by Neha Yazmin
“What makes you think I’ll say more?” His lips twitched, wanting to sneer. He pressed them into a line. Courtiers couldn’t see him being hostile towards her.
“I don’t know.” Her shoulders fell and she sighed. “No one in this Island tells me anything. They just assume that I know.”
She was clearly referring to the flaming feathers. A smile tugged on his lips as he recalled how terrified she’d been when she’d first seen them.
“Well, it is funny seeing how you react.”
Maybe he wouldn’t tell her anything about today’s festivities, just to see what she did?
“I’m glad I amuse you so much, Your Highness,” she huffed.
He pursed his lips, not wanting her to see him smile. He could feel it breaking through his resolve, though, so it was time to make a move.
“Enjoy the day,” he said in dismissal and turned to walk away.
But she stopped him with, “By the way, you look very handsome today, Your Highness. Black is your colour.”
When he twisted around to see if she was smirking, she was gone.
Black was his colour. It made his wine-red hair more vibrant, less dark, and his green eyes brighter. She hadn’t expected the Crown Prince to be wearing the same black clothes as everyone else. She thought his outfit ought to have some gold embroidery, something to distinguish him as a member of the Royal Family. The future King of Roshdan. And yet, the simple black robes didn’t make him look less regal, less like a warrior. If anything, he looked the best she’d ever seen him.
The handsomest people didn’t need fancy attire or sparkly accessories; they looked good in anything. Simple dress often made their beauty shine brighter. Wyett, it seemed, was one of those people. She could really see his beauty now; the expensive clothes had gotten in the way. That and the fact that she hadn’t really thought of his looks since the first night she’d met him.
Most of the time, she saw his face and saw his anger and disgust. Whenever she thought about him, she thought of how much he loathed to be near her.
But in that moment when he was borderline teasing her, his rage and bitterness momentarily forgotten, not only did he look like a nineteen-year-old, he looked like he could laugh and joke and be carefree and happy. She could picture him being just as friendly as Seth, just as warm. He could be his father, if only he shrugged that chip off his shoulder.
Aaryana refused to believe that it was just her and Micah that brought out the worst in Wyett. Seth and Quin were the King’s children, too, just as afraid for their father’s life as their eldest brother, but they weren’t behaving like him. Yes, Micah had been Wyett’s friend, and the betrayal had obviously hurt him and shattered his trust, but the Crown Prince was clearly strong enough to rise above it. Yet, he went around being moody and detached, furious and bad-tempered, alone and unsmiling, never speaking unless he couldn’t avoid it.
It must have been the death of his mother. It must have broken him completely. Then, why hadn’t she heard anyone say that Wyett hadn’t always been like this? Why hadn’t Lisbeth or her friends murmured that the Queen’s passing had altered him completely? But this Court is very good at keeping secrets… Nothing about Wyett had ever suggested that he was hiding something, so perhaps that meant he was an expert secret keeper, not that he didn’t have any secrets.
She shook her head. Why was she trying to convince herself that Wyett had been, or could be, anything other than what he was now? What did it matter? It’s not like I can change him back...
Locking the door to her bedchamber, Malin sprawled on her bed, flipped to Chapter 1 of the second edition of the Sea Princess’s tale, and began reading.
Almost immediately, the opening poem was elaborated upon, but it was rather underwhelming. Whereas the widely known version of the tale spoke of the Princess falling in love with a handsome fisherman and leaving the ocean to be with him, this earlier edition had it backwards. She was already married to a Sea Prince, but because she didn’t love him, she was miserable.
She left the ocean to escape a loveless marriage, and to find happiness and freedom. When she made it to shore, she did meet a fisherman, and the events that followed were much the same as in the third edition.
Just when she began thinking that she was reading the same story, just in a slightly different style, Malin came across a scene that hadn’t been in the newer edition. A scene that her step-mother had never referred to, and she didn’t think it had been acted out in any of the stage performances of the tale, either.
