by Violet Grace
I blink and I’m looking into Volgaris again. Sunlight streams straight through the now invisible floating castle down onto the island as if there is nothing separating the graveyard and the heavens. I blink again and Iridesca returns. Golden flags printed with black waves of a turbulent ocean fly from the top of the castle. People climb the castle staircases and walk across the adjoining bridges from one tower to another. They’re dressed in the same impractical style to which I’ve become accustomed in Iridesca: flowing gowns in silk, lace and velvet. Groups of guards clad in navy blue walk amongst them, along with a smattering of men wearing white suits with gold trim. Some of the people turn, pointing and waving to the airship. I instinctively wave back. The Chancellor clears his throat pointedly.
‘Not queenly?’ I say.
‘No, Your Majesty.’
I keep waving.
As our airship circles the island I relax my eyes again, and manage to go a bit cross-eyed so that the edges of Volgaris blend with Iridesca until they overlay each other completely. Both realms are present at once, the cemetery below and castle above it. My head spins.
The Chancellor chuckles. ‘It becomes easier with practice, my Queen.’
I sit down on the chaise longue and Abby retrieves a small vile filled with swamp-green liquid from the pocket of her floral gown.
‘You look awful,’ she says. ‘Drink this. I don’t want to see your breakfast.’
I look around the airship at other sickly faces. I’m not alone in struggling to adjust to the new reality of Serenissima.
‘Do you have any more?’ I say, taking the vial from Abby.
She shakes her head.
I pour out a capful of the potion and give the vial to Callie, whose face is as green as the potion.
‘It’s an order,’ I say pre-emptively, knowing she’ll refuse it.
Swallowing Abby’s potion is like biting into a raw chilli. I cough and splutter as it burns all the way down.
‘Are all your potions this awful or do you add the foul taste specially for me?’ I say, my eyes watering.
‘I make all your potions with care, Your Majesty,’ she smiles.
The Luminaress snaps her fingers to summon my maids. ‘We are descending. Fix her.’
Already feeling better from Abby’s potion, I stand. Callie’s looking a little less green as well. I stay still as a statue in my matte-gold gown as Brina and Callie get on with the apparently important business of state, reapplying my lip gloss and battling with wayward strands of hair.
Out the window, I make out hundreds of people standing around the edges of what looks like a helipad at the top of the castle. Dozens of trumpeters line the turrets of the castle. Reflected morning sun bounces off their instruments, which have miniature black and gold flags affixed to their ends. They burst into a rendition of the anthem of Albion as the airship comes to rest with a gentle thud.
The airship door is opened by the Protectorate and I’m hit by the aroma of brine and wisteria. I step down onto the ground of Serenissima, and there’s a flash of light. An explosion.
The humid air shudders.
The world turns white.
Power courses through me. My wings flare.
Jules is instantly by my side, ready for battle. Her Protectorate guards form a circle around us. Flags flap in the light sea breeze, banners rippling.
I look across to the official welcoming party, confusion on their faces as they exchange glances, searching for an explanation for our panic. Others turn their faces skywards, watching … doves?
My heart’s still pounding as the realisation dawns that the ‘explosion’ was nothing more than an enormous flock of doves being released as part of the welcome ceremony.
I look at Jules, who nods reassuringly and stands to attention, poised, as if nothing has happened. The rest of the Protectorate resume their places.
I look behind me in time to see the Chancellor emerge from hiding behind two of his entourage. Brushing his clothes and straightening his cravat, his eyes dart about, searching for someone to take responsibility for this embarrassment. He avoids looking at me. The Luminaress, meanwhile, purses her lips, her eyes ablaze in total mortification.
I feel like a bit of an idiot for overreacting, but I can’t help smiling at the whole episode. The look on the Chancellor’s face alone is priceless. My powers ebb to a steady background hum, and my wings retract into my body. I step forward onto a snow-white carpet scattered with blood-red rose petals.
