by K. A. Linde
She felt drawn to him in some inexplicable way. And she was almost positive it had affected him, too. Why else would he have responded to me in such a manner? It hardly fit with her vision of the King of Byern.
Just as her frustration about the Presenting ceremony was about to become unbearable, the far door pried open. Cyrene rushed to the door, expecting to be ushered out of the room by a castle official. Instead, a tall figure walked inside.
“Reeve,” she said aghast, “what are you doing here? Aralyn said I’m not supposed to have any visitors.”
“I know, Cyrene.” Her brother crossed his arms over his chest.
“Then, what are you doing here?” She stomach knotted.
“I came at the request of King Edric to inform you that he needs a longer period of deliberation before your Selecting.”
“What?” she nearly shrieked. “Why would he need more time?”
“Your tone, Cyrene.”
“It’s just you. It’s not like he can hear me,” she grumbled.
“If King Edric wants more time, then he is perfectly entitled to it even if it is slightly unconventional.”
“Slightly unconventional? Have you ever heard of this happening?”
Reeve sighed and dropped his arms to his sides. “No, I haven’t. I don’t know what the King could possibly be considering. Do you?”
“No.” She shifted on the balls of her feet.
“What did you and King Edric talk about when you were standing before him?” He narrowed his eyes as if he already knew she had done something wrong.
“Nothing. We went through the questions and the Oath of Acceptance. That’s all,” she lied, defiantly crossing her arms.
“It took longer than it should have.”
“What are you still doing here, Reeve?” She turned away from him and strolled over to the mahogany table. “You’ve delivered your message.”
Reeve cursed under his breath. “What have you done, Cyrene? Don’t you know how serious this is?” He strode toward her. “Your life hangs in the balance.”
She whirled around. “I am not going to die for bantering with the King.”
He hissed through his teeth. “You bantered with him in the middle of your Presenting?”
She rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “Yes. He went off script, and I followed his lead.”
“Off script? You think it was right to go off script for something you have been preparing for your entire life? A script every single person of age recites?”
The last thing Cyrene wanted to do was give in to this line of reasoning. Otherwise, she might legitimately have a breakdown right then and there.
“Yes,” she finally answered him.
“And you think this has nothing to do with his extended deliberation?”
“It…could.”
Reeve paced the room once before looking back at her. “What did you two discuss?”
Cyrene shrugged. “I told him I was a loyal Byern subject, and he commented that he liked my dress, but no one wore red in his court.”
“He commented on your dress?” He raised his eyebrows.
“Yes.”
He rubbed his chin. “And that was all?”
She nodded.
“That doesn’t sound too damaging,” he admitted.
“Are you finished?”
“Cyrene,” he said soothingly, “you know I’m just worried about you.”
“Well, don’t. You have as much control over what happens as I do.” As much as she wanted her brother to comfort her, she couldn’t let herself show weakness. She still had to get through her Selecting in one piece.
“High Order Strohm,” a royal official called into the room, “you are needed at your seat.”
Reeve moved to give Cyrene a hug, but she backed away from him. Reeve’s face hardened before he exited the room, leaving her all alone once more. Her body heaved. She hated acting like that to Reeve, but she did not want him to know how terrified she was.
After another thirty minutes, the door finally opened once more.
“Miss Strohm, the King has come to a decision. He is ready for you.”
Cyrene briskly exited the room and walked across the marble floors. The King had made her wait nearly three times as long as any other presented individual, and she was ready to get this over with. She stalked up the front steps to the platform and nearly forgot to bob her curtsy. At the last second, she politely dipped down.
King Edric gestured for her to stand. “Cyrene Sera Strohm, you have been presented before the Royal Court of Byern and have taken the Oath of Acceptance to fulfill your duties to your land. Under deliberation with Queen Kaliana and Consort Daufina, I have come to a decision regarding your Selection.”
Cyrene gulped, nervously wringing her hands in front of her. She glanced left into the pale blue eyes of Queen Kaliana, who looked none too pleased, and then right into the hooded eyes of Consort Daufina, who was practically glowing. Cyrene did not understand either response.
“It has been decided that you will be selected into the Guardian First Class.”
Cyrene’s heart leaped with joy. First Class!
The King rose from his throne and walked to Cyrene. “Your Receiver will be Queen Kaliana.”
Cyrene’s mouth dropped open in utter shock.
“And from this day forth, you shall be known as the Queen’s Affiliate.”
The applause from the court was deafening as people stood and cheered for their newest Affiliate. The honor was so rare and the position so coveted that no one in the court had anticipated it. In two years, only three girls—including Cyrene’s sister—had been placed in the position.
As if the Creator herself was responding, lightning flashed beyond the windows. A crack of thunder erupted overhead. The storm that had been threatening them all morning was about to open up on top of the ceremony.
As gazes shifted to the window, the sky commenced a torrential downpour, hitting the castle in sheets. She couldn’t remember the last time a storm with such force had hit Byern. Maybe it never had.
Coming back to the reality of what had just happened, Cyrene returned her gaze to the King in awe. Her heart rate skyrocketed.
