Frustrated, Aiva hung her head, dragging her feet along the floor beside her brother. There was no use arguing with him. Once Edric had made up his mind, there was no changing it. Even if she took this information to her parents, Edric would defend Callum. It would be her word against his, and given her behavior as of late, his statement would be taken as truth. There was nothing to be done other than accept that fact. She needed evidence to expose Callum. Once she found it, everyone would realize that they had been played for fools.
Chapter Five
The Queen fussed about the room in preparation for the day ahead, checking every jewelry box throughout the quarters to make sure that each diamond and gem was properly accounted for. Shaelyn stood behind Aiva at the vanity, arranging her sister’s hair in tightened ebon curls which spilled down over her back and shoulders to frame the elegant features of her face. In her reflection Aiva could see the sadness in her own eyes. While the rest of her family anxiously made the final touches to the wedding plans, she was despondent. Hopeless. Miserable on the day that was supposed to be the happiest in her life.
Strands of diamonds hung around her neck in exquisite gold-lined rows splayed out over her collarbone. The sleeves of her dress draped gracefully low off her shoulders, thin sheer layers of silken fabric gathered at the elbows to flow outward in a dramatic bell-shape, lengthened to hang nearly to the floor. Her bodice cinched tightly around her already slender form to create an image of perfection. Only the finest material had been used on her dress, shimmering white along the bodice, lined by golden flowers at the elegant neckline, interspersed with dangling pearls. The folds of her skirt were full and wide, the top layer gathered to drape at an angle, revealing the shimmering fabric underneath. A wide train arched out behind her in a majestic display of white, golden trim edging the hemline. Never had she felt so beautiful and tragic at the same time.
Coming to stand at Aiva’s side, her mother lowered a golden crown onto her head, the attached veil hanging in front of Aiva’s doleful blue eyes, extra folds tumbling down her back. She felt prepared for her funeral. At least with the veil, it would be easier to conceal her pensiveness from the guests at the ceremony. Her grandmother, the Queen Vorsila, would be in attendance. Overjoyed to see her granddaughter married. If she caught sight of Aiva’s grief, there would be no end to the lecture. This was her duty. Her responsibility as the heir. She did this for her people. A Queen had to make sacrifices. The gods knew Vorsila had made more than most rulers in the past.
“You look beautiful,” Shaelyn whispered, tears glittering in the corners of her eyes. “I hope I am half as lovely on my wedding day.”
“You will be twice so,” Aiva forced a somber smile at her sister. The beauty Shaelyn would possess on her special day would be magnified by the honesty in the smile she would bear. Shaelyn loved Herryk. That alone would make her the most beautiful bride to ever grace the aisle.
Aiva accepted her mother’s hand, rising to her feet in a wash of sparkling diamonds and silk. “It is about time,” Leyna smiled, wiping a tear from her pale cheek. “I knew this day would come, but somehow I thought it would be easier.”
“Do not cry, Mother. Try to remember – this is a happy occasion.” Inside she laughed miserably at her own assurances. How could she convince anyone else to feel joy when she herself felt so trapped? Never before had the spacious rooms of the Escovul palace felt more confining. It was newer than their home in Sivaeria. Built during the first few years following the victory over Arcastus and his Ven’shal army. When she was a child, it had been a place of relaxation. A vacation from the hustle and bustle of the courtiers ever present inside the walls of their home. Only on rare occasions were guests permitted into the new palace. It was reserved for events of grandeur. Royal or high-stationed weddings. Celebrations of birth. Accomplishment. The last time Aiva had been inside the palace herself had been at Shaelyn’s twenty-fifth birthday. Only several months had passed, yet it felt like years to Aiva’s mind after the events of recent weeks. She and Callum would spend their bridal evening there.