‘Benvenuto, Queen Francesca of House Raven,’ a man in a navy uniform bellows, returning some kind of normalcy to proceedings. The crowd bows as one. Two figures remain standing in the distance. I recognise Crown Prince Victor Grigio from the portrait, and standing behind him is a man with curved shoulders and vacant eyes. It takes me a moment to realise it’s Victor’s father, Prince Salvatore. He’s a pale and frail version of the man in the portrait. I hope my mother isn’t counting on him to save her. There’s no sign of the Queen.
Prince Victor, by contrast, is as advertised: confident, and fully briefed on his own attractiveness. He strides towards me with the assurance of a stallion, looking me up and down as his white cape swishes in the light breeze. My own confidence evaporates under his appraisal.
‘Your beauty surpasses even your portrait, Queen Francesca,’ he says, taking my hand and pressing it to his lips.
‘Oh,’ is all I can think of to say in reply, as I snatch my hand back from his grasp a little faster than protocol would counsel. And then I follow up with ‘Thanks’. Except it comes out sounding like ‘Tha …’ as I realise that it’s a dumb thing to say and trail off. Still, it’s better than telling him to keep his freaking hands and lips to himself.
We follow a snaking path of large cobblestones, already radiating the heat of the morning sun. Jules stays close as we walk towards the castle. The path is lined by crowds four and five people deep, dressed in muted finery. I feel like a circus freak on parade, but the faces of the people melt into smiles as I pass. Others dip their heads, bowing. Their deference might be for Prince Victor, but they’re looking at me. I smile back.
Ahead, we’re swallowed by an enormous entranceway with heavy doors made of dark wood, reinforced with studded iron braces, set within a marble arch. The doors open into a great hall. Every inch of wall space inside is covered by frescos depicting fairies and unicorns in stylised battle scenes, or reclining in magical green groves. Above, the ceiling is … impossible. Clear sky. Clear blue sky. Which makes absolutely no sense. I could have sworn there was more castle there from the outside.
‘From every room in the castle you can see the sky above, even on the lower floors,’ says Victor, sensing my wonder. ‘At night you will fall asleep looking up at the stars, Bella.’
Bella? Is he hitting on me?
I search his face. He’s smiling. It’s a warm, innocent, welcoming smile.
‘Please,’ he says, his arm extended to usher me along a wide corridor furnished with fine rugs and a collection of sculptures that look like they belong in a national gallery. ‘You and I, we have much to discuss over the coming days. I am eager to begin our dialogue,’ he says as we wend our way down a sweeping staircase.
I search my brain for an appropriate response, something befitting a queen heading a diplomatic mission, but only manage to come up with, ‘Yes, um, me too.’
He’s turned businesslike, but there’s a playfulness in his manner, as though he does this every day of the week.
The southern wing of the castle has evidently been reserved for our party. All the members of the Order, along with their entourages, are shown to rooms on the first floor. The entire second and third floors are a private apartment for me, along with Jules, Abby, Brina and Callie. I’m guessing the rest of the Protectorate is bunking in with the Grigio guards.
We stop at an ornate door. ‘I personally oversaw the preparation of your quarters, Bella. For now, I will leave you to rest and make yourself comfortable before we banque
t.’
He gives a shallow bow, turns and walks away.
‘All clear, Your Majesty,’ Jules says, greeting me at the door after she and her officers have completed their security sweep of the apartment.
We file into a grand foyer with a high ceiling and twinkling chandelier. Abby makes herself at home, proceeding through the double doors to the lounge area and slumping onto a couch. There’s a dining room to my right and a library to my left, as well as a few other rooms for goodness knows what.
An elderly woman emerges from the dining room. She gives a deep bow and introduces herself simply as Mama.
‘I look after you,’ she says. ‘Anything you want, you ask Mama.’ She points to the staircase that forks at a landing on the top floor and curves down to either side of the foyer. ‘Up there for sleeping,’ she says.
The view of the main island of Serenissima on the other side of the lagoon pulls me to the arched window. Moored gondolas and fishing boats bob happily along the wooden dock. Beyond lies a massive cathedral with five gothic domes.
‘Basilica di San Marco,’ says Mama from behind me. ‘Home for our spirit.’
