Kell glances sidelong at the woman in the dress, the woman who—if we were on our planet—would probably be mouthing, “Call me.” As it is, she's leaning forward a little, one brow raised, so that Kell can have full view of her chest.
“This is preposterous!” yells the swordswoman, sinking even lower into the fighting stance. Right now, she looks as if she's squatting at the gym. “You slept with my wife! Honor has been breeched! I demand retribution!”
“Those breeches are about to be breeched,” Kell mutters, indicating the tightness of the woman's trousers as she sinks lower into her bend. Kell sighs then, with a great amount of boredom.
“Kell,” says Magel, folding her arms before her, “did you know this woman was married when you slept with her?”
Kell shrugs. “Of course not. I have more honor than that,” she mutters, gritting her teeth as the woman with the sword starts to waggle her weapon in the air inexpertly.
“Stand and face me, knave!” the woman is shouting—and then Calla steps forward.
The queen removes the hood from her head. I didn't realize it until this moment, but Calla is wearing a slim, silver circlet over her blonde hair and brow. The effect is subtle, but as she rises up to her full height, her shoulders back, her chin lifted, it's fairly obvious to anyone watching that the queen herself is here.
The crowd around us hushes as more and more people realize Queen Calla stands among them.
“Fine citizen,” says Calla then, her words smooth and just loud enough for everyone within the vicinity to hear as she steps forward. “I am so sorry that there has been a misunderstanding.”
The woman actually drops her sword, and it clangs on the white cobblestones like a cheap prop. “Uh...ah, Your Majesty,” she says, and she takes off her enormous hat and holds it in front of her as she performs a very sweeping, melodramatic bow. I'm not quite sure why I think it's melodramatic. Maybe because it takes about a minute to execute, and she makes little flourishes with her hands as she floats down, pointing her toe forward as if she's about to ask Calla to dance. “I am Lady Von Epsendice, your majesty. Maybe you remember me from court? I have been invited to many of your fine dinners and dances,” she says, smiling hugely.
“Of course,” says Calla, her smile soft. “Now, let me apologize for my knight, Kell. She assures me that she knew nothing of your wife's prior commitment to yourself when she had her dalliance, I assure you.”
Kell sighs for a long moment, but then sheathes her sword and steps forward, her hands up again in a gesture of surrender.
“I apologize, Lady Von Epsendice,” says Kell, gritting her teeth. “I did not meant to cause any harm. I thought your wife was unattached.”
The woman in the dress, the wife in question, is about to say something, her brow furrowed, but the Lady Von Epsendice steps in front of her.
“Yes, yes, all is forgiven!” says the lady then, folding forward into another ridiculously elaborate bow. “Will we be invited to the formal banquet this night, Your Majesty?”
The words are calculated, as if she was hoping for this outcome. Well. That's pretty jerky. But Queen Calla, surrounded by all of these people, and forced to diffuse the situation, seemingly has no choice. If she wants to look good in front of her citizens, she'll have to agree to the lady's demand to come to a royal dinner party...
But Calla surprises me:
“All are invited to the banquet this night,” says Calla, smiling as she lifts her voice and gazes around at her people, now a large crowd, surrounding us on the street. “Please, tell your friends and loved ones. This night, in Arktos City, will be a night to remember,” she says, raising her arms.
There's a loud cheer all around us—even as Charaxus stares at her queen while biting her lip...and holding her tongue.
The cheering becomes a little deafening; women throw open the shutters of the windows in the nearby buildings and stare down at the proceedings, taking up the cheer, too. The roar of approval seems to spread like wildfire, and I can hear it coming from multiple streets; we're standing at a crossroads in the city right now.
Wow.
Word spreads fast around here.
Lady Von Epsendice is currently bright purple. I'm sure that she couldn't have predicted this outcome. And though I've known the lady for all of a handful of moments, she strikes me as the kind of person who doesn't want to associate with “lesser folks.”
“It...it will be a pleasure to attend the banquet,” mutters the lady then, doing a fumbling bow that is less elegant and theatrical than her previous attempt, and then she's grabbing her wife's hand and tugging the woman after her, effectively disappearing into the crowd.