The Sea Princess’s true love, the fisherman, had decided to sneak up on her one day, to scare her, as a joke. But she’d been so terrified and angry at him for frightening her that she wanted to play a trick on him, too. So, she sang him to sleep and made him do all kinds of hilarious things in the village square. Everyone laughed at him. When he found out what he’d done in his sleep—though he couldn’t remember any of it—he vowed to never jest with her like that again.
This seemed to be a potential new ‘fact’ about the sea folk that she hadn’t heard of before: While you were under their sleeping spell, the creatures of the ocean could make you do their bidding, without you knowing it or remembering it when you awoke. If this part of the story hadn’t been completely made up for comedic value. Why hadn’t it been carried over to the next edition? It would have been great for the stage performances, too.
Could it be that whoever wrote the third version of the tale didn’t want anyone to know just how powerful and dangerous the Sea Princess was, and in turn, what the sea folk were capable of?
Who wrote the third edition? Malin smacked her forehead with the heel of her palm. She hadn’t bothered to examine the cover of the book she’d returned. It hadn’t felt important, the identity of the author, but with the second edition being so different in style—and some of the content—she was sure that it must have been two different people.
Did that happen? Could you rewrite someone’s story with a few changes and put your name on it, whilst keeping the title and main character the same?
Marking the page she was on with a finger, she closed the book to view the cover. The name written along the bottom looked familiar. Nayn Rametti. The Ramettis were one of the oldest and wealthiest families in the southern Islands. A branch of that family lived in Adgar—weren’t they distant cousins of her mother’s or something? However, it wasn’t just the surname that she recognised. She could swear that she’d seen the name Nayn Rametti written somewhere before.
There was no one named Nayn in the Rametti household today, so she must have seen it in something old. Perhaps she’d read other books written by Nayn when she was a child? Malin vowed to investigate this author the next time she visited the library.
Chapter 9
Lunch and dinner was also served in the Palace gardens today, but the actual party would be held at Moon Lake. Which was where the residents of the castle were heading now. Aaryana didn’t remember visiting that particular lake when she’d explored Roshdan in her first few days here, but apparently it was very beautiful and a short walk from the castle.
Everyone, including Aaryana, was carrying a lantern as they made their slow stroll towards the lake, the King and his children leading the way. The Royal Family and their personal bodyguards were the only people on horseback. A large group of Royal Guards were walking ahead of them at the front of the party, while more of their colleagues took up the rear.
Aaryana couldn’t blame the King for wanting to leave the castle. Wyett, on the other hand, was visibly unhappy about the risk his father was taking and was wearing a stormy expression on his face. She hadn’t seen him exchange a single word with King Keyan all day.
She hadn’t heard anything from Micah since that note he’d sent on Thursday outside Renchal’s. He was probably waiting for her to come to him. He wouldn’t be stupid enough to try and approach her at the party, would he? Or attack the King at the lake? Too many lives were at stake, too much innocent blood would spill.
The vast majority of the Palace’s guards were accompanying them to the party; Micah would have no chance to get anywhere near the King. His men would die for nothing if they turned up.
“What are you looking for, my Lady?” Jeena was walking alongside Aaryana, donning identical black robes to her.
The majority of the young men and women from the castle, nobles and servants alike, were in black. The older people, those that Aaryana knew to be married—like Lisbeth and her husband—or widowed—such as Rozlene—were wearing white.
“Just keeping an eye out for the rebels, Jeena,” Aaryana said, bending close to her maid’s ear.
“They won’t attack, my Lady, don’t worry,” the girl assured her just as quietly. “They learned their lesson last year.”
“They attacked at last year’s festival?”
Jeena nodded. “When His Majesty was on his way to Moon Lake.”
So, Wyett’s anger towards his father today wasn’t completely unfounded.
“But the guards took care of it quite easily. The rebels won’t make the same mistake twice.”