‘It’s stunning,’ I say.
‘A place of truth,’ Mama says with misty-eyed intensity.
There’s a knock at the door. Jules moves into position, putting herself between me and any potential threat as Mama opens the door. I appreciate Jules’s vigilance even though I suspect the biggest risk I face here is dooming our alliance with the good people of Serenissima with too many faux pas.
A maid dressed in navy blue hands Mama a small silver box and says something in Italian.
‘The welcome banquet, it is soon,’ Mama announces. She thrusts the silver box towards me without any sense of ceremony. The box is trimmed with a daisy chain where you’d expect a ribbon. ‘A gift,’ she says. ‘Prince Victor.’
‘For me?’ Abby exclaims, suddenly roused from the couch. ‘He shouldn’t have!’
I carefully remove the daisies and open the silver box to reveal an oval pendant on a thick gold chain twisted like rope. The pendant is silky to the touch, a cloudy translucent green, like a piece of bottle glass that’s been left in the ocean, worn smooth by the sea. But it’s surprisingly heavy, a giveaway that it’s more precious than glass.
For the most beautiful jewel in Serenissima, reads the handwritten note.
Callie sighs and fans her face from the top of the stairs. ‘He is wonderful.’
Her reaction to the gift sparks a wave of nausea in me. But I calm myself down. Maybe rich people give each other expensive jewellery and cheesy, over-familiar notes all the time.
Abby inspects the necklace. ‘Looks like a noose to me.’
‘Would you like to wear it to the lunch banquet, Chess?’ Callie asks stiffly, my name coming out sounding like a hard-to-pronounce word from an unfamiliar language. I’ve just managed to get Callie to drop my official title, but Brina flat-out refuses to break protocol, no matter how often I request it.
‘It would complement your dress, Your Majesty,’ Brina adds.
‘No,’ I say, placing the box on the table. ‘We’ll go with the planned wardrobe.’
After dressing quickly, I swish towards the banquet hall for lunch and my formal introduction to the Grigio court. The Chancellor is dressed in Albion tartan. The Luminaress and other members of the Order are all wearing a combination of red and green in the exact shades of the tartan. My gown is ruby red with tartan trim.
I spy Victor standing with his father at the entrance doors. At first glance, he projects ease and confidence in a classic white dinner suit with gold trim. But his tensed shoulders and rigid jaw give him away. Perhaps he hates these formal occasions as much as I do.
His eyes dart through the crowd and settle on me as I make my way down the hall. I feel really noticed, as if he’s observing every detail about me. The thought of screwing up at the banquet is giving me the jitters. I slow my breath and remind myself why I’m here: to prove myself to the Order, but mostly for my mother. I just wish I knew why she wanted me to come here.
A master of ceremonies stamps a heavy golden staff on the floor and booms, ‘The Chancellor and the Luminaress of Albion.’ Without breaking stride, the Chancellor and the Luminaress walk into the hall.
‘You did not like my gift?’ Victor asks as I approach. ‘I took great care to select that precious piece for you myself.’
I touch the ruby pendant dangling from my throat as other guests from both houses arrive and are announced by the master of ceremonies. I could be wrong, but he almost looks hurt.
‘I …’ I begin, trying to formulate a reply that will save his feelings. I can’t risk getting him offside before I find out if he’s the Grigio who can help my mother. I’m saved by the master of ceremonies announcing our entrance.
‘Be upstanding for Crown Prince Victor of House Grigio and Queen Francesca of House Raven.’
The room shuffles to its collective feet and Victor extends his hand for me to hold. Still thrown by the potential offence I caused with the necklace situation, I take a deep breath, smile obligingly and take his hand. The crowd lowers into bows and curtsies as we enter.
My skin prickles and my jaw clenches behind my practised smile as two hundred pairs of eyes steal glimpses of me. I’m used to people gawking at me, but this time it feels different. I’m not a leader or a saviour, or even a failure. I get the distinct feeling that I’m a doll.