“We had best make our way to the palace, milady,” says Magel, a smile making her lips turn upwards at the corners as she steps forward and curls her gloved hand around the queen's elbow, shaking her head with a low chuckle. “A big evening is now ahead of us.”
Calla turns back, and the smile that lights up her face just then makes me feel like I'm looking at the queen who once was...and the queen who could be again. The light that emanates from her eyes is bright enough to light up a city. “If the King of Furo thinks that war is a good idea, I can show him the women who would be fighting against him. And that, I think, will give him pause,” she says, her smile faintly mischievous.
“I've got a bad feeling about this,” sighs Kell, but she turns back with a grin for the queen. “Thank you for saving my rear, milady,” she tells Calla, and then Kell executes a showy bow to the queen, as the other knights chuckle.
“My pleasure. But please, make certain you know who you sleep with next time, yes?” Calla tilts her head to the side as she smiles affectionately at Kell.
And, to my complete surprise, Kell actually blushes.
Chapter 6: Stars and Stars Forever
We arrive at the palace after a quicker walk through Arktos City than I would have liked, but—as Virago tells me—I have an entire week to explore the city, and time is of the essence right now.
So, Arktos City is big. It's certainly not New York City-big, but there are so many buildings and temples and shops, and the palace itself, sitting at the top of the city like a crown jewel, is enormous, with about twelve towers (that I could count, with a limited view of the skyline). All that being said...Calla just invited every single person in the city, from the people who live there on a daily basis to the people who have journeyed here for the Hero's Tournament, to dinner.
How in the world is she going to prepare for that many people on such short notice? How is she going to feed so many mouths? But every single time that I glance over at Calla, chatting with Charaxus or Magel, as the two knights escort Calla through the city, making a clear path for her through the crowded streets, I'm surprised to see that the queen looks calm, dignified...
If I were tasked with feeding hundreds, possibly thousands of people, I would probably look a little more frazzled than she does right now.
When we finally pass through the palace gates, Calla removes her cape and hood and gives them to an awaiting attendant, a woman in a long dress covered in a white apron, errant hairs flying out of her black braid. Calla runs a gloved hand through her own hair and sighs as she glances around.
We're standing in the very entrance of the palace, having just walked up the white stone steps and through the massive wooden door. The door was painted in vibrant purple, blue and silver, with five-pointed golden stars covering all of the cobalt blue areas. Past the door is a very long hallway, with a cobalt blue rug beneath our feet that stretches to the next set of doors. The ceiling is far above us, covered with paintings of women sitting on clouds. There are white columns all along the hall, and Gothic arched windows along the hallway letting in a decent amount of late-afternoon sunshine.
“We need to prepare for this evening immediately,” says Calla, lifting her chin, her eyes flashing as if she's just been given a particularly exciting challenge, and she can't wait to confront it. “I will, of co
urse, need a meeting with Asha. Can you arrange that, Charaxus?” she asks her vice queen.
Charaxus nods, her mouth thin, hard. “Your head cook will not be pleased with you, milady,” she says wryly.
“Asha can just drag out the Cauldron of Plenty,” says Calla, waving her hand dismissively. “We've used it before. I know she'll be frustrated that there's no time to present her usual gourmet cuisine, but beggars cannot be choosers. Now,” says Calla, turning on her heel. She glances at Virago and me and smiles. “Normally,” she tells me, taking a step forward, her much-too-big armor clanking as the maid steps forward again and begins to undo the straps at her shoulders, “Virago would stay with her fellow knights in the barracks. But this is a special occasion. And a guest cannot stay in the barracks. It's not seemly,” she tells me, gesturing to me with a smile. “So you and Virago will stay in the far north tower guest room, Holly. My treat.”
“Milady,” says Virago, paling. “We deserve no special treatment.”
Kell snorts. “No, no—she's giving us the special treatment, Virago. I don't want to lie awake at night and hear the two of you worshiping the Goddess of Love in the bunk next to mine.”
