by Karin Biggs
I sighed. “But if he doesn’t kick me out, I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Normal time, normal place. You should get some sleep before your favorite day of the year tomorrow.” I smiled, but the gesture was not reciprocated.
Ari reached for my hand. “So, if I don’t see you in the morning, this is it?”
I nodded and tried to memorize the feel of his fingers against my skin—rough in some spots, but soft everywhere else.
“Paris, I—”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Ari.” I squeezed his hand and took off for Maestro’s office.
I knocked on the maestro’s door.
He invited me to sit, then turned around and locked the door.
“What are you doing?” I asked, wishing I hadn’t wasted my vial of pepper spray on Darden.
“Just want to have a private conversation without interruption.” He sat down at the piano and poured his alcohol into a glass. “You’re stronger than I thought you were, Miss Marigold. That rehearsal would have sent any of those other girls home in tears. But not you. You’re special.”
My skin crawled at the sound of the word ‘special’ from his mouth.
“Would you like a glass?” he asked, showing off the bottle of alcohol.
I shook my head.
He lifted the glass to his lips and smiled as he sat it down. “That’s right,” he said with a nod. “Capalons don’t drink. Wouldn’t want to damage your precious minds.”
Blood drained from my head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I choked out. But my worst fear had been confirmed—the maestro knew my secret.
“Don’t lie to me now.” Maestro slid a framed photograph across the table—a photograph from the walls of the Records Room.
I looked down, expecting to see only my father’s face among the group of rulers and their spouses but I was shocked to see both my parents. They were so young, the picture was faded and of all the faces, only my mother’s mouth was turned up into an almost-smile as her hand rested on her pregnant belly. I never thought my mother and I resembled each other, but in the photo at her young age, we would be indistinguishable if my hair hadn’t been dyed brown. I assumed my father kept her away from the Assembly Meetings the entirety of their marriage, but he must have put an end to her attendance once my sister was born.
I shook my head in disbelief. Her face was so small among the rest of the group in the photo, there was no way Maestro would have been able to pick out our resemblance so easily.
“As I hear, Capalon is still being actively ruled by Queen Evelyn, so that makes you Princess Piper.”
I reached for Layla’s conversation-ending words. “Duck-off.”
But the maestro only roared with laughter. “You can’t even use our curse words properly! Oh, this is too much,” he said, wiping his eyes.
Breathe. Focus. Breathe.
Observe the facts.
“Your accusation is based on some facial resemblance. It hardly bears weight.” I kept my voice steady and refused to let my eyes linger on my mother’s face. “And how do you know so much about the enemy family? Perhaps you—”
But before I could react, Maestro clutched my wrist in his cold fingers and held a device above it. A small screen displayed a vivid-green outline of my veins and the square piece of tech that sat comfortably between them. “Shall I escort you out of the Mansion myself, Princess?”
I pulled my hand away as he chuckled. “I’d love to call the guards on you, I really would, but I’m in no mood to start a war or let Captain Murphy have his glory.” He sipped the last of his drink and leaned back in his chair. “Well, go,” he motioned with the back of his hand. “What are you waiting for?”
“No,” I said, wrapping my fingers around the seat of the chair. “I’m not leaving until you hand over my mother. I know she’s here.”
“Oh, Princess. Is that why you’re here?” He leaned his back against the wall and stretched his legs out on the piano bench. “So now I know what you want—you want your mother back.” He shook his head. “So tragic—you actually believe that we have your mother. I can assure you she’s dead. Mondarians are terrible at keeping secrets and if there was even a sliver of possibility that she was alive, I would have heard about it.”
“I don’t believe you. I have evidence to believe that—”
Maestro interrupted me with a long whistle. “I knew Capalons were wacky in the head but you’re screwier than I could have ever imagined. And you view us as the stupid ones?” He smiled, then poured himself another drink. “Princess, you know we’ve captured one of your citizens, right? You’re willing to let one of your own people be executed because of your delusion? I think that places you as the evil one.”
