by Karin Biggs
“FELIX!” shouted a girl with a crooked-nose who stood to reveal a pair of smudged, intensely violet lips. “That lip balm you gave me last night was clear!”
Felix shrugged and didn’t bother to rise out of his seat to speak with the girl. “Never trust a magician. And it looks like Sarah can’t trust her boyfriend around you either.”
I followed the turning heads in the dining hall to find a boy whose lips had turned the same vivid shade. The girl sitting next to him left the room crying, leaving the crooked-nose girl behind her shouting for both Sarah and the boy.
Felix and his cohorts roared with laughter. Nobody else in the dining hall seemed to find his trick as humorous.
I returned my attention back to my food. “Why is there animosity between you and Felix?”
Ari sighed. “That’s a long story.”
“I enjoy long stories.”
Ari took another sip of his drink. “Tasha, my girlfriend, went on a ski trip last winter when I was helping my dad move into his apartment. One of her friends told me she kissed Felix, and we had this huge fight about how I hadn’t been spending enough time with her. I was so focused on all the stuff with my dad, that I pushed her to the side I guess.”
“So, did she really kiss Felix?”
He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter if she did or didn’t. We’re better now.”
“But why is Felix angry with you? It only makes sense that you should be angry with him.”
“Wow, I haven’t even finished my hot chocolate yet and you’re asking the tough questions.” Ari smiled, so I didn’t feel like I was overstepping Mondarian bounds.
He rubbed the side of his nose. “My family used to own a tree farm that employed a bunch of people in Badger River. My dad managed the finances and told us we were doing well all the time, but then the bank showed up and kicked us out of our house. Turns out my dad wasn’t gone for his sales meetings he told us about—he was gambling all our money away. Felix’s dad worked for my dad, so when we lost our farm, Felix’s dad lost his job.”
I nodded and had a sudden of appreciation for my kingdom. Capalons weren’t allowed to gamble for reasons like Ari’s dad. We were a productive people and gambling was far from productive. Still, I couldn’t help but have sympathy for Ari. He lost his own home due to his father’s poor decision-making.
Ari leaned his elbows on the table. “Anyway, how about some lighter conversation? What’s your favorite color?”
I swallowed my last bit of donut. “All of them. Except for grey. Yours?”
“Red—the color of Christmas and my favorite flannels.”
“Why the flannel obsession?”
“Why not?”
He smiled and my eyes lingered on his mouth. “How did you get the scar on your lip?”
“Fell while climbing a boulder when I was a kid. How did you get into singing?”
“My mother.”
“She’s a singer too?”
I nodded.
“And your dad—does he sing?”
“No. He’s dead.”
Ari’s black brows softened. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Do you have any siblings?”
“One older sister.”
“Has she taken over some of those parental responsibilities?”
“Yeah, kind of. Chip actually…”
What was I doing?
Ari waited patiently for me to continue, but I revealed far too much information to a boy who was also my enemy. A boy who could out me in front of a room full of Mondarians, resulting in sudden-death at the hands of Captain Murphy or anyone with a weapon.
“Chip? Who’s that?” Ari finally asked.
I licked my lips. “Um…my dog. I actually need to go. Layla wanted me to meet her in the rehearsal studio, so…” I picked my tray up off the table.
“Oh, okay. Talk to you later?” asked Ari, his brown eyes waiting for my response.
Why did talking to Ari feel safe and dangerous at the same time? The Mondarian food had to be playing games with my neurons. “Yes,” I said, cursing myself for the wrong response. “Talk to you later.”
Through the transparent glass of one of the rehearsal studios, I found Layla’s head bobbing behind a piano. Then Darden walked past me toward a studio with a black opaque door. “Darden, can we talk?”
But he kept walking, so I followed.
“If you’re going to bother me in here, could you at least close the door?” he asked.