This earns hearty laughter from Alinor, and Magel chuckles before hiding her mouth behind her hand as Virago sighs, a single brow arching.
“That you would think that I should ever be so crass,” she begins to tell Kell, but then Kell is shaking her head, chuckling.
“It is good that you have found your lady,” says Kell, glancing sidelong at me with a smirk. “And we are glad of it. But take the queen's offer. It is given in kindness so poor Holly doesn't have to sleep on a bed of straw. And it is a kindness to us, yes, but it is a kindness to you, too, so your virtue may remain unchallenged, and you need not revere the Goddess of Love in our presence.” Kell sticks out her tongue at Virago, and Virago laughs.
Calla is chuckling, too. “That may have been one of my considerations, yes,” she says, and when she glances at me now, she looks almost wistful, as if she's remembering something she once had... But the expression fades in a moment, when she turns back to Charaxus. “I must meet with my head cook, Asha, now,” she calls to us over her shoulder. “Virago, I know you know where the room is. Please go to it, with my compliments. And visit the court seamstresses, will you?” With that, Calla's all the way down the long hallway and gone around a corner.
Magel rocks back on her heels, a brow raised. “The banquet will be soon. We must get into our best armor.”
Virago glances down at herself and shrugs. “I must go in this, I'm afraid. My best armor is in the barracks, and I haven't time to change.”
“You don't need to win a pretty girl, anyway,” says Kell with a chuckle. “You already have one!”
“Go show your pretty girl to your rooms,” says Alinor, thumping Virago on the back as the three knights turn, ready to leave us. “We will meet you at the banquet?”
“I look forward to it,” says Virago, touching her forehead with her two first fingers and tipping her hand forward in a small salute. The knights leave, and then Virago is weaving her arm through mine as I try to convince Shelley that she doesn't want to go after the maid who just took off down the hallway.
“Let us go,” says Virago companionably, and we begin to walk through the palace of Arktos City.
The maid may have already scampered off down the hallway, but coming back down towards us as quickly as her feet can move her is another woman. Her black hair is done up in a set of elaborate braids that spiral and build themselves into a rather impressive bouffant on her head. She is wearing a waistcoat, vest, white shirt with lace at the throat and wrists, and breeches that end in leggings and buckle shoes. She bows, and when she stands back up, her smile is dazzling.
“Milady Holly?” she asks, holding out her brown hand to me. I take it, and then she's shaking it vigorously as her smile deepens. “I am Joy, head tailor and seamstress to Queen Calla, and she told me to see you right away to procure an outfit for the banquet this evening.”
I'm a little dismayed as I look down at myself and realize that my Super! Clever! Plan! to wear a cheap Renaissance costume dress didn't go over so well, but Joy is watching me, taking a step back as if to get a better look.
“No, you look fine, lovely,” she tells me, her voice warm and soothing, as if she could read my thoughts, “but the banquet will be a fancy affair. Right, Virago?” Joy asks, winking. Virago takes a step back, holding up her hands.
“Right,” says my knight with a chuckle. “Joy used to be a knight, Holly,” she says then, grinning at the woman who has taken a little cloth measuring tape out of her sleeve now and is kneeling in front of me, measuring and making strange faces as she mumbles numbers. “But the call of the cloth was much more interesting to her than sword fighting,” says Virago with a shrug. “So, after ten years of carrying the sword...she put it down in exchange for a needle.”
“Wow, that's pretty cool,” I tell Joy as she asks me to lift my arms from my sides. Shelley chooses this exact moment to pepper the woman's face with kisses, which Joy takes in stride, petting Shelley's head absentmindedly as she rises and finishes my arm measurements.
“It's never too late,” says Joy, her eyes twinkling, “to be what you might have been. Now, stand up straight, please.”
I feel a little self-conscious, letting this woman measure me in what is, effectively, the palace's foyer, but I acquiesce, and the measuring is over in another minute. Joy tilts her head to the side as she counts something on her fingers now, her eyes taking on that distinctive far-off look as she drapes her measuring tape over her shoulders and straightens, tugging on the arms of her coat with a flourish.
