Chapter 2

Over the next few days, I studied harder than ever, eager to succeed in my new responsibilities. Everyone in the castle kept congratulating me on my role; being appointed at a young age was an honor. Father was ecstatic that I was going to be working with him, though in public, he acted dignified and unenthusiastic.

The day we left for Avivia, Mother and my sister Comfort presented me with a beautiful necklace, a delicate chain with small emeralds studded along in intervals. “Emeralds are a symbol of wisdom and knowledge,” Mother said to me as she clasped it around my neck. “I am so proud of you, Truly. I know you will do so well.” She hugged me. Comfort also hugged me goodbye, saying that she would plan the biggest ball imaginable to celebrate my success when I returned, as was the custom in our kingdom.

As the carriage door snapped shut behind me, I was gripped with a combination of fear, anxiety, and excitement. I swallowed hard; my mouth felt dry. Father was sharing the coach with me, and he smiled reassuringly. “I was nervous before my first assignment too,” he said, and patted my knee. “Everything will be fine.”

We waved to Mother and Comfort as the carriage jolted into movement, carrying us forward, toward my first official assignment. Mother and Comfort waved back, skirts ruffling in the gentle breeze. Several of the boys I tutored ran to keep up with the carriage, racing each other and leaping over the low ditches in the courtyard. Just before the carriage swept out of the palace ground gates, they fell behind, and we were off to Avivia.

I stared hard at the neat manor houses now whipping by my window. I felt Father’s gaze on me, but wasn’t sure what to say. Confide that I was scared? Tell him I would make him proud? I knew he was, but I felt the need to prove myself.

As if he knew what I was thinking, Father took one of my hands in both of his. “Don’t worry, my dear. This will be a good introduction into your professional life.” He winked. “I think Crown Princess Aria would much prefer a fun youthful translator to an old stuffy bore like me.”

“Tell me about her,” I pleaded, wishing I had a portrait of her so I would know who to look for upon arrival.

Father smiled broadly. “You and Aria will become good friends, I am sure. She is about your age and height, long straight black hair that comes to her waist, dark eyes… She is musical and is an accomplished harp player. She has a level head about matters of state and is an intelligent girl. She speaks Islandrian too, so it shouldn’t be difficult to communicate, even if there are a couple words amiss. She will probably perform at the reception banquet tonight. She usually does. The Avivian court always welcomes foreign delegations with a musical recital.”

“I’m not musical,” I mumbled, more to myself than anyone else. His description of Aria reminded me of Comfort a bit. Talented, smart, musical, well-liked. But even if I wasn’t musical, I felt like I would enjoy being a court linguist, especially if I was assigned to another girl my age. Besides Curtis and Comfort, I really didn’t have many friends. There were plenty of servants at the castle, many of whom were close to me in age, but as Father was so high ranking, there was protocol to follow. Servants and aristocracy were not to intermingle.

Father fished some leaflets out of his satchel, and sat back to review documents for upcoming meetings and negotiations. I didn’t want to disturb his focus, so allowed my gaze to drift once more out of the carriage window to watch the countryside become wilder and more forested as we journeyed on.

Several days later, we arrived at the Avivian palace. I was mesmerized by their countryside. Instead of the rigid trees of pine and oak on a bed of grass, I watched tropical trees whisk past my view, laden down with coconuts and bananas. In the last several inns, the food served had a tangy, exotic flavor bursting with color that was much more exciting than our typical meat and potato-based banquets. Children splashed each other among the waves, or ran gleefully across the beaches, spraying up sand as their heels kicked behind them. I wished I had packed lighter clothes. The heavy woolen dresses I had were quickly becoming unbearable in the bright sunshine of this southern country.

As enthralled as I was about the surrounding scenery, apprehension about the upcoming meeting still crept up to knot my stomach. Our carriage rolled and bumped along the cobblestone road up to the giant front doors, painted gold and looking dazzling in the afternoon sun. A welcoming party stood beside a plush carpet that rolled from the front door down to our carriage.

“Is Aria there?” I asked, my eyes searching the small crowd.

Father smiled. “No, darling, she isn’t. Can you imagine Prince Hubert waiting out in the hot sun to greet a low-ranking foreign delegate?”

I giggled. “I guess not. But Curtis would.”

“He would at that,” agreed Father. “That boy doesn’t abide by protocol at all. But the crown princess has more important matters on her hands than saying hello a few minutes before everyone else. There is usually one of the princes or princesses out there though. The Avivian court expects at least one member of the royal family to greet our country’s representatives. Ah, it looks like little Aurelia is there now.”

The carriage halted, and a footman leapt forward to unfasten the steps and to open the door for us. I held my head high and stepped down, remembering that now, I represented the court of Islandria. I thought of Mother’s wide warm smiles, and tried to imitate one now, smiling as I made my way forward to the delegate assigned to greet us, hoping I looked elegant and refined. I heard Father climb out of the carriage behind me just as a young girl with black hair cascading past her elbows and a thin golden circlet stepped forward and handed me a bouquet of colorful and exotic smelling flowers.

“Her Highness, the Princess Aurelia!” a voice boomed out as I accepted the flowers.

