Legends of Astræa: Cupid's Arrow Book 1 (Legends of Astræa Series)

by Sophia Alessandrini

  “So what kind of distraction are you thinking?” he asked with concern. I grinned at him and directed my gaze at the disgusting mount of road kill inside his cell.

  “Can you get those fat large rodents—the alive ones—to run into the dancing hall at exactly five minutes before eleven p.m.?” I tossed him a gold watch I found in the jewelry safe the prince had given me, among the excessive gifts that arrived daily.

  He grinned back at me as he grabbed the watch in midair. “I have a debt to settle with Rurikovich, but I will not harm anyone in the palace… tonight,” he promised.

  I knew he was a man of honor. I smiled back at him. “Good. You will need help to hide after that. Look for Mr. Demyan Greco.” I tossed him a piece of royal stationary with a handwritten phone number.

  “So all I must do is get the vermin at the party upstairs and disappear?” He needed confirmation.

  “Yes, there is an air shaft around the fourth corner of this tunnel that leads straight up to your freedom. You can’t miss it. The stone and mortar seem to have uneven pieces you can climb easily.” On my way there, I had seen an old vertical shaft, probably used as a fresh air vent, that I was pretty sure led straight to the open roof. I was able to see the blue sky from the bottom, which solved the problem of anyone seeing him escape. “After that, I am not responsible,” I warned him.

  “Lord Pearson, your father, would have preferred that you were responsible at your early age. He would have arranged my lady with a husband or a protector. As his friend, a word of advice. My lady must keep away from evil. Stay away from Rurikovich,” he warned me.

  “Thank you. I’ll try,” I lied. Evil was going to hunt me whether I was protected or not. It was the main reason we were doing all of this. I closed my eyes and concentrated in his shackles instead of correcting his views. One by one, I popped them open.

  “I thank my lady immensely for her unconditional kindness. As requested, I shall be ready five minutes before eleven. But if My Lady needs my help, I will be there for her—anything at all.” He remained in the same sitting position as he was with wide open red eyes, grinning and massaging his free hands and feet. I turned away toward the threshold. I was giving him the privacy to stand since he was butt-naked.

  “Better if you go now,” he said, a little amused at my turning away. He was right, I needed to run from the hideous unpleasant air, since my time frame was small.

  I turned, running back to the stairs. As I did, I heard his voice echoing inside the dungeon.

  “Until we meet again, my lady.”

  I made it back just in time. I was about to get ready when I noticed my reflection in the mirror. I gasped in horror and then broke into uncontrolled laughter. My face was smudged. Crap. Then I recalled holding my nose with my hand. The same hand that had touched the stone pillar full of grime from the stone. Half of the pins had fallen out from going down and up all the steps. My hair looked unclean. All those hours of drying my hair and wearing rollers were for nothing. I looked terrible, and there was nothing more refreshing.

  I took a quick shower, feeling somewhat relieved the awful makeup would be gone. I slipped on Demyan’s red-and-gold dress. I had to be invisible in the crowd. Everyone would be expecting the honoree to show up in the angel white, fluffy dress. I needed enough time to have Demyan on board with my plan before I proceeded to do it.

  I stood in front of the mirror frozen without knowing what to do. My hair was dripping wet, and I didn’t know how to fix it. I didn’t want the fashion police back in my room or the hideous makeup or Enit or the questions I couldn’t answer after that. I knew I was in trouble when I was asking my best friend Gavril for help after that.

  The makeup was awful, and my hair looked like a rat’s nest, so I took a shower, and I don’t want those snotty harpies with fake smiles to redo me, I complained, blocking any thought of my outings inside my head.

  Please tell me you are going to the party. Are you? he was panicking worse than I was.

  Uh, well, do you have any other ideas?

  You never heard of hair brushes? he asked me humorously.

  Yes, I did, except there was one style I could handle. You let the hair dry naturally then you brush. Simple. I never owned anything that resembled a hair dryer, and I didn’t know anything about makeup except that all the girls back at the academy had tons of it. I sighed. It was useless.

  You could try shaking your head and hair several times. He continued his telepathic torture.