He gestured for Consort Daufina to move forward. He held out his hand, and she lightly placed something into his palm. He returned his focus to Cyrene. “Give me your hand.”
Cyrene obeyed, holding her hand out to him.
“In your palm I place the Queen’s symbol, a circular pin of Byern climbing vines. So long as you have this with you, you will have a piece of your land, our land, and you will be known throughout the world as one of our own.”
Cyrene closed her fingers around the small circular charm that she had been waiting for her entire life. “Thank you, My King.”
She stared at the symbol of the Affiliate, and her heart fluttered. The pin was an incredible piece of craftsmanship. The filigree pendant was intricately woven into a circle of gold leaves, as if the artist had plucked real climbing vines right out of the garden, with a clasp that she could attach to any of her garments.
King Edric addressed the awaiting crowd, who had finally quieted down, “Thank you all for attending Affiliate Cyrene’s Presenting. There will be a customary ball in her honor tonight to welcome your newest Affiliate.”
At the end of the ceremony, the crowd cheered one more time, and then courtiers began dispersing.
“Affiliate Cyrene,” King Edric said, drawing her attention away from the commotion, “we need to speak with you before you can leave the castle.”
Cyrene glanced over at her parents. Beaming, they addressed the line of nobles congratulating them. Two Affiliates and a member of the High Order in one household. It was almost like breeding well-trained horses.
“Yes, My King, of course.” She trailed behind the royal procession and entered a small anteroom far removed from the previous one.
A large ornate desk took up the majority of the far side of the wall, and severa
l high-backed chairs were placed around it.
“Sit.” King Edric gestured to the chairs as he took a seat behind the desk.
Cyrene sank into the nearest seat. The Queen and Consort both moved fluidly to seats on either side of the desk, neither looking at the other.
“After today, your belongings will be moved into the Queen’s quarters,” King Edric informed Cyrene. “As your Receiver, Queen Kaliana will make sure everything is taken care of for your new position as an Affiliate. You will report to the Queen tomorrow morning for instructions on proceeding with your regimen. Of course, you are equally responsible to Consort Daufina, who might have additional directions. Do you have any questions?”
Cyrene’s mouth went dry. She had a million questions, but one was more pressing than the others. “What happened to Rhea?”
“You may speak with your family regarding other Presenting ceremonies, but now is not the time. Do you have any further questions?”
She wanted to know more about what they had discussed during her Presenting and what had made them come to the conclusion to make her an Affiliate. If it had taken them so long to decide because I went off script, why did they decide to make me an Affiliate? Staring between Queen Kaliana and Consort Daufina, it was clear that they disagreed with each other. The Consort must have spoken in her favor and the Queen against her. The last thing I want is to make powerful enemies.
None of these thoughts were something she could vocalize.
“No, My King,” she said quickly.
“Very well. Your family has instructions on the festivities for the evening,” he said. They all stood. “Congratulations, Affiliate Cyrene.”
“Thank you, My King.” She dipped a low curtsy and darted out of the room.
The ballroom was now mostly empty, except for her family and a few stragglers. She descended the stairs and threw herself into Reeve.
“Congratulations,” everyone cheered.
Reeve wrapped her in a big hug, clearly having forgotten their earlier altercation. She was passed from sister to sister before reaching her parents.
“We’re so proud.” Herlana bawled with tearstains on her cheeks.
“Oh, Mother,” Cyrene said.
“And a whole ball in your honor,” her mother murmured as if this wasn’t the case for every member of the High Order or an Affiliate. “We’ll have to find you something suitable to wear.”
Cyrene’s family bustled around her out of the ballroom. Considering how doomed she had felt only a short while ago, she couldn’t have been happier. The King had made her an Affiliate!
They approached the castle doors that would lead them out to their carriages when Cyrene stopped abruptly at the rain-splattered steps. “Where is Rhea?”
Her family stared at the floor, at the ceiling, outside at the rain—anywhere but at her face.
Cyrene’s hands began to shake. “Mother? Father? Reeve, Aralyn, Elea…please.”
They all purposely looked away.
“She…she made First Class, right?” Her voice trembled.
Elea finally stepped forward and took Cyrene’s hand in hers.
The tears Cyrene had been holding back all day sprang to her eyes. “No, no, no, no, no.”
“She has been selected into Second Class,” Elea whispered. “Her new Receiver is in Albion.”
“Albion?” Cyrene spat. “By the Creator, that’s a hundred leagues away!”
No one spoke. Everyone already knew what this meant to Cyrene.
She had been given everything in one day, yet the most precious person in her life had been torn away from her.
As soon as Cyrene returned to her home, her mother whisked her upstairs to be fitted for her new ball gown. She didn’t question how the seamstress, Lady Cauthorn, one of the most sought after in the city, had been acquired for an in-home creation in the span of an afternoon or the price it was costing her parents.
She simply stood stiffly as the seamstress poked and prodded her while she listened to the constant babble of her family. They surely thought their words were comforting her against the pain at the loss of Rhea. They all talked about how she had finally gotten the position she always wanted, how important her future work at court would be, and how her life would be so busy with all her new duties.