“What about at the lake?”
She might as well take advantage of the fact that Jeena was being so forthcoming with information. The girl’s excitement over the festival was lowering her inhibitions.
“There will be too many guards at Moon Lake,” Jeena replied. “All the Lords and Dukes will be coming with their guards, so there will be more of us than them.”
Of course! Those that had been asked to leave the Palace in the last few months would come to the lake to celebrate the harvest. And if there was an attack, they’d definitely order their guards to help protect the King. To get back in his good books. Sighing in relief, Aaryana relaxed her shoulders. Everything will be fine.
A few minutes later, they arrived at Moon Lake, a large clearing in the middle of the woods that were to the northwest of the Palace. Up ahead, she could see the water in the light of the hundreds of lanterns that had been placed around it. It was actually a very large pond, shaped like… almost like a crescent moon. That’s probably how it got its name.
The ‘lake’ curved around a large stone building, which Jeena pointed out as the “worship house”. The other side of Moon Lake was rimmed by a forest, denser than the line of trees they’d walked through. At the eastern portion of the lush field, a huge crowd of people had gathered, many of them carrying lanterns. Most were dressed in white, but she could see a good number of them in black robes, too.
People started cheering when they noticed the King, and when he dismounted his horse and waved at them, the applause was deafening. This was the reason he’d come tonight. To make his people happy. However, he didn’t make his way towards them. He and Quin walked briskly to the water, only their bodyguards following, and crouched down at the edge of the lake to drop something into the water. Aaryana couldn’t see what.
Nor could Jeena; the girl murmured, “I wonder what offering His Majesty and Princess Quin made to the Sea Goddess this year.”
“Offering?” Aaryana raised an eyebrow.
“Yes, in thanks for the rain that our crops needed, and not a drop more.” Jeena spoke as though she was reminding Aaryana of something she already knew. The girl obviously assumed that Adgar had similar customs. It didn’t. “And also to ensure that it doesn’t rain when our farmers are harvesting their crops.”
“The Queen of the Deep is responsible for the rain?” Aaryana wondered aloud as the King straightened up and headed for the crowd. Quin followed a step behind him.
“Don’t you remember me telling you, my Lady? The Sea Goddess is the mother of all water.”
“Oh, yes.”
“Yes, and without her tears, we wouldn’t be enjoying such a good harvest.” The servant beamed. “That’s one of the reasons we’re here, to make offerings to the Goddess and show our gratitude.”
“One of the reasons? What are the others?”
Jeena rolled her eyes indulgently, shook her head. “The finding ceremony, of course.”
“It’ll be alright, brother,” Seth said as the two of them walked side-by-side to the water.
The weather was neither cold nor warm tonight, and though the moon kept hiding behind feathery grey clouds, hundreds of stars dotted the black sky.
“Try to enjoy yourself,” Seth urged. “After all, this might be your last Finding ceremony.”
“One can only hope.”
Wyett absolutely hated the Finding ceremony, but he’d been forced to take part in it every year since the age of sixteen. Had been told to pretend that he was “a willing participant”.
“You know, you could avoid tonight’s ceremony altogether if you just proposed to Aaryana right now…”
Wyett threw his brother the meanest look he’d ever given him. Seth went pale.
“Right now,” the Crown Prince said through clenched teeth, “let’s just make our offerings and get you into the safety of the Worship House.”
“No,” Seth protested. “I’m going to stay outside and watch. Even Father is sitting outside.”
“Don’t remind me.” Wyett gritted his teeth.
The Worship House was made of thick stone and had an impenetrable metal door, but was his father going to spend the night within its protection? No. The King was mingling with the Lords and Ladies that he’d sent packing from the castle in the last year, without a care in the world.
Quin was catching up with her friends. He envied her youth; she and a few of her friends wouldn’t have to take part in the ceremony for a couple more years.
