by Vicky Savage
I yawn loudly, close my eyes, and instantly fall asleep.
TWENTY-SIX
When I wake the next morning, the castle is mostly deserted. I eat breakfast alone in the family dining room, where Samuel finds me and informs me that the hunting party left earlier this morning. They plan to be gone for the entire day, but Prince Damien and his entourage didn’t accompany them. A messenger arrived at dawn, summoning the prince back to Dome Noir post-haste, due to some urgent business with his father.
I suspect Prince Damien actually arranged for the messenger, allowing him an opportunity to slip out of the country gracefully. After the way I treated him, he probably didn’t feel like sticking around, and since he no longer had any hope of dipping into the Domerican royal coffers to support his gambling habit, he had no reason to stay. I’m elated to be rid of that viper in drag. My week’s looking better already.
I beg Ralston to jettison our studies for the day and instead go straight to the old barn for another fencing lesson. I assure him I’ve learned more than enough about dome governance to bluff my way through any situation. I also remind him that he owes me big-time for not warning me about Damien. We compromise by agreeing to spend the morning reviewing the Unicoi form of parliamentary democracy and to meet right after lunch for another sparring session.
The old barn is bright and smells of fresh hay this afternoon. One wall has been neatly stacked with new, green bales. We spend the first hour reviewing the moves Ralston already taught me. Then, he shows me a new attack called the Imbrocatta. He takes me through a few drills so I can get comfortable with the move. My favorite part is when he sets out some obstacles—a bale of hay, a sawhorse, and an empty barrel—and we practice some free-flowing fighting in between, and sometimes over, the obstacles.
“Good work today, Jade,” Ralston says, wiping the sweat from his brow with his sleeve. “I think you’re getting the hang of it.”
“I still don’t feel totally comfortable swinging a big blade around,” I admit, “but it’s getting better.”
“You study Tae Kwon Do at home, don’t you?” he asks, taking a seat on top of the sawhorse.
“Yes, ever since I was six years old. My mom had to force me to go, but I’m glad she did. It’s been a good sport for me.”
He tilts his head and smiles at me. “You’re a third degree black belt if I’m not mistaken. Quite an accomplishment, old girl. Why don’t you demonstrate some moves for me?”
“Here? Are you serious?”
“Quite. I’d love to see you in action.”
“Okay. Sounds like fun, but we need to clear a little floor space.” Ralston and I move the obstacles out of the way.
“All right then.” I pull off my boots, and position myself in the middle of the floor. “This would be more impressive if I were wearing my dobok—my uniform,” I tell him.
“I understand.”
I take a deep breath and stand at attention. I bow to Ralston and take my ready stance. After a cleansing breath, I begin. My routine includes a specialized series of stationary kicks, spinning kicks, blocks, punches, and knife-hand strikes. I designed and performed this routine for my last exhibition. The moves are second nature to me now, since I’ve practiced them at least a thousand times. The actions are powerful, yet graceful, and can be deadly in actual combat.
When I was a kid, I always wanted to take ballet. I’ve grown to love the flow of Tae Kwon Do, though. I tell my friends it’s “tough chick’s ballet.” It feels good to let my mind relax and allow my body to take over, performing the familiar movements. I end the routine with a Kihap—a loud shout. Then I resume my ready stance, and bow to Ralston once again.
“Bravo!” He applauds vigorously. “I’m most impressed, Jade.”
“Thank you,” I say, out of breath.
He puts an arm around my shoulder and gives it a squeeze. “I’ve heard that Tae Kwon Do is more than a martial art—it is considered a way of life by many of its students,” he says.
“That’s true.”
“What are its tenets?”
I recite the familiar words that begin every class. “Courtesy, integrity, perseverance, self-control, and indomitable spirit.”
“And do you subscribe to these tenets, Jade?”
“I try to. Why?”
“I was just thinking that they must have contributed to your being the strong young woman that you are. The situation you’ve found yourself in requires enormous strength of character, which you have demonstrated admirably.”
I don’t feel totally worthy of the compliment.
“I’m not sure I’ve always shown you the courtesy you deserve,” I tell him. “And I really haven’t exercised a lot of self-control when it comes to my feelings about Ryder. It’s just so hard not to care,” I say, my voice cracking. “I know I need to do better in that department.”