Obeying his request, I closed the door, then turned around. “Why are you ignoring me and Ari? Is it because I solved your magic tricks? I won’t tell anyone, I promise. I just think that it isn’t fair to Ari that—”
“And tell me, Miss Marigold, how is it that you were able to solve a mathematical illusion in mere seconds?” He turned around and my feet carried me backward.
“Just…quick observation,” I said with shortened breath.
“What’s the name of the lake that sits in the middle of Green Heights?”
“Um…” My brain searched for an answer. “The locals all call it something different.”
Darden crossed his arms and stepped toward me. “There is no lake in the middle of Green Heights.”
“Oh…I know that. I was just—”
“I’m only going to ask you this once.” Darden’s face was so close to mine, I could taste his minty breath from his blue piece of chewing gum. “Are you from Capalon?”
I was cornered. I had nowhere to go. My pulse communicated the same message to my brain.
He knows.
My mouth opened for a second with no sound escaping other than my staccato breathing. “I’m not…”
Darden’s eyes hardened on mine, my terrified face looking back at me through his black-framed lenses. I could almost hear the reverberation of my heart off his chest. His intense glare was such a foreign look for him, causing me to notice how he towered over me, how his forearm muscles wove between thick veins and his jawline cut at sharp, square edges.
He reached for something in his jacket and I panicked. “Chip, deploy pepper spray!” I shoved my palm in his face and turned my head.
Darden fell to the ground with a painful cry.
I jumped for the door.
“Wait!” Darden shouted through a violent cough and watering eyes. “I’m not going to tell anyone, I swear!”
I paused at the door as something fell at my feet. The thing Darden was reaching for was a notebook.
“Look through it. It’s full of all my tricks and ideas. I could use your help—your scientific knowledge to make me an even better magician. Help me…and I’ll keep your secret safe.”
“And if I don’t help you, you’ll tell everyone who I am?”
Darden pulled a cloth from his pocket and wiped the mucus from his nose. “No. A magician never reveals the other magician in the room. But…I could make it easy for other people to make that discovery on their own. Who are you, anyway? Why are you here?”
I shook my head. “You know that I’m Capalon. That’s bad enough.”
He nodded. “Understood. A magician never shows all of his cards. So, it’s a deal then?” He held out his hand, but I hesitated shaking it.
“What kind of trick do you need my help for?”
His eyes focused on the ceiling. “Something so spectacular it would make you fall in love with somebody you don’t even know.”
“You want to impress a girl?”
“Impress is too light of a word. I want her to be…mystified.”
I scratched the back of my head. “And you swear you won’t tell anybody who I am?”
Darden’s eyes returned to mine. “Miss Marigold, a magician’s deepest secrets are the methods behind his tricks. This notebook contains everything. And I swear on this notebook—a paper-bound copy of my soul—that your secret is safe with me.”
Could I trust a Mondarian magician with my secret? The door handle was inches from my hand. I could run out of the rehearsal studio and call for an auto-taxi
outside the Mansion. I could go back to Capalon and forget that I ever set foot in Mondaria. I could forget about my mother, apologize to my sister and meet my match like a good Capalon princess.
But something about Darden’s intensity felt familiar—it was the same ambition that controlled the citizens of Capalon—the same ambition that led me to Mondaria. “Deal,” I said, shaking Darden’s hand.
He turned my hand to look at the underside of my wrist which glowed blue. “Fascinating. Imagine the magic I could perform with this technology.”
I reeled my hand away. “Who’s the girl you’re using illegal technology to impress?”
Through swollen eyes and a running nose, Darden smiled. “The queen of hearts.”
Our first rehearsal as the collective King’s 100 took place inside the Stardust Ballroom. Agnes and Eric walked us through placements on the ballroom floor before the maestro entered. His presence eliminated the quiet laughter and whispered conversation that took place during the managers’ instruction. Maestro climbed the steps to a wooden stage at the front of the ballroom as Francis took a seat at a piano on the floor.