I thought of commands for Chip, but what good could he do? If anything, using Chip would make matters worse. My mother’s eyes looked up at me from the faded picture as if she was trying to offer her help.
Think, Piper, think.
“You’re not moving.” He reached for the phone and sighed. “I guess the captain will finally have his day.”
If only I knew the identity of his secret lady. I looked at the maestro and at the picture from the Records Room…. The Records Room. The only people who had access were guards and Royalty. It was only a hypothesis without any concrete evidence but I had no other options to support my case. “You and the queen,” I spat out. “I know about your secret affair. I even have audio evidence.” I lied with conviction and raised my wrist with a balled fist. “I could start my own war between you and the king. Everyone can be replaced—even maestros.”
He smiled and placed the phone back on its dock.
Adrenaline coursed through my veins at the shock of my confirmed accusation.
“So, we have damning secrets on each other? What an interesting turn of events.” Maestro sat up and leaned an elbow on the ledge of the piano. “At least in my situation, the other party knows who I am. In your case, you’ve brought other people onto the game board with you. And one day when you get caught by Captain Murphy, you won’t be the only one to lose.” He slid me the framed photo. “Do what you wish with it. I just wouldn’t recommend hanging it up in the Hall of Memories.”
I grabbed the photo and headed to the door, then stopped. “I want Darden’s notebook back too.”
The maestro pretended to choke on his alcohol. “Whozit’s whatsitz? I don’t give a damn about Mr. McCray’s personal diary. Oh, unless he has a magic trick that makes Capalons disappear.”
If the maestro didn’t have Darden’s notebook, then who did? I opened the door.
“Oh, and Miss Marigold?”
I paused, not giving him the courtesy of eye contact.
“Don’t even think about mentioning my situation to anyone else.”
I squeezed the door handle. “Or what? You’ll kill me, Maestro?”
He chuckled. “Like I said, I’m in no mood to start a war.” I heard him take a sip and slam his glass on top of his piano. “But I will kill Ari Novak.”
My head snapped to see his face curl up into a wicked grin. “Merry Christmas, Miss Marigold!”
My head ached, but I pulled myself out of bed to meet Ari. I found him standing in front of a roaring fire, wearing a red and green flannel shirt and a red hat with a white ball on its tail. “Merry Christmas, Paris.” He handed me a gold and green paper box.
I opened it to see a small moose carved out of wood.
“Since we could never find the mystery moose on the lawn, I thought I’d make you one.”
I ran my thumb over the smooth antlers of the moose and inhaled the scent of the soft pine. “Ari, I love it. I’m so sorry, I didn’t get you anything.”
“That’s okay, Maestro gave me the best gift by not kicking you out.”
My cheeks flushed, but I didn’t jerk my head to hide them. Instead, I looked up into Ari’s eyes, wishing he could feel the gratitude pouring from my heart.
“And I have one more gift for you but you have to follow m
e.” Ari bent his arm like a proper court man and after tucking the moose safely inside my pajama pants pocket, I accepted his escort like a proper court lady. We left the Lounge and walked down the hallway toward the Stardust Ballroom.
Ari held his hands over my eyes before we stepped through the doorway. When he removed his hands, I opened my eyes to see the ballroom had been transformed into what I would call the very essence of Christmas—large garlands strung across the tall arched ceilings, ornamental evergreens lined the walls and the most striking sight were the lights—thousands of small lights gave the ballroom a soft glow in the absence of the powerful luminescence of the chandeliers. “It’s beautiful,” I managed to say in a whisper.
“The staff finished setting it up last night, and I wanted you to see it before it was full of people. Come on.” He held my hand and walked me through the ballroom until we were in the center of the dance floor where all the garlands met under a centerpiece of pearl berries and flat green leaves.
Mistletoe. The kissing plant.