At the edge of the lake, the water ink-black in the night, Wyett and Seth bent down and dropped their gifts. Seth’s gold coin sank immediately. Wyett’s parchment-made boat floated away. It reached the parchment-swan that Quin had offered quicker than he thought possible.
“Nothing handmade for the Goddess this year, brother?” Wyett teased as the two of them rose to their feet.
“I don’t think the Goddess listens to the doomed, brother.”
“What? Seth!”
Wyett was stunned still by his brother’s words and could only watch as Seth went to join their father. It wasn’t like him to say something like that. Wyett wondered what had brought this on. His brother usually enjoyed the harvest festival. Even if he didn’t take part in the Finding ceremony, he’d never shown any disappointment over it. Never been in such a gloomy mood.
Was he feeling disheartened because he thought Wyett had found love with the Adgari and would marry her soon? Something like that would remind him that he shouldn’t fall in love.
Wyett felt a stab of hatred towards his father for making him do something—pretend to be courting the Adgari—that would hurt Seth in this way, the kind of hatred that made him hope that Micah did attack tonight. The kind of hatred he hadn’t felt towards his father in a long time.
Some people seemed nervous. Some were clearly excited—like Jeena. And there were those that didn’t want to be here but were doing their best to not show it. They had fooled a lot of people but Aaryana wasn’t one of them. Wyett and Erisa were taking part in the finding ceremony only for show, Aaryana could tell.
From the snippets of conversation she’d heard since arriving at Moon Lake, Aaryana had gathered what this ceremony would entail: The unmarried men and women—the unclaimed, as Jeena had called them—would search for a life partner tonight, and the Sea Goddess would bless the match. Well, something along those lines.
She supposed she understood Wyett’s reasons for not wanting to participate: The Prince was in love with someone he couldn’t marry—according to Micah—and pretending that he was looking for love probably stung. Especially when the Island believed he was pursuing Aaryana.
What was Erisa’s problem? Aaryana would have asked if the girl and her mother weren’t still avoiding her.
“My Lady, I must go wait over there.” Jeena pointed towards the trees behind them where a lot of people in white were congregating. She thought she saw the King am
ongst them. “The Royal Family and the King’s Court go first.”
“Go first in what?”
Jeena made an exasperated sound. “The finding ceremony, of course!”
The girl had been truly shocked when Aaryana told her that she didn’t have an offering for the Sea Goddess, nor did she possess an extra gift for the Goddess to bless her love for Wyett. She had watched from afar as everyone made their offerings.
When Aaryana insisted that she didn’t know that she was expected to bring anything—“And you didn’t tell me, either, Jeena!”—and that the harvest festival in Adgar was much simpler, the servant girl hadn’t believed her—“Are you sure you weren’t being lazy, my Lady?”—because most people apparently started making their gifts weeks before the harvest festival was due.
“I don’t know what I’m—”
The music began a second later—drums and a sweet, sweet flute—and Jeena rushed away. Someone grabbed Aaryana’s right hand and pulled her in the opposite direction, and soon her free hand was taken by a woman she’d never seen before. Before she knew it, all the young women in black were holding hands, forming a ring, and walking around in a circle.
The people that had gathered by the edge of the clearing were clapping to the beat of the drums. The tempo of the music sped up, more instruments joined in, and the ring rotated faster.
In the opposite end of the field, she could see that a group of men dressed in black were doing the same, though they weren’t holding hands like the women were. She saw Wyett moving around with the rest of the unclaimed men and was taken aback by the fury on his face. What had soured his mood so much that he was showing his emotions?
For one short moment, Wyett’s eyes met with hers and she raised an eyebrow at him, wanting to know what was wrong. She hoped he hadn’t interpreted it as patronising or offensive, but she didn’t find out what he made of it—he was looking up at the sky when she saw him on the next rotation. Aaryana lifted her head and saw that the clouds had thickened and spread, obscuring the moon and stars completely.