“Your room is in the north-most tower?” she asks for clarification, and I nod with a small shrug.
“I...think so?” I mutter, and glance at Virago, who nods.
Joy holds out her hand to me and smiles widely. “All right, then! Hold on tightly, and close your eyes.”
Virago steps forward at that moment and takes my hand, which also grips Shelley's leash, and I awkwardly take Joy's hand, too.
And everything around us...changes.
Honestly, it's as if the hallway we were just standing in had been painted on a theater's backdrop, and the backdrop fell away to reveal an entirely new room. Because one moment, we are standing in the front hallway of the palace, and the next, we're standing someplace else entirely.
“Wow,” I breathe, spellbound.
We're in a tower room; I can tell because the ceiling slants upward, and in the very center, it rises into an inverse point. To our right is a cozy bed with a bright blue canopy, and a cobalt-blue duvet covered with embroidered golden stars. Across from the bed, there's a fireplace made out of the same white stone as the cobblestones on the streets of the city, and in the fireplace, a fire roars merrily away. Around the edges of this circular room, there are bookshelves built to hug the curved wall, crammed with many old, bound books.
“All right, let me see,” says Joy, stepping quickly across the sumptuous, cobalt-blue rugs to stand in front of the wardrobe that's situated next to the fireplace. The wardrobe is tall and ornamented, with carved vines and stars trailing down the warm, honey-colored sides. She throws open the doors to reveal a completely empty wardrobe.
Joy glances at me over her shoulder and looks me up and down. “I must ask this, though I think I already have a sense of your style,” she says, her mouth turning upwards at the corners. “But do you dress like a knight, a lady, a lady knight, or somewhere in between all of those?”
“Um...” Perplexed, I glance down at myself. “I like dresses, mostly,” I tell her.
“Lady it is,” Joy tells me, and she closes the wardrobe. She's holding tightly to the door handle, and she bows her head. For a moment, I think something's wrong, but then Joy snaps her head back up, and she opens the wardrobe doors, dramatically flinging them wide.
The wardrobe is no longer empty but filled with dresses.
Joy turns back to me. “I would recommend a dress that compliments your hair,” she tells me, tapping the side of her nose, “but then, anything in there should do nicely. My work here is done,” she says, with another bow. “I will see you at the banquet?”
“But...but...how did you...” I step forward, reaching out toward the dresses in the wardrobe. My fingers pass over a silky skirt, and the fabric—color-shifting from red to orange, and back to red in the firelight—is so soft and smooth that it makes me shiver to imagine wearing something so beautiful.
Joy leans forward and smiles at me as she shrugs. “Magic,” she whispers. Then she nods to Virago and me, and—in an instant—she disappears.
I let out a very long breath, and I glance around, just to make sure Joy is really gone and that I didn't just imagine it.
“Well, that was...weird. And very, very cool,” I tell Virago, who smiles at me as she kneels down, unclipping Shelley's leash from her collar. Shelley bounds around Virago and then makes a beeline for the bed, leaping up onto it, twirling around three times like the wonderful, neurotic dog that she is, and then curling up into a tight ball at the foot.
“Try on one of those dresses,” says Virago, then, indicating the wardrobe. She sighs tiredly, and she reaches up to her chest to unbuckle the sword belt that hangs from her back. “Any of those will look lovely on you,” says Virago, her smile small and earnest as she gazes at me with soft eyes. “Joy does impeccable work.”
“Did she use magic to get us from the front hallway to here? And to just make these dresses appear out of thin air?” I ask her, mystified, as I set Shelley's leash down on a small, ornate table by the side of the bed and cross the room to the open wardrobe. “Because, if she did, that's pretty kick-ass and amazing, and I think I may need a lie-down to process all of this soon.” I reach out again and finger the material of another dress, this one bright, emerald green. It's as sumptuous and soft as velvet, but it isn't quite velvet, so it's not heavy in my hand. I let the skirt fall from my fingers, putting my hands on my hips to stare at the contents of the wardrobe with wide eyes.
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