My heart leapt into my throat. “This is all so amazing, but don’t you think we should leave? We’ll probably get in trouble again.”
“Nah, we’ve got to take advantage of this empty ballroom for just a minute longer.” Then he cleared his throat, straightened his back and bowed. “Hello miss, my name is Ari Novak.”
I curtsied, playing into our standard dance routine. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Novak. My name is Paris Marigold.”
“Miss Marigold, may I have this dance?” Ari held out his hand and after a beat, I accepted.
He led us in the Mondarian Waltz. “Pretend that instead of court members, we’re guests of the king. You’re wearing a multicolored ball gown and I’m wearing…a red and black flannel tuxedo.”
I wrinkled my nose.
“Awesome, right? We’re enjoying the king’s free food and drinking his wine but not too much wine, of course. I’d like to remember this dance.”
Our quick waltz eventually slowed to a gentle sway, bringing our bodies closer together. The warmth of his hand in mine, his scent lingering in front of me and the softness of his flannel shirt under my fingers sent me to a place between a dream and a deep sleep. I rested my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes as I wrapped both hands behind his neck. He mirrored his other hand on my waist so we held each other in a moving embrace.
I felt a thick rope tug a curtain open inside me, just enough to let flecks of gold light peek through the small space between the heavy fabric. The light was safe and warm, pulling me closer into Ari’s chest, his breathing matching mine. I didn’t want to be anywhere else or with anyone else—only in my friend’s arms, holding on to him like he was the most real, alive thing I had ever touched.
My friend.
My friend with soft black hair and brown eyes the color of truffles and butterscotch. I felt the curtain pull back just an inch more and suddenly the word ‘friend’ didn’t feel right—that there might be another word I wanted more intensely. That there just might be…more.
More than friends.
My eyes flashed open, catching a glimpse of one of the chandeliers, dull and massive, hiding behind a thick strand of twinkling garland. The other chandeliers hid in other dark spots of the ceiling. My eyes jumped from one to the other as my mind jumped from thought to thought.
What if we weren’t just dancing? What if all the nice gestures Ari had been doing for me—the ice-skating rink, waiting for me at the clinic, the moose, the ballroom—hadn’t just been nice things he would do for any friend? What if…Ari had opened a curtain on his side of the stage as well?
“Ari?”
“Mmhm.” He moved his mouth closer to my neck, the heat of his breath warming my body in unreachable places.
I fought the urge to turn my head and position my mouth next to his and focused on a grey chandelier. “Why do you go out of your way to do nice things for me?”
Ari pulled me in closer, his lips brushing my ear. “I think you know why,” he whispered.
I tilted my head back just enough to look into his eyes. Beneath the swirls of brown and gold, I saw someone who saw something more in me than just a court lady or princess, only, he didn’t really know me. He only knew Paris Marigold.
I felt jealous of the fake girl Layla created on an application—the girl who glittered with the flip of a switch, but in the dark, her truth was as tangible as cold crystal.
Ari’s fingers brushed a strand of hair behind my ear, the sensation of his touch sending a tingle across my skin. I focused on his soft lips but the maestro’s words drove a knife through my heart—I had Ari on the game board with me.
I was Piper Parish, Princess of Capalon.
And Ari would always be a Mondarian.
Paris Marigold was the girl who had convinced a drummer she was worth caring for, not Piper Parish. Every ounce of my body wanted to taste Ari’s lips, but as much as I hated the maestro, his words rang true in my ears. As soon as Ari found out who I was, he would lose Paris Marigold and I would lose Ari.
Unless…
I licked my lips. “Ari, were you the one who gave me the note at the Harvest Ball?”
Ari’s eyes focused on mine as my fingers curled against the soft hairs on the back of his neck. I wanted him so badly to say ‘yes,’ that he had known all along and he didn’t care I was Capalon.
But his brows furrowed. “What note?”
Air caught in my throat as I reached for my last hope that Ari knew the truth. “And Darden’s notebook? Are you the one who has it?”