“Come, Aiva. Your father will be waiting for you.” Leyna lightly wove her arm through Aiva’s, her steps slow and cautious as they made their way toward the door, afraid of stepping on the flowing skirts of Aiva’s gown. Shaelyn lagged behind, delicately holding the train out to keep it from catching as they moved into the hall. The distance felt eternal between her dressing room and the grand arched doors of the chapel at the center of the palace. At their approach, the room fell silent. All the faces of their guests staring at Aiva in wonder and awe.
They paused at the entrance, allowing Aiva a chance to take in her surroundings. At the front of the aisle she could see Callum. His expression was unreadable. He no doubt felt a similar unease to that which had plagued Aiva throughout the morning. Despite it all, he looked handsome. Not that she’d ever seen him look anything less. His doublet matched her gown in silks of white and gold; the diamonds inset on the buttons in double lines on either side of the breast sparkling in the light of the chandeliers. Edric was at his side, a look of pride on his face to see his sister come into view. Next to him Aiva couldn’t help but smile to see her younger brother and sister, looking like miniature dolls in their expensive clothes. Little Sidonie was the perfect image of innocence beside her twin, Prince Ehren, named in memory of the King’s eldest brother, as well as Queen Vorsila’s late husband.
King Thade was at Aiva’s side, accepting her other arm to walk alongside her and her mother down the aisle. Musicians played some soft melody on their strings, the harp gentle and soothing. Her father swelled with pride, leaning his head to whisper quietly in her ear. “You remind me of your mother on our wedding day.”
A piece of her heart died inside at his words. She didn’t want to be compared to her mother at a time like this. The marriage of her parents had been the joy of several generations in Tanispa, a rejuvenation of faith after a long and trying time of war and sadness. This could never be anything so grand. To place them side by side seemed to tarnish everything her parents’ union had stood for. They had been heroes. She, on the other hand, was marrying a traitor.
It was all she could do to keep from retching as her hand was passed over to Callum. Through her grief she heard nothing spoken by her mother and father, their blessing of the marriage falling on deaf ears. Aiva went through the motions as rehearsed. There was no happiness behind her actions. She couldn’t bring herself to meet Callum’s gaze, dreading every second of the time she was forced to hold his hand in front of the crowd; exchanging the matching rings they would both wear, bearing the Levadis crest upon them. A symbol of their status among the Vor’shai. Practically every eye in Tanispa was on them, smiles brightening their faces to see the future King and Queen. She wanted to scream. No woman should ever be forced to endure such torment.
She thought she would be sick when the time came for Callum to lift her veil. Her stomach churned and wrenched, leaving her feeling ill. Callum’s pained expression deepened at the sight of her. Out of formality he leaned in when directed by the priest. They were to seal the bond with a kiss. Aiva couldn’t stand the thought of it. At the last moment she twisted her head somewhat to one side, away from the crowd to avoid detection of her slight, Callum’s lips meeting with the soft skin of her cheek. When would the torture end? Why couldn’t the priest simply pronounce them wed and let them be on their way? The ceremony had been hard enough and there remained the reception yet between her and an escape from the public humiliation.
Removing her hand from his, Aiva walked stiffly at Callum’s side as they made their way back down the aisle toward the door. She’d survived the worst of the display. If she could just get through the dinner and at least one dance as husband and wife, she would be able to then seek some solace away from his company.
In the hallway alone, Callum gazed at her, eyes dimmed, forlorn. “Aiva…”
She turned away before the name had finished forming on his lips. There was
nothing he could say which interested her. If he never spoke a word for the rest of the evening, she would be forever grateful. Besides, she didn’t need him on her arm to find her way to the ballroom. It was her palace, after all. There was no need for a grand parade into every room they entered.
Aiva held the fabric of her skirts high to avoid tripping over the heavy folds, making her way into the empty ballroom. The royal table was arranged at the front, two velvet-lined chairs of mahogany and golden trim situated at the center, their high-backed design denoting the status of those who would sit in them. On any other occasion they would be reserved for the King and Queen. Tonight would be her turn in the spotlight. She’d always envisioned it so differently.
