Chapter 9

T wo beings no larger than four feet tall and with iridescent glittering wings that keep them hovering just above the ground are standing in my bedroom when I return. The one to the left has long copper hair that falls in loose waves down to her waist, and the other's teal hair is wrapped tight into a bun. Their wide smiles radiate warmth as their shoulders lift with excitement, and their wings flutter in a frenzy.

"Viola." The more reserved of the two, the one with the copper hair, lands on her feet and bends into a small curtsy.

"Gemma." The one with the teal hair is a little more manic and expressive with her large rounded eyes, but she quickly follows suit. I curtsy back because it feels like the polite thing to do, but they both giggle into their palms.

"We're your lady's maids," Viola says, as if that's explanation enough for their laughter. She doesn't sound condescending or judgmental, but the blushing in my cheeks burns all the same.

"What is a lady's maid?" Are they meant to… serve me? That sounds ridiculous. I survived on my own for years, why would I need someone else to care for me now?

"We're here to serve you." Gemma winks at me playfully, confirming my fear.

"Do you like wine? We fetched a bottle from the cellar for you. We also filled a bath. It's just through there." Viola motions to a door on the side of the room, just past the expansive window. Does the bath have a perfect view of the sea too? My gods. "Is there anything else we can do to make you comfortable here?"

"You don't have to do anything, thank you. I can just… sit here." I don't know that I can accept their help. It makes me feel awkward, guilty even. What have I done to deserve it? Nothing, absolutely nothing. I don't deserve a lady's maid. I don't deserve to be in this palace. It's only a matter of time until they all figure out as much.

"Whatever you want is perfectly fine with us," Gemma says. Her toothy grin is cheery and bright. "But if you do need anything at all, ring the bell on the bedside table. We'll be here in a snap." Their wings begin to flutter in unison, and their bodies lift from the ground ever so slightly. The hum of their wings follows them out the door as they leave.

I like those two, even if their jobs make me uncomfortable.

The fragrance of flowers and soap wafts in from the bath, beckoning me toward it. Like the bedroom, the ocean is fully visible through the bathroom's glass wall. The mid-day sun is sparkling over the water, dancing across it in strands of silver and white. A wooden tub overflowing with billowing steam sits at the center. I don't often take hot baths. Not ever, really. It's a chore to boil the water, batch after batch, to fill the tub. But this, this beautiful, steaming bath is divine. I remove my clothes and lower myself into it without another thought. It's warm and indulgent, and… maybe I can enjoy this, as well.

As I lay in the warm water, my attention catches on my left hand, on the birthmark on its back. The intricate lines that extend from each finger and gather into a swirl has darkened like I spent too much time in the sun, yet it only affected the mark. What was once the color of a healed-over scar is now several shades darker, almost brown. It's never changed color before, not like this. How is that possible? And, why now? Why here?

It's such an odd thing for someone to point out, not only because it's rude to point out somebody else's imperfections, but also because it's so unremarkable. Of what interest could it possibly be to the prowlers? This mark is beginning to feel like the key to a door that I can't find.

Less than a full day has passed since I encountered the three strangers in the forest. Since the red eyes that I thought were imaginary stole me away to the palace. Since I found out that my parents traded my freedom for their safety. Since I used magic to send a pie flying through the air. Everything that I know, or thought I knew, has changed. That realization settles in my stomach like curdled milk.

Would anyone notice if I walked right out the front doors and never returned?

I plunge my head below the surface and pray that I'll wake from this bizarre dream. But while underneath the water, a funny sensation creeps up. It's a gentle caress in my mind like a lover's thumb drawing lazy circles on the most tender parts of my soul. It vanishes as soon as I emerge from the water. The emptiness that fills the void left by that feeling causes my heart to ache for something that I have never known.

* * *

The following morning, Gemma and Viola greet me with a chipperness that should be illegal at such an early hour as they tie back the curtains on the bed frame. "Rise and shine, sleepyhead," Gemma coos.

My eyes burn as they adjust to the sudden shift from total darkness to bright unfiltered morning light. Or is it still morning? Gods, I don't know for sure. I ask, "What time is it?

Moose, who found his way back to the bedroom by nightfall, remains curled up by my side. He buries his head deeper into the blanket and lets out a disapproving huff.

"Around nine," Viola answers.

Nine? In the morning? I can't remember the last time I slept this late. I usually rise with the sun, unless the nightmares wake me sooner. Looking out the window, I confirm that the sun is, in fact, higher in the sky than I'm used to seeing when I wake. I don't remember waking up at all last night. Not even once.