  Gavril, I am not a dog, I pointed out, with my innate sarcasm.

  He growled in guilt. All right, I know, but I have no clue when it comes to princesses.

  I knew then that everything was cool between us.

  Haa-ha. Not funny, I said complaining at the princess comment. He knew I’d hated it. Except, I didn’t. Not anymore.

  I glanced at the time, and I had none left. I looked dreadful. I couldn’t afford being the center of attention for the wrong reasons. For one time in my life, I wanted to be beautiful. Not overly done but just beautiful.

  You are beautiful, he said. And I was in big capital letters TROUBLE and he knew it too.

  We are saved. God, we are saved, he screamed inside my head.

  I flinched, wishing I could cover my ears.

  There is a large salon downstairs with anything a girl could dream of, including a hair dresser, hair dryers, makeup artists, and a manicurist downstairs, Gavril said.

  WHAT? Seriously? I asked him, not knowing if he was joking.

  Apparently, it is a normal occurrence among the rich and famous circles to offer any service for the guests, he said.

  I am not even going to ask you how you know all these things anymore, I told him.

  Hush, hush. Hurry.

  I grabbed the dress-matching mask, opened my doors, and addressed the two guards outside my room.

  “Would you be so kind to take me in a very discreet way to the ladies’ salon downstairs? I would like to redo my makeup and hair. Do not call those harpies back into my room,” I commanded.

  They exchanged glances between them. My hair was still dripping wet as I adjusted the mask over my head.

  “I really wish not to be seen yet.”

  They nodded and bowed respectfully.

  “We know a way to get my lady there without being seen,” the one on the left said with a kind smile for me.

  I followed them as we snuck all the way down through service stairs I had never seen before, avoiding everyone arriving at the party. The guards opened the doors to the grand entrance of the ladies’ salon and stood on each side guarding the entrance, since they were not allowed as males into this room. As I crossed the threshold of the ladies’ salon entrance, my hand held my mask that kept sliding off my nose. Crap. A perfect-looking female Strzyga walked out. She snickered at my hair as she passed me. Ugh.

  Good luck, Ailie, Gavril said. Right. I was going to need it.

  Chapter 43

  Large opulent mirrors had been carefully placed around in different areas of the salon. Every area had distinct groups of beautiful female immortals in perfect outrageous gowns. No wonder the triple-frosting-style skirt with a twelve-foot train had to be unequal in size and ornament. The prince wanted to impress the kingdom.

  He was going to be disappointed I was wearing Demyan’s dress. Yikes. I reminded myself I was here to save Gavril, Nicholas, Francis, and Demyan from the upcoming fight, not to play future queen. Besides, I really needed that extra time of invisibility to have Demyan in with me on my plan.

  The female Strzyga greeted each other as they came in or went. There was merriment and a sense of intimidating self-confidence I envied. Many of them displayed their Strzyga signum on their naked arms and shoulders. Everyone’s signum was slightly different, teal, red, magenta, even violet. Others were different hues of blue or gold, and the shapes were diverse and unique, but we all had them running from our left shoulder to our arms. It seemed to be a normal happenstance among female Strzyga. I wis
hed Francis had explained this to me.

  I inhaled for courage, as everyone stopped talking when I made my entrance. A tense silence greeted my awkward entrance. Multiple mind thoughts assailed me in different languages. I sorted out just the ones in English.

  Who is that; can’t be her; I wonder if…; good gods, a commoner; she bears the silver signum; her age, must be her; the hair, she must be Emesa’s offspring no doubt; maybe she is the future queen’s companion. At this point, all those thoughts were giving me a migraine. All eyes were set on me. All these female immortals were extraordinarily beautiful and frozen in time. I wondered if their hearts hadn’t frozen as well.

  I strode firmly toward the only left empty counter, avoiding the intense stares of female Strzyga. The stylists in black generic uniforms who’d stopped at my sight with critical eyes or mocking smirks, offered no help. I wasn’t expecting it anyway. They didn’t really know who I was, and it was better that way. Last time I had that kind of attention, it was awful. They probably thought I was crashing the party. The future queen was supposed to be ready and making the announced grand entrance through the main staircase in a white pompous dress.

