The King's 100

by Karin Biggs

  Ari was just a nice boy who wanted to talk to a friend.

  And I happened to be the one he picked to fill the position.

  The maestro was on good behavior for our sectionals that day, having only hurled one pen into the risers when the basses missed their entrance.

  Layla walked out of the rehearsal room with me when we finished. “Reese is driving me crazy, working on this duet together.”

  “Still can’t talk without fighting?”

  “Even worse. Now he’s saying things like ‘I love our blend’ and ‘thanks for pointing out that fermata.’ He even stayed to watch me play piano after our allotted rehearsal time together.”

  “And this is bad because?”

  “Because he’s treating me like I’m one of the girls who swoon over him. It’s like he thinks his long arms and eyes draw these girls in and he’s so proud to have everyone under his spell.”

  I tapped my chin. “Oh yeah, what color are his eyes again? Brown?”

  “No, they’re like a grey-blue, with a hint of green.”

  I turned to look at Layla with raised brows and a playful smile.

  “What’s that look for?”

  “Nothing. Just that you had to be looking at him pretty well to know the exact pigmentation of his iris.”

  “That’s not…I wasn’t looking like that. We just look at each other a lot while we sing.”

  “Funny, I thought Maestro specifically told you two to not look at each other in sectionals today?”

  She let out a groan. “You know what I mean.” We took a few steps together in silence. “Did you know that his dad is a ski coach? If he didn’t get into the King’s 100, he was going to try to be a competitive skier.”

  I shook my head and watched the floor below us change from smooth stone to glassy marble. “We don’t talk to each other when we sing other than about the music. We just sing.”

  “He’s probably just making up lies to pose as a normal human. It’s easier to seduce a girl when you come off as normal.”

  I laughed. “Layla, Reese is being nice to you because he’s a genuinely nice guy. He’s not trying to seduce you. Unless…you want to be seduced?”

  “No! And by him of all people? He’s so egotistical and maybe he’s a good singer, but he’s a lousy songwriter, just like he’s a lousy kisser.”

  “I never said he was a lousy kisser—you did. But I’m sure there’s a way you could find out for sure.”

  Layla pushed against me with her shoulder. “What about you and Heather? You looked all chummy in rehearsal today for putting dibs on her crush last night.”

  I scratched behind my ear. “Yeah…that’s because I told her I didn’t mean it this morning.”

  Layla’s brows creased.

  “Layla, Ari and I are just friends. You have to believe me.”

  She nodded. “You’re right. Maybe giving him a rebound is a good thing.”

  “A what?”

  “A rebound—the first person you date after a breakup. Normally it’s fleeting and means nothing. But it’s a way to heal before moving on to your next relationship.”

  I sighed. “So many things I learn from you, Layla Tanvi.”

  Layla wrapped her arms around me as we continued to walk the hall. “You know you love me, princess.”

  I giggled and hugged her back.

  Maybe I was forgetting that I was a Capalon and she was Mondarian. Or maybe I was just playing a role. Whatever I was doing, it didn’t feel forbidden or wrong. I just felt like a teenage girl.

  The next morning when my alarm went off at too early of an hour, I was somehow full of energy. I kept on my pajama pants and put on a sweatshirt on over my t-shirt. I bounded down the stairs to see Ari blowing air into a small flame in one of the fireplaces. The sun hadn’t bothered waking up with us, keeping the Lounge in a few more minutes of darkness. “You were serious when you said you would start a fire,” I said, impressed with Ari’s willingness to do physical labor at such an early hour.

  “Only for you, Paris,” he said with a polite smile.

  When the sound of popping and hissing reached my plush chair at the hearth, Ari took his own seat opposite from me. He tapped his armrests, then leaned back. “So, where should we start?”