His eyes answered before he formed the words. “No, I didn’t even know he lost it.”
Splinters pierced my palms as I pulled the rope, closing the curtain and dampening the glow of the gold light. I stepped out of Ari’s embrace, the cold hitting me instantly and dissolving the warmth from his body. “I can’t…I can’t do this,” I forced out in a raspy whisper.
“I’m sorry, is there something I did to—”
“I like Reese.” My false words hung in the stale air of the massive ballroom, the sad chandeliers looking down on me in disappointment.
Shadows danced across Ari’s face as butter-yellow sun slowly poured in through the ballroom windows.
Before the tears fell and before I changed my mind, I spoke the most untrue sentence since stepping foot in Mondaria. “I’m sorry, Ari. I don’t have feelings for you…we’re just friends. Nothing more.”
I sprinted out of the ballroom, through the Lounge and up to my room, slamming the door shut behind me. I fell to the floor and sobbed into my hands.
Layla sat up from her bed. “Who was it? Maestro? Genevieve? I’ll kick her a—”
“No,” I said through a cry, “It was me. I did this to myself. Ari likes me. And I told him I like Reese.”
Layla jumped out of her bed and her arm wrapped around my shoulders.
“I can’t like Ari and he can’t like me because…because…”
“Because you’re Capalon?”
I stared into her hazel eyes. “You know?”
She shrugged. “Yeah, I searched through your stuff and found the Capalon currency like the first week we were here. Nobody in Mondaria has that. Paris, I tried to warn you to leave, but you stayed.”
“Wait, so you were the one you gave me the note at the Harvest Ball?”
She nodded.
“Why didn’t you just tell me to my face?”
She smiled. “We’re enemies, remember? I didn’t want you to know it was me in case you decided to slit my throat in the middle of the night.”
I sniffed. “What about the other notes—the ones with the roses?”
“I don’t know about those—I just did the one.”
“Do you have Darden’s notebook too?”
“No…why would I have that thing?”
I rubbed my temples. “Have you told anyone?”
She shook her head. “At the beginning, I left you lots of opportunities to steal from me or
turn me in for dumb stuff and you never jumped on it. So as long as you weren’t trying to do anything horrible to me personally, I was okay with it.” She sighed. “Honestly, I was kind of hoping you were here to do something to the king.”
“Why? He’s your king.”
Layla clenched her jaw. “He also doesn’t think I’m good enough for his son.”
“But—”
“Paris, I know where you’re from you haven’t seen all the things that love can do to a person. And maybe it’s better that way. But when you fall in love with someone and you’re rejected, it can nearly kill you.” She sighed. “I know your situation with Ari sucks, but I promise you, it could be a million times worse. I think you’re doing the right thing. It’s best for both of you that you just stay friends.” She raised her eyebrows. “And using Reese as your fake interest helps my case too. Who knows, maybe Reese will start liking you, so he can get over me.” Then she perked up. “And you already agreed to be his kissing partner for the New Year’s Eve Ball. From my experience, he’s definitely not a lousy kisser, so you might enjoy it. It’s like you’re solving all our problems with a kiss,” she said with a smile.
I shook my head. “I told you I don’t want to do it.”
“But you will. Because you love me. And…because you love Ari.” Layla rubbed my back as more forbidden tears fell. “You know you’re the coolest Capalon I’ve ever known?”
I laughed and wiped my eyes. “I’m the only Capalon you’ve ever known.”
“Oh, I forgot to tell you! I think your conspiracy theory about the maestro having a secret lover is true! The other day when he was working with me and Reese, I swear I saw lipstick on his collar. Who do you think it is?”
The maestro’s threat to kill Ari sent a wave of panic through me. “It’s no one. I was wrong. It was…one of the guards with an older court member, not the maestro.”
“But you said—”
“It was early in the season when I didn’t know him that well. So, let’s just drop it, okay?”