Maestro started to address us just as the main set of doors opened behind us. He lifted his head. “Mr. Adaire, are you really showing up late to my rehearsal?”
“Yes, sir, I apologize,” Felix said as he fell into position with the other magicians.
The maestro crossed his arms. “How is it that you’re in your fourth and final season on my court and you choose to show up late to rehearsal now?”
“No excuse, sir,” responded Felix.
Maestro rubbed his square chin. “Okay. Get out.”
“What?”
“You’re off my court. I’ve only kept you this long because the king likes you, but I don’t care anymore. You’re done, Felix.”
“That’s not fair.” Felix’s voice wavered. “I need this last season stipend to pay off my new snowmobile.”
The maestro’s face twisted. “That’s what you people spend your money on? Pathetic. Guards! Anybody out there? Come get this piece of trash out of my ballroom!”
Two guards appeared and escorted Felix to the doors.
“No! I’m not leaving! You can’t do this to me! The king will find out and, and—” but the guards closed the doors before Felix could finish his threat.
Maestro pulled a music stand to the center of the stage. “Everyone can be replaced, people. Doesn’t matter if you’re a Fourth Season or a new member. Okay, places for the Blessing!”
My muscles instinctively tensed as I pulled out the sheet music for the Blessing Song. Would Maestro immediately target me once we started singing or would he wait till the end of the rehearsal? To my relief, I was gifted the comfort of singing through the entire song without interruption. My ears battled with the urge to listen to the surrounding voices or concentrate on my own notes. I loved the blend of the added voices from the returning members and how our sound filled the expansive ballroom. But my ears’ warm bath in the bubbling blend of voices turned cold at the maestro’s cut off on the last chorus.
“No! Tenors, what key is that? They key of lazy singing? You call yourselves singers?” He reached for something out of his pocket, then jumped off the stage. “Who needs a key? I have about, oh twenty on this keyring.” He proceeded to peel brass and silver keys off his large key ring and hurl them at each tenor he passed.
I held my breath, fearing that one of the maestro’s keys would impale a tenor’s face.
And then the back of my neck prickled with excitement.
Keys.
Taking a key out of the guard’s station might have been an impossible task, but that was before my new friend, the magician, blackmailed me.
At lunch, I whispered to Darden to meet me in one of the rehearsal studios. I paced the floor of a doorless studio when he entered.
“This rehearsal studio doesn’t have a door,” he said.
I heard from one of the returning court ladies that Maestro hurled a chair into the door the Season before out of anger at some singer. Thankfully, only the door was damaged. “All the other ones are taken. Just keep your voice down, we’ll be fine.”
Darden took another look behind him, then sat down on the piano bench while I continued to pace with my hands clasped behind my back. “There’s something from the guards’ room; a key.”
“If you’re planning to assassinate the king, I can’t help you.”
I shook my head. “No, it’s nothing like that. It’s the key to the Records Room.” I took a step closer to him and lowered my voice. “I think one of our citizens might have escaped to Mondaria and I want to check the documentation.”
“So, that’s why you’re here? You’re looking for an escaped Capalon?”
I nodded.
He smiled. “Done. Stealing keys is no challenge for me.”
“Thank you!”
“As long as you agree to be my date to Grape Stomp.”
My throat went dry. “Why?”
“You know why. We’ll be spending time together. Might as well make it look like there’s a reason for it.” I followed his eyes to the replacement acrylic glass panel that had been brought into the studio but not affixed to the doorframe. I hadn’t even noticed it since it was so transparent. “I already have ideas,” he said still staring at the glass pane. “And you’re required to help me.”
Grape Stomp was weeks away. I hoped I would be back in Capalon with my mother by then, so I agreed to be Darden’s date. “But I need the key first,” I said.
He nodded. “Absolutely. A magician always follows through.”