  “It must be our future queen—,” a female Strzyga said with her gaze pointed directly at me. She wore an elaborate purple-and-red dress that displayed red roses along a racy neckline and a Contarini hat adorned with more roses and tall purple feathers over her head.

  Oh, crap. My anonymity lasted about two minutes. Along with her hat, she wore a Colombina half-mask—named after a stock character of a maidservant and designed because the actress did not want to cover her beautiful face. Apparently without willing to know, much of the chitchat the designers had made had taught me a lot about traditional masks and styles of hats.

  “The poor girl doesn’t look like much,” the must-be-the-leader said, throwing her vitriol at me. She sported the most intricate weaving of hair and peacock feathers that resembled a crown tower. With hair like that, she looked like Bluebird’s mother.

  “Poor prince,” a third female said, loud enough for me to hear. She was dressed in an amazing and flamboyant gold dress with a hairpiece symbolizing the sun rays. I could just hope she avoided walking too close to anyone’s eyeballs. Her pity was lost on me. How dare she?

  Then I looked at myself in the large mirror. Just the same, my gaze examined my pale face, my freaky violet eyes, and my limp-long-wet hair. Crap. I hadn’t given too much thought to the length of my hair. It had grown too long, all the way to my waist and I still had those dark-brown ends Francis had tinted when I was pretending to be a boy. They looked dreadful. Crap. Crap. Crap.

  I was a hilarious tragedy. Did I mention they were all drop-dead perfect and gorgeous… immortals? Instantly, I felt transported into the past. I was back at St. Mary’s where I was an ugly, unlovable orphan, a freak and someone to be laughed at. But I stopped my self-pity party and inhaled. That was then, this was now. I couldn’t be scared of very old and well-preserved mummies with viper tongues when I had to face real danger—namely Ash. No. I raised my chin.

  “Oh, darling. You have nothing to be concerned about,” Don’t-poke-my-eyeball said to Peacock Hair, whose bitter plastic smile didn’t seem to agree with her friend’s opinion.

  Oh, well, I was going to defect soon, and they could fight for the prince’s attention all they wanted. Crap. I hated feeling this horrible void inside my stomach at the mere thought I had to leave the palace and be far away from Nicholas.

  He will be back to me in no time, Peacock Hair thought with a smirk.

  I was familiar with that type of smirking, the not-friendly, derisive, and predatory type. The Tiffany Miller type. And she knew Nicholas very well. Crap. I sighed.

  On the marble, twelfth-century hand-carved counter, I saw combs and brushes and all kinds of machines that I had no clue how to use. I’d never used one. Crap. This party had been a bad idea from the beginning. In the reflection, I saw them standing right behind me. I grinned and turned to face them.

  “Son Altesse.” Peacock Hair’s pretended respect was as annoyingly fake as her beauty mark and long, thick lashes. I guess this was an advantage to being the future queen. Everyone had to kiss my lower posterior, even when I was ungracefully holding a mask over my face.

  “Oh, right. Such an honor to make your acquaintances.” I tried not to feel intimidated as the three of them curtseyed all the way to the floor with perfect balance and grace. Crap.

  “Could we be of service? I am Lady Nelthrope and this is Marchioness of Samedi, and Lady St. Claire,” Peacock Hair said, making the polite introductions. Sure, clean the floors and dust the cabinets with your feathered head. I just couldn’t understand what Nicholas had seen in this woman.

  “No, not really.” I needed help but not from them.

  “I couldn’t help but notice that Notre Altesse isn’t wearing white or the azure blue that matches His Royal Highness’s colors of the crown. Are you two having a spat?” Peacock Hair prompted conspiratorially, as if I could trust someone like her.

  I didn’t think so. Now I really felt bad. How was I supposed to know we were supposed to match each other’s outfits? I thought the triple-frosting cupcake dress still on the mannequin inside my dressing room was the most ridiculous thing I had ever seen, but now I wished I had worn the infernal instruments of torture that came with that dress to try to do some damage instead. Feeling upset with myself for letting them get to me, I shrugged my shoulders. I shouldn’t care if I matched Nicholas or not. I smirked and approached them closely as if telling them a secret. I was going to play a bad joke on them.