For the first time in years, I didn't wake up in a cold sweat. No red eyes glared at me. I feel… rested.

"Their Royal Highnesses are waiting for you to join them for breakfast," Viola says as she peruses the armoire. She drags her hand across each of the dresses crammed into it and then stops on a fabric the color of rubies. She pulls it out and twirls it around, inspecting it from various angles. "This will go nicely with your complexion, I think."

The corner of my mouth perks up, if only to assure her of my thanks.

Nerves rumble viciously in my stomach. I'm not ready to speak to the king and queen. I thought that I would have more time to gather my thoughts so that I can plead a coherent and convincing case. My future depends on their answer.

My shoulders slump underneath the weight of that burden.

"Come on, Radya, you're already late." Gemma holds out a hand to help me out of bed. I follow her command and follow then Viola to the vanity, where she's waiting with a silver brush. When I sit, she yanks my hair back and begins brushing furiously.

"Ouch!"

"Sorry, sorry. Gemma and I were responsible for getting you to breakfast this morning, but we felt guilty waking you up. We let you sleep as long as we could, I promise, but they're getting antsy. We need to make you presentable before… well, an hour ago." Viola says as her nimble fingers work strands of my hair into braids, tying them just below the crown of my head.

"I appreciate you letting me sleep. I can't remember the last time I slept so well, or so late," I whisper, still struggling to rouse my brain after such a long night of deep, uninterrupted sleep.

Once Viola finds satisfaction with her work, she taps my shoulder and says, "Alright, let's go." The bottom half is left down, and I notice the lopsided cut. Maybe I'll ask Viola to fix that later.

Thankfully, both Gemma and Viola walk me over to the dining room. Rather, I walk while they float next to me. This place is so massive, so overwhelming. I surely would get lost on my own. How could anyone ever feel at home here amongst the endless maze of hallways and rooms? It's a mystery how a place can be so ornate and yet so nondescript at the same time. Every statue, every painting, every golden candlestick blurs together amid the endless hallways.

This place doesn't feel like a home.

* * *

The king and queen sit across from each other near the end of the table. I feel like a fly caught in a spider's web when their eyes meet mine. No amount of wiggling will set me free. I must look the spider in the face to set myself free.

"Glad to see that you're finally awake," the king says dryly. I wonder if that tone applies only to me, or if he speaks as stiffly with everyone he meets. He motions for me to sit at the head of the table, smack dab in the middle of them. Prime for an interrogation.

They have a polish that goes beyond learned grace. It is evident in the straight lines of their shoulders, the coolness of their composure, and the faint glow of their skin. Those ruby crowns were made for them, it seems. And in every way that they are regal, I am their opposite, no matter how hard Viola tries to make me look presentable. I could never carry myself with so much confidence.

"I apologize for keeping you waiting, Your Highnesses." My attempt at a smile gets lost in the thrum of my nerves.

"That's alright. And please, call us by our first names, Eleanor and Vani. There is no need for formality among family," says Eleanor affectionately.

How could they consider us family? The idea of it is downright preposterous. I have one family. Or, correction, I had one family. They may be gone, but they cannot be replaced.

A servant sneaks up behind me and fills my cup with coffee, closely followed by a second attendant with a plate of sausage, ham, and eggs. It appears to be all for me, since neither Eleanor nor Vani so much as glance at it.

I'll never be comfortable with such large meals being served so frequently. But when neither of them moves, I'm struck with even deeper discomfort.

Am I supposed to eat alone? I wait another minute to see if they grab anything, but they remain still. Finally, Eleanor inclines her head toward the spread and says, "Please, eat something."

I attempt to eat as gracefully as possible, if only to avoid a repeat of yesterday's fiasco with Olly. But, if I'm honest, I don't know how to eat gracefully. In front of Olly, I shoveled down as much food as I could. Maybe if I do the opposite of that and eat slowly, taking one tiny bite at a time, then I can pass their test. So that's what I do, taking one tiny scoop of eggs at a time and chewing for as long as I can hold the food in my mouth without swallowing.

They carefully watch my every move without interjecting or offering icebreakers to ease the tension. I'm surprised that I was able to eat anything at all with my nerves pumping this wildly.

Only once I set my fork down on the plate does Vani say, "Olly informed us that you used magic yesterday."

"Yes." My cheeks flush. Of all of the ways that this conversation could have started, why did it have to be about my temper tantrum at the breakfast table? I want to downplay what happened, if not dodge the question altogether. "He challenged me to try it, and I was successful."