  For the next couple weeks, we answered each other’s questions ranging from ‘how many donuts do you think you could eat before puking’ to ‘how many children do you want to have someday?’ He would tell me about his family back in Badger River. I would tell him about my mother or funny things my sister and I used to do. And anytime a conversation turned too specific about Green Heights, I would remind him I didn’t get out much being homeschooled or switch the conversation back to him. And no matter how hard of a day we had the night before, we kept our promise and met at the same time every morning with Ari starting the fire. I didn’t mention my morning chats with Ari to anyone, not even Layla. I would open the door to our room, just as she was waking up, so it looked like I was returning from the bathroom.

  One night while Layla was in the rehearsal studio, I asked Chip to walk me through the process of starting a fire. The following morning, I had a flame that insisted on going out every time I got the log to light.

  “What can I say? I’m impressed,” Ari said as he knelt down beside me to see the flame of my efforts. “You just need to blow some air on it to really get it going.” He signaled for me to bend down with him and we both blew air onto the flame. Our mouths were so close together, I could have turned my head and our lips would have touched.

  He was the first to sit back on his heels. “Hey, what do you think about a campfire party outside tonight? I’ve been wanting to have one before it gets too cold.”

  “Yeah, I think that would be fun. Oh wait, I told Reese I would sing with him after the ballroom show tonight.”

  “Why don’t you guys just sing for us at the campfire? I’m sure Reese wouldn’t mind an audience.”

  “I’m sure he wouldn’t. Okay. I’ll let him know.”

  The conversation that followed included listing our top five favorite desserts, other instruments we wished we knew how to play and Ari’s description of horseback riding.

  Later that day before singers’ sectionals, I was thinking about what questions I wanted to bring to our chat the next morning when Heather tapped me on the shoulder.

  “Have you seen Ari lately?” she asked. “I can’t seem to track him down.”

  I had been seeing so much of Ari, I forgot I had given up my ‘dibs’ on him to Heather. “No,” I said with a high pitch to my voice. “But I heard he’s having a campfire party tonight. You should come.”

  Heather agreed to attend the party and planned to bring Genevieve with her. After sectionals, I walked up to Reese and Layla who were arguing in the hallway.

  “Hillary March won the moguls championship last winter, not Eloise Howell,” Layla said.

  Reese spoke with open palms. “No, I’m telling you, I was there, and it was Eloise.”

  “Maybe you were there, but Hillary spoke at my ski team’s end-of-year banquet and I specifically remember her saying that she won the moguls.”

  “Two winters ago.”

  “Last winter!”

  “You were on a ski team?” I asked Layla.

  Layla tore her eyes off Reese to recognize my presence. “Yeah, I’m a record holder for my school. And I’m positive I would kick Reese’s butt on a moguls hill.”

  Reese smiled. “Like I said, I’m willing to put it to the test, if you are. But if you’re too chicken, we can just admit that I would have won and call it a day.”

  “Oh, it’s on, Olsen.”

  Layla and Reese shared competitive glares with a reverent undertone. I cleared my throat to break their silent connection and tell them about Ari’s campfire party.

  As predicted, Reese was thrilled for the opportunity to have an audience for his new songs. “It’ll be something fun after tonight’s boring State of the Kingdom Dinner,” Reese
said. “But Prince Corbin will be in attendance tonight, so you girls better perform your best if you want to win your way to the throne.”

  Poor Reese, if you only knew my secret.

  Layla’s smile faded and her face paled. “I have to go.”

  “Wait, are you coming or not?” I shouted.

  Layla shouted back a series of responses as she hurried away. “No! I mean, yes. Maybe. I don’t know! No.”

  “I think you need to mark Layla as ‘tentative,’” Reese said.

  The two of us watched her disappear around the corner.

  “I’ve never seen her that flustered,” I said.

  Reese smirked. “I have that effect on women.”

  “Then I bet you could give Prince Corbin a run for his money.”

  Reese shook his head. “No, you know me, Paris. I’m all talk. And the prince…he’s a true man-whore.”

  I told Reese I would see him at the campfire party and said goodbye when he stopped me.

