us. “What are the rules pertaining to magik?”

  No one moved. Honestly, I doubted anyone had bothered to study those parts. Magik wasn’t real, and if it had ever existed, there was no trace of it now. It was legend, myth, a fairytale told to children at night to scare them into good behavior.

  Slowly, I raised my hand.

  “Miss Stark.” She nodded.

  “It’s strictly forbidden. Both at court and throughout the island.”

  “And…”

  “Anyone caught performing it will be put to death.” I managed to spew it all with a straight face. Surely, I should get bonus points for that. I mean, how ridiculous was it that something so arcane was still included in their Q and A?

  She nodded, jotted something in her book, and then closed it.

  “We appreciate you coming and your interest in becoming a member of the Palace staff. You will be notified shortly, either way. Thank you, ladies, you are all dismissed.”

  Hannah’s group interview had taken place hours before mine, so I was on my own to head home. But my stomach was still flipping cartwheels, so I turned toward the nearest powder room.

  I passed by an office, the door slightly ajar, and saw Ethan. It was as if his gaze had a magnetic charge, drawn to mine, because he turned his head in the exact moment I paused. I took in a sharp breath, then hurried past, into the privy.

  I washed my hands, dried them, and stared at my reflection in the mirror. Even in this warm lighting I looked pale. With my palms splayed against the counter, I leaned over the rose marbled sink and pulled in deep breaths. I reached for the golden tap to splash cold water over my heavily made up face, but my hand froze as a chill chased over my skin.

  “You’re new here.”

  A deep resonating voice echoed through the vast space.

  I gasped and straightened.

  King Malcolm stood behind me, arms folded, and a suggestive grin on his face.

  “You’re one of the applicants, yes?”

  I nodded and managed not to swallow my tongue. What was he doing in here? It was clearly the ladies’ powder room, wasn’t it? I stole a quick look about. Yes, fresh flowers, soft pastels, lighted mirrors, and not a urinal in sight.

  He moved closer until he was positioned directly behind me. I stared at his reflection in the mirror, unable to move.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Kat… Katriana Stark,” I said, completely forgetting to address him formally.

  “Stark. I know the name.”

  Of course he did. Everyone knew the name, thanks to Justina. I turned to face him, which put us in uncomfortably close quarters in the massive space. I inched my way along the counter to put some distance between us.

  “We look forward to having fresh blood at court, Katriana.” He nodded. “Interview went well?”

  “I, uh…” I bowed awkwardly, since I hadn’t up to now. “I think so, Your Majesty.”

  “Good. I’d like to see more of you here. In fact, I could offer you a special position at court. Working solely for me.”

  I stared at him, trying to fathom what kind of position he was referring to, when I remembered—

  Whatever you do, don't agree to the king’s offer, should he make you an offer. How many times had Tina said those words to me?

  I blinked. As a distraction, I turned around, flipped on the water and rewashed my hands. Which seemed insane, but I needed time to think. He wasn't asking me to be his receptionist. He had very different personal tasks in mind.

  For some, an invitation to become the king’s mistress was an honor. Mother’s generation especially, believed willingly offering your yourself to a wealthy and powerful man was well worth sacrificing your self-respect. I always thought it was crazy, that in a Matriarchal society, women still thought King’s Whore was a title worth striving for. Beyond the shores of Britannia, it might have landed him with a sexual assault charge.

  But here, it was still a legitimate title. A title that came with immense wealth and status, if you lived long enough to enjoy the spoils. It was accepted by the queen, as long as the affair remained discreet, and the king remained on her good side. But when she was pissed with him, her wrath was vicious, and it was always directed at the women serving him. There were too many to count who’d gone missing. It was as if people who came to work at the palace had a habit of disappearing, never returning to their regular lives. My sister, she wasn’t an exception.

  But I was not my sister. I wasn’t going to repeat her mistakes. I wasn't going to be used as the king’s plaything. And my first time certainly wasn’t going to be with a married man.

  “I appreciate your offer, Your Majesty, but I have a boyfriend I’m very committed to, and I’m a teacher. I think that position is the only one I’d be suited for.” I gave another bow, then hurried toward the door.

  King Malcolm stepped in front of me, blocking my path. “Are you certain you won’t reconsider?” His hungry gaze roamed over me. “I have been known to be both gentle, and generous to my personal staff.

  I stepped back, feeling threatened. “I said, no thank you.”

  “Perhaps, you should just consider what I’m offering you here…a chance to rise in station.” He reached out to touch my hair.

  I shoved his hand away, and a surge of anger rose up within me. The ring on my finger went from warm to scalding hot. There was a splintering crack and the pipes exploded. One after the other in sequence, they ruptured. Water spewed from every faucet, gushed from every toilet, and the door to the powder room blew open with such ferocity it broke free of its hinges.

  The king gaped, staring. “What the bloody hell…”

  The swell of anger I’d felt subsided, leaving me feeling limp and exhausted. I rushed past him, out of the privy, my heart hammering in my chest as I raced toward the exit. I heard Prince Ethan call my name as I ran past the office door, but I didn't stop, didn’t slow down, and didn’t look back.

  CHAPTER 6

  “Have you lost your bloody mind?”

  I swallowed hard, brows furrowed in a deep frown. Hannah had been waiting for me in her car beyond the Palace gates, parked a short distance from the gathering paparazzi who camped there 24/7.

  “Do you have any idea how much shit could go down because of what you did? What you said?”

  I shook my head, shoving my notes into my b
ag with trembling hands, while fully dismissing her lecture. I’d known her long enough to know how dramatic she could be. Especially where our jobs were concerned. “I turned him down, Hannah. How is that an end-of-days event?”

  That wasn’t the part that had me so unraveled. His advances were expected. It was no secret the man was a pig. It was the other things that left me shaken. Doors didn’t just blow off their hinges. And I’d felt something when it happened. As if the surge of energy that exploded the pipes in the privy had come from me. Impossible. Impossible. Magik didn’t exist and, if it did, I was the last one who’d have it. I chewed the pad of my thumb, only half-listening to Hannah’s lecture.

  “It is an end-of-days event, because he's the king, and you don’t turn down your king. You know why, because turning down your king is an end-of-days event.” Her dark eyes flashed as she vented, repeating herself as if to strengthen her point. She had a heavy foot when she was ranting, and I needed to change the subject before she got a ticket, or god forbid, wrapped us around a tree.

  “Don’t you think you're overreacting just a little?”

  The way my stomach twisted and churned, I knew she wasn’t. All of this really was catastrophic, and would cast not only me, but my entire family in a very poor light. Not only had I insulted the king by refusing his offer, but what if he told someone what happened to the sinks, and they blamed me for it? That wasn’t the only fear plaguing me. What if it actually was my fault? Let the witch hunts begin.

  I leaned my head against the window, watching the blur of our surroundings go from posh and manicured to worn and unkept, the closer we got to home.

  Mother would have my head and lock me into the graveyard shift at the donut shoppe for the rest of my life.

  Maybe I had really messed up. Ethan had made sure I didn’t get the tutoring position, and now I’d blown my second chance at employment in the palace. The self-flagellating continued until I was reminded of the real reason I’d turned down the king, handsome as he was. It wasn’t just that he was a much older married man with a son a little older than me. Or that I had zero interest in being someone’s mistress. There was an even bigger reason for my refusal…The Queen of Britannia.

 

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