Please leave it at that.

A crooked smile creeps to his lips, cracking the cool exterior for the first time since we met. "We're happy to see that you're testing your power so soon. And that you're putting Olly in his place."

I nearly spit juice into his face. "That certainly wasn't my intention. I'm so sor-" I start to apologize, but Eleanor interrupts.

"I see no need for apologies. We are thrilled to see you developing your magic." She reaches across the corner of the table to place a hand on top of mine, squeezing it gently. "We would love to see you develop it further, so we found a tutor to help you master your skills."

"Thank you." Despite my jitters, I feel a hint of relief, maybe even excitement, at the prospect of developing my magic. A tutor can nurture my skills and help me understand my supposed gift. Throwing a pie at Olly might be impressive, but it's not the type of power that would interest a king. There must be something else, something greater that I cannot yet see. "Might I have other powers? Besides throwing food, that is."

They exchange an indiscernible look. "Yes, you might, but only time will tell," Eleanor responds. "You will begin your lessons with Sir Magis this afternoon. Your lady's maids will fetch you when he arrives."

"Thank you. I really do look forward to it."

At this, the two abruptly rise from their seats, and I start to panic. I didn't get an opportunity to ask the questions burning a hole in my mind. Can I leave? Do I have a choice? I need to know. And before I can stop myself, I shout, "Wait!" They freeze, wearing expressions of bemused surprise as they turn back to me. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to yell. But I have… a question."

I just yelled at the crowned regents of Mendacia. Gods, have I lost it? They could have me thrown from the cliffs or locked in a cell for such insolence.

"Go on, then." Vani lowers back into his seat a bit unevenly, as if he has some stiffness or injury hidden in his bones. Eleanor stands beside him, resting her arm on the back of his chair and casually leaning against it.

Their focused attention makes me squirm, and I consider backing away from the conversation completely. No, I have to do this. I have to face my fears and speak to them if I want any chance of owning my future.

I try to ease into the conversation with flattery. "You have both been so kind and welcoming. I appreciate it, really."

"Spit it out. We have meetings to attend," Vani barks impatiently. "Or have you forgotten that we waited an hour for you to grace us with your presence?"

This is not starting well. Swallowing hard, I summon the courage to ask my questions.

Be direct.

Be clear.

"When it comes to the arrangement with Olly, do I have a choice?"

"No," he grunts. "Anything else?"

The shock moves through me like poison, seizing hold of my entire body. His response was so quick, so cold. That can't be the end of the conversation. There must be a way to negotiate.

"I can work for you," I hastily offer as an alternative. "Once my powers develop, I could become an employee. Whatever powers I may or may not have could still be used at your disposal, only without taking the marriage vows or becoming the future Queen of Mendacia."

Those words make me cringe.

Eleanor's response is gentler. I get the sense that she's the sander to the king's hard edges, always easing his blows. "I understand your hesitation. We sprung a lot of information on you rather quickly. Allow me to elaborate on our expectations for this arrangement. This is not intended to be a love match. Your role in marrying our son is to stand by his side. To be a beautiful figurehead. Olly will handle ruling the kingdom, and you may choose how much or how little you want to participate. Your freedom will belong to you, and you alone. If you wish, you may choose a thousand other lovers. And in the meantime, you may live comfortably, lavishly even. You will never want for anything. You will never struggle in dingy markets again. You will be waited on hand and foot." She sighs, reading my expression of hurt and squashed hope, and offers a conciliatory smile. "Would you truly want to give that up?"

"What if I said yes? That I do want to give it all up?" I pause to gauge their reactions, but they wait for me to continue with masks of pure patience. "I need to know that the choice to leave remains my own. That I am not trapped here. I spent my whole life trapped inside of a bubble, and I won't allow myself to be locked in another cage, no matter how gilded and grand."

"Let's make a deal." Vani places his elbows on the table and leans forward. This seems to be his stance when speaking a hard truth, and I brace for the impact. "Give us one month to convince you that you are well-suited to this life. If at the end of the month, you decide to forgo the arrangement, we will discuss an alternative path forward. In the meantime, you may spend your time practicing magic, exploring the country, or whatever it is that you want to do. I believe that you'll come to find that this life isn't as unbearable as you imagine."

One month, that's all.

I can use that time to learn more about my powers, more about myself. If things go awry, then I walk away. I have an out.

I can handle that.

"Deal."