In a graceless display she plopped down in her seat, angrily arranging the yards of fabric around her under the table to avoid anyone stumbling over them. Her stomach rumbled with hunger though she was determined not to eat. The laces on her corset were too tight. Her disgust toward the man now settling himself in the chair beside her was enough to ruin what was left of her appetite anyhow.
A procession of guests began to slowly filter in, filling the lines of tables. When the King and Queen had taken their seats, servants began to bring in the meal, placing dishes of every food imaginable in front of Aiva, tempting her with their fragrant smells while not enough to convince her to consume any of it. A plate was fixed for her, though she paid it little attention. It was nothing but a distraction for her when she found herself bored at watching the other guests. Twirling her fork in her potatoes, she stared at it. Absent. Vaguely aware of Callum’s plate sitting in a similar state, though he made no attempt to even lift his utensils. When the plates were cleared away, Callum’s food remained untouched. Cold.
They were nearly done with the worst of the night. To her relief, there had been few attempts at further conversation by Callum. She’d made it very clear to him that she had no desire to speak. There was nothing to be said. Whenever he started to open his mouth, she deterred him by leaning over to her mother, speaking loudly of mundane topics. The weather. The dresses of the other ladies present. He didn’t know enough about fashion to join in on their idle chatter.
Aiva could see the musicians setting up in preparation for the dance. Their first as husband and wife, and only, if Aiva had her way. A routine requiring the participation of everyone in attendance would have been her preference. But the custom called for a more personal dance. More romantic. How anyone could expect romance from an arrangement like theirs, however, made no sense to Aiva.
Callum rose to his feet, stiff, tense. His hands moved to slide Aiva’s chair out away from the table to assist her in standing. A polite gesture. Gallant. Aiva remained motionless, standing only when his grip released. It was time. She saw it as a perfect opportunity to let him see that once they parted ways, she had no desire to have him anywhere near her for the rest of the night. He would have no choice but to respect her wishes. She was the Princess. He would do what she said.
Everyone applauded at their approach. Rigid, Aiva took her place, frame locked to Callum’s in preparation for the music to start. It was a relief when the gentle song began to fill the air. Although she hated the thought of the dance, once it had begun, it was only a matter of time before it would end. Occasionally she could see Callum’s lips part as if to speak, thinking better of it, and remaining in silence.
Inside Aiva could feel her questions begin to bubble up. All the things she’d wanted to confront him about since her conversation with Dacian in the courtyard. Edric had said something of asking Callum his side of the story. While the middle of the dance floor wasn’t the most private of places, it felt the best time to address the matter. He couldn’t walk away from her. And to the watchful eyes around, it would appear as nothing more than conversation between the bride and groom. She waited for him to pull her back in from a graceful turn, resetting his hand at her waist, lightly. Hesitant to hold her too close.
Just as she started to open her mouth, Callum’s voice cut her off, distracting her from her thoughts. “You look beautiful.”
“It is not for you,” she replied coolly. “I would have preferred to wear a feed sack in silent protest, but my mother would not allow it.”
“I believe you would have made even a feed sack look stunning.”
“I do not welcome compliments from scoundrels. Keep them to yourself.” Aiva struggled to hide the disdain on her face, grimacing through a smile for the sake of the spectators.
Callum fell silent once again, hushed by the insult. They continued the dance wordlessly for several beats before he attempted to speak again. “I have been wanting to speak with you since the engagement party.”
“Yes, I have had some questions for you since that day as well.”
“Oh… Whenever I came to call, I was told you were not well and not accepting visitors. You have had questions?”
“Many,” Aiva nodded, pursing her lips. She allowed herself to be spun outward once again, inhaling sharply upon feeling Callum’s hand return to her waist. “Some distressing news reached me regarding your supposed heroics in Siscal. A question has been weighing heavily on my heart.”
“I will answer anything you require.”
“An Esai spy.” She watched his face for a reaction to her inquiry. A slight tension in his muscles indicated discomfort, though of what, she couldn’t be certain. “Is it true that you had some involvement with her?”