So, she wouldn’t have time to miss Rhea—though they never said that.
When they thought she wasn’t paying attention, her parents whispered about how she would get through this and make new friends, how the pain would pass, that this was why everyone took the Oath of Acceptance, and how Selecting was the best process even if it didn’t feel like it now. None of those words were much comfort either.
Unable to coax much life out of her, they left her alone with the seamstress.
Several hours of intense labor by the seamstress and two of her assistants produced a dress fit for the Queen herself.
“All done,” Lady Cauthorn said. “Take a look.”
Cyrene stepped stiffly onto the box in front of the trifold mirror, and her mouth dropped open. The softest red silk draped across her fair skin in the most flattering manner. Thin straps on her shoulders led to a sharp V-cut neckline between her breasts. The back mirrored the front, revealing the soft contours of her back. The dress cinched at her slender waist with a thick ribbon tied at the base of her spine. From there, the silky material cascaded like a waterfall over her narrow hips before pooling at her feet on the ground. She had never seen such a bold design.
She knew one thing for certain. She would make a splash at the ball tonight.
“I love it, Lady Cauthorn.” Cyrene turned slowly. “I would like to pay you for this.”
Lady Cauthorn shook her head. Her mouth was set in a bright smile, and her eyes glowed at her creation. “Your parents commissioned the dress. They will pay.”
Cyrene wrestled with her newfound position. “As an Affiliate, I will make plenty to cover the costs.”
“Your parents will pay,” she insisted.
“What if I pay you from my endowment?”
Lady Cauthorn raised her eyebrows. “Why do you insist on paying?”
“I want this to belong to me and only me.”
The seamstress seemed to see straight through her. She tilted her head and continued to examine her. Her eyes turned glossy and far off for a moment, and then she snapped back to reality. “You are meant for great things, Child.”
“Thank you,” she said automatically. “But in the matter of the dress…”
“The dress.” Lady Cauthorn busied herself with cleaning the mess she had made. “It’s a gift.”
“What? No. Lady Cauthorn, I have the money!”
“No bother, girl.” She snapped her fingers at her stunned assistants, and they rushed into motion.
“I cannot accept this,” Cyrene assured her. “It’s too much.”
Lady Cauthorn looked back up at her once more and smiled, but it wasn’t a kind smile. It seemed almost calculated. “A gift is a precious thing. Perhaps we could negotiate the price of the dress for a favor.”
“A favor? That’s it?”
“Yes. Just one favor from you at a time of my choosing.”
“I don’t understand. This dress must have cost a fortune. What is the favor?”
“Whether a high cost or a low cost, it won’t be one you will pay for today.” She gave Cyrene a toothy grin. “The dress for a favor. Are we in agreement?”
Cyrene nodded at her in bewildered accord. “Yes, I agree.”
“Perfect.” Lady Cauthorn walked forward and attached Cyrene’s Affiliate pin to her chest. “I’ll inform your parents that the gown has been paid for.”
“When will you collect your favor?”
“Likely when you least wish it so. Good luck in the lion’s den.” Lady Cauthorn bowed her head and then exited the room.
Cyrene wasn’t sure what to make of the entire exchange. All she knew was, she was certainly indebted to Lady Cauthorn and wasn’t entirely sure i
f that was a good thing.
Cyrene tucked her Presenting letter away into a fold in the gown. It was the only thing she was bringing with her tonight. She touched the wall of her bedroom one last time before leaving the comfort of it behind. She was no longer a little girl anymore. In her place was a woman who would begin a new life as a palace noble.
Tilting her chin, she descended the staircase to a vacant foyer. Her fingers trailed along the climbing-vine pin attached to the bodice of the gown, and a tremor of excitement ran through her. She couldn’t believe she had been appointed an Affiliate, especially considering Rhea had not been given the same honor.
Trying to put aside the depressing thoughts, Cyrene opened the front door and stared out to the cobblestone road beyond her home. A light trickle of rain was still falling from the sky. She breathed in the crisp dewy air. The comforting smell reminded her so much of the rainy seasons of her childhood, such as the time when she had kissed a boy in the stable yard to prove to Rhea that she wasn’t afraid. After she had been caught, Rhea had crept up into her room and brought her dinner. They’d giggled about it until she had to go home.
Cyrene laughed, but there was a touch of sadness and desperation in the hiccupping sound. They could never be those children again.
At that moment, Rhea stepped out of the shadows. “What’s so funny?”
Cyrene started at her friend’s sudden appearance. “Rhea!” She rushed out of the doorframe to the covered front porch.
Rhea stepped away from her. “You’ll ruin your dress!” She had changed into a much simpler dress with her heavy rain boots and a cape to cover her head, but she was still dripping with water from head to toe.
“Why are you soaking wet?” Cyrene demanded. “You’re certain to catch a cold.”
“I snuck out.” She shrugged off her drenched coat and hung it on a nail. Her long red hair hung down her back. The ends were damp, and the wisps around her face had formed into ringlets.
“And what? You walked over here?”
“It’s not that far. I couldn’t risk getting caught, and I couldn’t leave without seeing you.”