  “Paris?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Layla is a cool girl.”

  And that’s when I saw it—the smile that Genevieve used when she talked about Robert—the same smile Darden used when he plotted his magic for Genevieve. And the same smile that I tried to suppress every time I was around Ari.

  Reese wore his smile for Layla.

  The State of the Kingdom Dinner lacked the dancing of the themed balls—something every court member was thrilled to do without. Our dresses were navy blue satin with a crisscross neckline. It was simple but sophisticated and reminded me of something my sister would love to wear—if Capalons wore dresses.

  Most of the girls in the dressing room buzzed about the princes being in attendance for dinner that night, but the two girls closest to me never mentioned the word ‘prince’ once.

  Genevieve bragged about some plumbing problem Robert helped her father solve for a big client of his. I expected Layla to jump in and make a smart comment multiple times during Genevieve’s story but she stayed silent. Layla finished her hair and make-up early, then disappeared, only to return for our line-up in the hallway.

  “Layla’s acting weird,” I said to Reese. “What did you do to her?”

  “Nothing! Last time I saw her I was with you.”

  “You better be telling the truth,” I whispered as we entered the ballroom. Agnes handed out our assigned table numbers on small square cards and after the Social Hour, I made my way to the front of the ballroom to a table that sat directly in front of the stage below the head table.

  A jolt of nerves coursed through my body.

  What if somebody in the Royal Family recognized me?

  “Paris, I need you to switch seats with me.” I turned to see Layla staring at me with red-rimmed eyes.

  “I thought we weren’t allowed to switch seats.”

  “I know, I know, but I just…well, the Mansion event planner told me to switch with you.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, she didn’t tell me why but here’s my table number, now give me yours.”

  I hesitated but the urgency behind Layla’s eyes moved my hand. She took the card out of my fingers, then slipped past the people in front of me.

  I felt relieved as I neared the back of the ballroom to Layla’s table, but what was the Event Planner’s purpose for switching our seats? And who was the Mansion event planner, anyway? She wasn’t anyone we met on our tour and anytime she was mentioned, she was only referred to as ‘the Mansion event planner.’

  The Chancellor’s voice boomed through a microphone. “Please rise for the Royal Family.”

  Already standing, I turned to face the stage. The Royal Family took their positions behind their chairs—Queen Marisol, Prince Corbin and Prince Taran. The queen wore a navy gown, covered in glittering crystals and a sparkling tiara sat atop her dark head of hair. Both princes wore the same navy tuxedos with silver ties and shared the same golden hair as their father but that’s where their similarities ended. Prince Corbin held a smirk as if he found the event to be comical and stood with a lazy stance and untamed hair. Taran was about a head shorter than his older brother and tilted his chin up, mimicking his mother’s stern features.

  Three knocks pounded against the ballroom doors to begin the drummers’ cadence. The drummers separated into their two even lines, then one drummer dropped into a roll as the king entered the ballroom. My eyes should have been focused on the king but they drifted to the soloist. I had been listening to Ari play his solo for the past couple of weeks but my heart fluttered as if each performance was his debut.

  The remainder of the evening was boring, to say the least. Not one, but two guests dozed off at my table and the only thing keeping me awake was that Ari sat within my line of sight. A couple times, he’d turn his head, meet my eyes, smile, then return his focus back to the king. It was quick, but it was enough to send enough electricity to my brain to stay alert.

  When the show was over, I planned to talk to Layla about the elusive event planner, but when I returned to my chair in the dressing room, I found another lavender rose. Not taking the time to read the message, I stuffed the rose in my bag and changed out of my dress. Unable to wait till I got to my room, I pulled the rose out of my bag and read it in the Administrative Wing.

  You’ll soon see how big my love for you truly is.

  “What are you doing with the Queen of Capalon?”

  Unable to breathe or speak, I turned my head.