“Aiva, this is not the place – ”
“You will answer or I will assume your guilt.”
Callum came to an abrupt halt. The musicians fumbled over their instruments, unsure of whether to continue. Murmurs erupted through the crowd at their sudden distraction. “You want me to be honest?’
“Of course. I think we have drowned ourselves in enough lies since your return.”
“Fine,” he stated, his voice faltering. Uneasy by the crowd around them, he released his hold on Aiva, staring at her solemnly. “Ireni and I were close, yes. More so than I am proud to admit. She was a good fighter and I found myself attracted to her. She shared the same feelings for me, and we did have occasion to let our emotions be known.”
Aiva felt her entire body shut down. She didn’t want to believe what was being said. Some part of her had held onto the hope that Callum would deny it all. That Edric would have been right and Dacian was only stirring up trouble. A confession was unexpected. She took no satisfaction in it the way she thought she would. “So it is true? You were involved with the enemy?”
“Yes.” Callum looked mortified. Redness flushed into his cheeks, burning at the tips of his ears. “I wish I’d had a chance to explain. It’s complicated and I fear it reached you in an unfavorable way.”
“Unfavorable? Unfavorable!” she gasped. “Is there a favorable way to say that you were in bed with the enemy?”
His shoulders fell, the crimson hue of his face deepening. “I suppose not…”
Body trembling, Aiva pressed her hand to her forehead. She felt faint. She was sure to create a scene if she didn’t get away from this mess before she lost consciousness. Clutching at her tightly cinched bodice, she ran from the dance floor, paying no mind to the gasps and soft cries of the guests in their confusion.
It was true. Dacian hadn’t been making it up. What would her parents say? What would Edric say? He’d been so defensive! She’d been kind enough to give Callum a chance to clear his name and he’d been unable to do so. Bursting into the hallway she tried to catch her breath, unable to inhale enough air to ease her burning lungs. This wasn’t happening. How could her parents have married her to a traitor? A no good miscreant!
She needed to get away. Her parents would no doubt be concerned by her sudden departure. Her entire family would come looking for her. And Calie. What would Calie think? And the General?
There was no time to consider the possibilities. She had to find her way to an exit. It was a large palace. Plenty of places for her to escape and hide unti
l her head was clear enough to consider what her options were. Picking up her skirts, she hurried toward the front doors. Concealment would be easier in the darkened landscape. It was unfortunate that her garments were so white. Far too noticeable. It didn’t matter. She would figure something out.
Stepping into the cool breeze of the coming night, Aiva scanned the area desperately for a place to hide. A commotion had already begun behind her. People were coming. They would fan out across the palace grounds. If she could stay out of view long enough for them to pass, it would be simple enough to sneak back inside and lock herself away in one of the smaller, unused servants’ quarters. No one would think to look for her there.
The bulk of her gown made her movements clumsy. Stumbling over her skirt, she toppled into the bushes along the front corner of the building, falling onto the soft soil. Frantically she pulled the extra fabric into the hedges with her. Unconsciously she held her breath, afraid that her gasps for air would instantly direct everyone to her hiding place.
In the moments that passed, she felt her curiosity growing. Footsteps could be heard in all directions, though she couldn’t place where any of them were in relation to her. Carefully she pressed aside a portion of the hedge, instantly recognizing the slender figure of Shaelyn running out of the palace. She came to a stop not far from the door, hastening her pace around the other side of the building. Herryk wasn’t far behind, turning to follow in the direction Shaelyn had disappeared. A pitiable Callum staggered through the door on Herryk’s heels, calling out into the deepening darkness around him.
“Aiva!” The desperation in his tone was evident. His shouts continued as he rounded the bushes where Aiva was hidden. Shifting backward, she tried to avoid detection. The sound of his voice was followed soon after by calls from Edric and her father, separating to search the grounds closer to the road.
The Myatheira Chronicles: Volume Two: Beyond the Veil Page 13