  “If you must know, someone has destroyed the dress, and I am looking for the responsible criminal who committed such an act. Do any of you know someone who might have enough motivation?” My whispered voice was still loud enough to allow the room to hear a pin fall on the floor in response. Female gasps reverberated throughout the salon. Everyone began to evacuate the room as fast as they could, fearing to be blamed for such an act. I wished Gavril was there to enjoy the prank.

  “Harpies,” a soft, friendly voice said, interrupting my encounter with Peacock Hair and her mean clique.

  I sighed. I smiled back at the beautiful woman sitting in a lounge chair near my counter area. “Lady Pontus, and right now your fairy godmother,” she said, picking up a nice detangling comb and carefully taking off my mask. My eyes were busy following Peacock Hair, Don’t-poke-my-eye, and Purple Dress, who exchanged a last glance at my signum. I looked at the women behind me. It was as if she knew something about me I didn’t know. What?

  “Thank you. You don’t have to,” I said, pulling the mask back on, but she waved me off and clicked her fingers at the hair dressers. They all snapped and ran to her service. All suddenly acting diligently and extremely serviceable. Right.

  “Unless you want the rest of the wolves descending onto you as if you were a piece of sacrifice to the gods, I think you need my help,” she said. She was right. I needed help, and she was nice enough to offer it to me. Very quickly, two hairdressers were drying my hair with incredible care and nervous but clumsy smiles, probably trying to overcome their shortcoming just minutes ago.

  Lady Pontus’s gown was a strapless dark blue lace with a different shade of blue silk underlining it. Lady Pontus’s signum, like mine, nestled on her shoulder and arm and was silver with swirling vines. She moved with the grace of a queen, carrying a four-feet-long train on her gown. I wished I could be that gracious.

  “I can see why they envy you. You are absolutely beautiful,” Lady Pontus said, surely humoring me.

  I blushed at her compliment, wishing she would tell me what it meant to be a female Strzyga like a mother would. Francis and Gavril had no clue on the subject. After my long hair was dry and voluminous, Lady Pontus dismissed the girls with one hand gesture. Then she commanded a list of things to be brought as her hands carried away with artful experience on my hair. She secured my hair with pins.

  “Here,” she s
aid, taking off her impressive rubies-and-diamonds necklace and securing it over my neck. It felt heavy over my neck. Not that she needed any more jewelry with the large tiara over her head and the huge ruby in her hand.

  “Please, Lady Pontus. I cannot accept such…” Such an expensive item. It was beautiful and tempting, but I couldn’t possibly accept such kindness. I had a safe-box full of diamonds that had been specially made for the absurd white dress upstairs.

  “Nonsense, child. This will keep the harpies off your tail. They will see you as my protégé. They will assume you are important to me,” she said, overbearing my efforts to give back her jewelry.

  “But—”

  “Are you going to offend my kindness, child?” she asked me. A lost battle.

  “Of course not, Lady Pontus.”

  “Then call me Adelaide, and please accept my gift and my protection,” she said.

  “Thank you, Adelaide. But only if I can return these later,” I said, pointing at the ruby necklace.

  “Very well, if you must. Return them later with any of the palace couriers. But I would prefer if you come to visit me or call me instead. I know we will have fun together,” she said, handing me a linen card with her name, her address, and her phone number from her ornamental etui clutch bag. She kept fixing my hair without further conversation for a minute.

  “I can see us being great friends, ma petite,” she said, taking her earrings off. “You remind me of someone I cared for very much.”

  “Oh, Adelaide, you mustn’t,” I insisted, touching the incredible piece on my neck. Another lost battle.

  “I wish you were, ma petite fille, so you cannot deny me this wish, child,” she said, closing the clip over my left ear. “Voila,” she said.

  I smiled back at her in gratitude for her cheering kindness.

  She turned the hand mirror for me to check my hair. She had made simple tresses around my face, pinning them in the back with pins and crystals in a fashion that resembled a Botticelli Venus painting. The hair looked incredibly good with all her efforts.