Slowly we make our way past two tables stretching the length of the room, decorated with white tablecloths and flickering with candelabras. I silently groan when I count seven pieces of cutlery lined up in each place setting. That’s an awful lot of courses – and a marathon of small talk.
Another, smaller, table sits at the front of the hall on a podium. A tiny woman is collapsed into a tall chair at the head of the table. Her skeletal hands rest on the curved arms of the chair, each finger adorned with a jewelled ring. Two women in plain white dresses hover nearby. Nurses, I imagine.
Queen Eleanora.
She may not have the strength to make a formal entrance, but I love that she still bothers with the rocks. It’s like an act of defiance, a refusal to surrender to illness.
I try to remember everything I read or was told about her. She also became Queen at sixteen but, unlike me, hasn’t put a foot wrong since and everyone seems to love her. At least, that’s the official story. She married Salvatore the year after her coronation and gave birth to Victor two years after that. She’s reigned over a long period of peace between humans and Fae, and she’s managed to triple House Grigio’s wealth in her spare time.
As Victor and I reach the front of the hall he bows to his mother and then turns to face his people. I follow his lead.
‘Rise,’ he commands his still-bowing subjects. ‘Today we honour my mother, Queen Eleonora. And we celebrate the blessing that Queen Eleonora has bestowed on Queen Francesca. The Royal House Raven is to unite with the Royal House Grigio.’
What? If the alliance is a done deal, then what’s left to discuss? And why did the Chancellor want me to come?
As the crowd’s thunderous applause echoes off the high domed ceiling, I look over my shoulder to the Chancellor, who’s clapping too, his face bulging with smug self-congratulations. We make eye contact and, as subtly as I can, I give him a questioning look. If he notices, he ignores it, smiling at me approvingly. So much for the Order giving me the chance to lead and prove myself. I feel like I’ve walked onto a stage where everyone except me has read the script.
Victor and I take our seats at the high table. I sit between Victor and his mother. Queen Eleanora smiles at me, placing her hand gently on mine as a sign of welcome. I return the smile, hoping that she doesn’t fall off her perch before I find the right time to raise the subject of my mother.
Salvatore is seated next to Victor. The Chancellor and the Luminaress are at the very end of the high table, too far for me to ask about what exactly has been agreed to in my name.
And with the eyes of the room watching, I can hardly walk over and ask for an explanation.
Victor smiles at me, the perfect mix of confidence and charm, and it’s obvious that his people love him for it. I bet he’s never been ambushed by his advisers the way I just have. He wouldn’t stand for it. I tentatively smile back. Maybe I can learn something from him about commanding authority and respect.
Polite murmurs settle over the hall as food is served. I take the opportunity to quiz Victor.
‘This alliance of our houses,’ I say casually. ‘Has everything already been decided to your satisfaction, or are there still some details that we should discuss?’
‘Well,’ he begins slowly, starting to smile at me, as though I’m teasing. ‘The formalities are to come and, of course, there will be a ceremony at a time of your choosing. I assume your chancellor has briefed you on the conventions, no?’
‘Of course,’ I say. ‘Obviously there will be a ceremony. But what I mean is, before we get to that, we need to discuss how our two houses are to work together. What does it mean for our people?’
‘We need not trouble ourselves with detail. This is a time for —’.
‘I like detail.’
‘As do I, Your Majesty,’ Victor’s father interjects, his face brightening for the first time.
Salvatore leans towards me. ‘We have our own museum across the lagoon that you may wish to see, Your Majesty. It houses many of our precious historical artefacts, even an original leaf from the Veritas.’
‘Veritas?’
‘The book of truth.’ Salvatore’s dull eyes begin to sparkle. ‘The most precious book of all time. It contains every secret worth knowing.’
‘Every secret?’ I say lightly. ‘So there are no unsolved mysteries in Serenissima?’
Victor chuckles. ‘If only that were the case. Veritas is written in code that cannot be broken.’
‘It will be broken,’ Salvatore says with certainty. ‘One day, when we are ready and worthy of possessing such knowledge. It will be my pleasure to show you the leaf from Veritas this very afternoon, if it pleases you,’ Salvatore says.