“Your Highness,” I said in Avivian while I curtsied. “It is an honor to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Princess Aurelia’s voice chirruped in her sweet voice. She couldn’t be more than six years old, and already had a dignified air about her, as though she was well aware of the necessity to keep up appearances. She reminded me strongly of what Prince Hubert was like when he was young.

I ascended the castle steps, and heard Father behind me, bowing and greeting the young princess as well. I stood just outside the front door, waiting to be shown where to go. A servant appeared, handing us thin glasses of a faintly pink liquid and gesturing us inside to sit on plush sofas.

“Crown Princess Aria will receive you in due course,” the servant said in his native tongue. “Enjoy your refreshment.”

We were left to sip the refreshing juice as the servant’s soft-slippered feet moved silently away. The few other delegates from our party also sat stiffly on seats, waiting for our turn to be seen into the throne room. As I looked around, I had to remind myself to breath—the view was stunning.

This palace was the complete opposite from our castle back home. The Islandrian castle was spacious and elaborate, it was true, but there were many small rooms partitioned off along each hall, sometimes giving a slightly claustrophobic air about it. Thick, heavy tapestries covered our walls, showing great feats in battle, but the blood and gore depicted everywhere sometimes left me feeling squeamish. And the stale air in our castle, trapped in the many rooms, often felt stuffy and musty.

But here, there were innumerable windows, all flung open to invite in the balmy summer breeze. A soft, thin fabric of light blue hung over the bare stretches of walls, and with the wind blowing gently through the halls, the fabric fluttered faintly, giving the impression that we were watching waves steadily rolling in from the ocean. The illusion was also helped along by the fact that through the open window, I could hear the cries of seagulls and the waves crashing along the beach not far from here. Ornate chandeliers of crystal hung from the high ceilings, catching the bright sunlight pouring in from the windows and casting dancing rainbows all over the spacious hall.

Our castle was made from thick stone; in contrast, the Avivian palace walls were made from a light sandstone, glossed over with that luminous golden shine. My view from the nearest window showed an immaculate courtyard, gardens alive with every color imaginable, and fountains merrily throwing water toward the sky. ‘This’ I thought, ‘is how royalty was meant to live!’

“Like it?” Father whispered.

I looked around at him and saw him watching me with amusement. I realized my mouth was gaping open in amazement and quickly snapped my jaw closed. Father said, “I was in awe the first time I came here too. It is simply breathtaking.”

I pulled myself together. This was no time to be a gaping child. I was an official ambassador of Islandria. And I would honor my country by being dignified and proper.

It was a long wait, and I began to get a little antsy. Glancing around surreptitiously, I supposed it must be the typical routine—to wait for extended periods of time. I saw that several delegates had extracted papers to review, or lengthy scrolls to read, as they waited. I wished I had thought to bring along something for myself too, but all my books were locked in my luggage, on their way to be placed in our quarters by a servant, no doubt. I watched clouds slowly cover then uncover the sun through the window opposite my spot on the sofa. A bead of sweat rolled down my cheek as I sat waiting, anticipating the arrival, but the time stretched longer and longer with no sign of being allowed in.

Just as I was beginning to doze off, a voice wheezed, “The Crown Princess awaits.”

I snapped to attention. Curse those soft-soled slippers all the servants wore here. I hadn’t heard his arrival at all. Delegates were standing, and I leapt to my feet as well, trying my best to compose myself and look just as official as all the people around me.

We were led down the hall with the thin fluttering drapes, down another hall that had long stretches of windows open to the spectacular view of the ocean. Palm trees bent gracefully in the breeze, and tropical birds flew from branch to branch, calling to each other. I couldn’t tear my eyes away.

I mentally shook myself. What a simple bumpkin I was, gawping out the window. Surely, I looked like a foolish young girl to everyone else. I fixed my eyes forward. There would be time later to go and explore. But right now, my only concern was making my country proud as the youngest delegate from Islandria.

The servant, silent as ever, halted our procession and padded noiselessly forward, passing a man in an ostentatious robe with a matching hat, all a deep violet spangled with orange diamond shapes. He wore skintight yellow leggings. What would have looked ludicrous in our own halls back home seemed to merely add to the fascinating culture here.

I was proud that I didn’t stare, and Father leaned down next to me. “He is the bard,” Father whispered in my ear. Of course. Much to chagrin of other members in the castle, Prince Hubert had dismissed our own bard years before, saying that he was the cause of too much frivolity, and that such levity was not appreciated. But I still remember sitting, enthralled, listening to legendary tales of long ago and songs passed down through the generations. I couldn’t recollect our bard wearing such flamboyant colors, but I did remember with great fondness the hours Curtis and I had spent enchanted by the bard’s stories and ballads. I hoped the bard would be performing during our stay.

The soft-soled servant had come to large doors, also painted that shimmering gold color and this time studded with jewels. This could only be the throne room. He stood outside and clapped. Once, twice, then an additional two times in rapid procession. This must have been a signal, because just after he had clapped, the doors swung inward.

“Announcing the delegates from Islandria,” an unseen, stately voice boomed out.