And he followed through with his task way faster than I expected. That night, I stood with the other new members inside a small dining room, where we were told we would dine with ‘special guests.’ Darden handed me a deck of cards as we awaited further instruction from Agnes and Eric. “You’ll find what you asked for in here,” he whispered.
I slipped the deck into my newly tailored blazer pocket. “That was fast.”
“That’s because I’m the best,” he said with a smug grin.
I thanked Darden before heading over to Ari, who displayed a closed-smile on his face while rhythmically tapping his index fingers on an invisible drum. “Does your joyful temperament have anything to do with a certain magician getting kicked off the court today?” I asked, unable to fight a smile at the sight.
Ari stopped his air-drumming and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I don’t like lying, so I’m not going to say no; that’s exactly what it has to do with. Plus, my roommate decided to talk to me again.”
“And the fact that we have no idea who we’re dining with doesn’t bother you?”
“Nope,” he said rocking on the heels of his feet. “I just know it’s nobody too important. They save the big events for the important ones—like the Harvest Ball tomorrow.”
I nodded, finding comfort in Ari’s logic.
Agnes finally told us all to find a seat, so I sat at a table with Ari, Darden, Layla and Staci. Four seats were still open at our table and my heart accelerated. Why wouldn’t they tell us who we would dine with?
The room was silent except for Agnes, who shut the two large doors at the back of the room. She leaned against the door, as if waiting for some sort of signal.
Then three loud knocks from the other side of the doors turned our heads.
“New Ladies and Gentlemen of the King’s 100,” shouted Agnes.
“Yes, ma’am,” we replied.
“Allow me to introduce you to our special guests this evening—” She grinned and opened the doors. “—the returning members of the King’s 100.”
We stood to welcome our comrades as if they were real guests of the Mansion. Every returning courting member wore a ridiculous outfit—some elegant, most likely pulled from the back of the tailor’s storage room. Others were homemade, like sheets held up with rope and hats made from toilet paper. Some boys were dressed as girls and some girls dressed as boys. M
ake-up was intentionally overdone and gaudy.
As the returning members chose their seats, Agnes hopped up on a chair. “Treat this dinner as you would a real one. Keep all the rules about court conversation in mind, no matter how…challenging your conversation may be. Okay, greet your guests!” Agnes pulled a large orange hat out of a bag and took a seat at a table.
Two boys and one girl approached our table. I greeted the boy to my right, who wore nothing but a purple velvet robe and had a black swirly mustache drawn under his nose. “Hello my dear, sweet court lady. I’m Mr. Sleeps-with-a-lot-of-women,” he said in a low, dramatic voice.
The girl to my left introduced herself as a Lady Lovely and wore a bright red fitted dress that squeezed together an inappropriate amount of cleavage. Three feather boas wrapped around her shoulders and her make-up was a burst of color from her forehead down to the tops of her breasts. The scent of something sour wafted from her breath and her speech slurred. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Mothercold.”
After a few minutes, I discovered just how challenging the test was, given the fact that just about every statement or question out of the girl’s mouth involved something vulgar or slanderous. But it forced me to use just about every conversation tactic in the court handbook:
Never apologize for a Mansion Guest’s issues.
Refrain from answering personal questions.
Deflect from all topics pertaining to sex, politics and religion.
Even though the majority of the people in the room served as a colorful form of entertainment, my eyes continued to be drawn to a black-haired boy’s laughter and smile.
I felt my stomach turn acidic from the amount of butter and fat from our meal, but I continued eating, savoring the flavor of every mouthful. I was about to shovel in another bite of food when a scream turned our heads.
Two court members wandered around the tables, scaring people by popping up behind their shoulders. I joined in with the laughter at the reactions, but when the two court members neared our table, I dropped my fork—their faces were painted to look like corpses, dressed all in grey and their exposed wrists were painted bright blue. Their name tags stated that they were THE EVIL KING GAVIN and THE EVIL QUEEN REBECCA or as I knew them, my father and mother.