  A young woman with frizzy hair stared up at me as she fumbled with a key ring in one hand and clutched a clipboard in another. She tilted her head to my flower. “The lavender rose. One of the first queens—I can’t remember who—hated lavender roses and nicknamed them the Queen of Capalon. Sometimes we still get a few that pop up in our greenhouse.”

  “Queen of Capalon,” I said through a raspy whisper. I gathered my composure and cleared my throat. “Are you the Mansion Event Planner?”

  She nodded and tucked the clipboard under her armpit so we could shake hands. “Scarlet Koon. I’ve been asking Bernie for years to be added to your training day tour, but he sees no value in it.”

  Instead of introducing myself back, I asked a question. “Why did you make Layla Tanvi switch seats with me at dinner tonight?”

  She crinkled her brows. “I didn’t switch any seats at this dinner.”

  “Oh.”

  She clicked a pen and pulled up her clipboard. “What was the girl’s name? Court members aren’t allowed to make seat changes on their own. Everything has to go through me.”

  “Never mind. Nice to meet you.”

  I left with gratitude for having learned two things—that Layla lied to me about switching seats and my mother signed her name with a rose.

  I was right again—my mother had a plan.

  But her message delivered uneasiness as opposed to relief—that ‘soon I would see how big her love for me truly was.’ How big was the thing she was planning? Was she going to overthrow Mondaria? Did she intend to hurt people in the process with a rebel uprising or would she carry out her plan peacefully? And why couldn’t she just talk to me about it? Why all the notes? Was she being held against her will? My head spun with all the unanswered questions, but my mind eased when I remembered Ari’s campfire party.

  I saw Darden on the way through the Lounge. “Hey, are you coming out to Ari’s party?”

  “No, ma’am. I have work to do.” He held up his notebook and exited the Lounge.

  I headed to a large orange flame burning in the center of the dormitory lawn. Without the heat from the bonfire, there was no way I would have agreed to stay outside. Heather, Genevieve, Reese and Staci sat on logs around the fire while Ari stood.

  “You made it,” he said with a smile. “Just in time for me to give you the official food of a Badger River campfire party—a marshmallow.”

  He handed me a stick with something white and round at the end of it. Ari placed his hand on top of mine, directing my stick awa
y from the flame itself and closer to the glowing embers where it browned from the heat.

  I didn’t want to leave his touch, but I felt Heather’s eyes upon us. “Heather, have you had a marshmallow yet? Ari can show you how it’s done.”

  I retrieved the gooey ball of fluff and stuffed it into my mouth, savoring the melting sugar over my tongue. Ari helped Heather with her marshmallow and I waited to see his hand guide hers as he did with mine, but he kept a distance between them.

  Reese called me over to sing with him and our audience applauded after each one. At the end of a song about being lazy on a rainy day, I followed Reese’s eyes to see Layla.

  A sweatshirt covered the top of her dress from the dinner and she clenched her fists. “Oh, I made it just in time for your crappy music,” she said, staring at Reese.

  “Don’t listen to her, Reese,” Genevieve said. “Your music is great.”

  Layla’s lips tightened into a thin line. “You’re right. That’s a wonderful song. Should get you at least ten pairs of panties.”

  Layla’s sarcasm wasn’t lost on any of us.

  “Cut the crap,” snapped Genevieve. “Reese is a talented songwriter.”

  “No, he’s a lazy songwriter.” She focused on Reese. “Want to know why your music sucks? Beautiful music or real art is created from emotion—raw pain, intense desire, devastating loss…you sing and it’s like wrapping a wet blanket around our ears.”

  “Layla, stop,” I said, sending her a warning glare.

  “No, she’s right,” Reese said. “Here’s a song filled with lots of emotion…” Reese strummed some violent chords and sang choice words directed at Layla.

  She straightened her neck, but I noticed a twitch in her bottom lip. She turned and left the campfire. The others laughed at Reese’s song but I shot him a disappointed look before chasing down Layla. I followed her to the rehearsal studios, where she picked an available piano.