“Ah, don’t trouble yourself too much about it, Jade. It’s a good thing to be a caring soul. It will all be resolved soon enough anyway. Just keep up that indomitable spirit.”
“Thanks for the pep talk, Rals.” I peck him on the cheek and pick up my boots. “Let’s head back. I need a shower.”
“Yes, you do!” he heartily agrees.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Maria knocks on my door at exactly six o’clock. Mother has planned a quiet family dinner for us, but the royal family still dresses for dinner—even when it is just us three. Maria waits while I shower and wash my hair. She applies her special tonic to my wet tresses, and begins to patiently work out all of the tangles. She’s easy to be with and I’m grateful for her company.
“You are having dinner with only your mother and Prince Andrew tonight?” she asks.
“Yes. Prince Damien was unexpectedly called back to Dome Noir, so the palace should be quiet tonight.” I’m sure Maria knows more about the events of the past two days than I do, thanks to the palace grapevine. We play this little game anyway, where she asks me questions and I answer them, either confirming or debunking the latest palace gossip.
“The queen was not upset when you turned down the prince?”
“Nah. She probably thinks I could’ve been a little more tactful about it, but she agrees it was for the best.”
“The entire palace is buzzing today—they say the prince left with a broken heart.” She sticks out her lower lip making an exaggerated sad face.
“Empty money bags maybe. Definitely not a broken heart,” I tell her.
“No? They say you told him you would marry only for love and that… eh,” she wrinkles her nose, “… you did not even like him.”
“Well, that part’s true,” I say, amazed at the accuracy of the report. “What else do ‘they’ say?”
“Um, the rumor is that you turned him down because you are in love with someone else.”
“Oh, that one’s rich.” I laugh. “Who am I supposed to be in love with?”
“Some say Sir Jason.” She finishes combing the tangles from my hair and expertly weaves it into a single braid in the back.
“I like Jason. I’m not in love with him.”
“That is what I thought.” She twists the braid into a bun and fastens it with tiny pearl hair pins. She hands me a small silver mirror, so I can hold it up in back to see her handiwork.
“Some think you are in love with the young Chief Blackthorn,” she says matter-of-factly.
“What!” The mirror slips from my hand, shattering to pieces on the marble floor.
“Oh Princess, I am sorry.” She takes a towel and begins sweeping the shards of glass into a pile. “Be careful. Do not cut yourself.”
I crouch on the floor next to her. “Maria, stop for a minute.” I put my hand on her arm. “Why do they think I am in love with Ryder Blackthorn?”
Her eyes probe mine. “He is said to be very good-looking and very kind. They think that when he captured you, you escaped, but maybe your heart did not.”
“And what do you think?” I ask.
She smiles. �
�I think they are wrong. I think you are in love with the one who gave you this.” She touches the necklace at my throat. “A mystery man, eh?” She gathers the remains of the broken mirror and puts them in the wastebasket.
“Why do you think that?” I finger the delicate wolf-head pendant.
“Because you wear it always, but you hide it beneath your clothing. It means something to you that no one else must know—except him, of course.”
I just stare at her, unsure what to say. I want to tell her the truth, I need a friend to talk to, but I worry that she probably already knows too much.
“In any case, I think it is no one’s business but yours,” she says. “Let’s find a dress for you to wear.” She heads for the closet, obviously willing to let the matter drop for now. Not another word is spoken on the subject of my love life while Maria finishes making me presentable for the queen.
Ralston arrives at my door just as Maria is leaving. “May I see you for a moment, Princess Jaden?” he asks, assuming a more formal tone in the presence of Maria.
“Yes, come in,” I say, closing the door behind him. “What’s up, Rals?”
“I brought you a book.” He hands a small black volume to me. “I believe you will enjoy it.”
“Thank you.” There’s no lettering on the cover or the binding, so I open it to the title page. “La Vita Nuova—The New Life.” I read aloud.
“Yes, it was written in 1295, by Dante Alighieri for Beatrice, the woman he adored. A rather heartbreaking tale of unrequited love.” He smiles wryly. “It’s no Harlequin romance, but it has some fascinating elements.”
“Are you trying to send me a message or something?” I ask.
“No, no. Actually, I just needed an excuse to see you for a moment. I was hoping you would speak with your mother tonight about your desire to visit your father at the Enclave. You know our time is limited, so we must schedule the trip as quickly as possible.”
I grimace. “I know, I know. I’ll talk to her. But can it wait until tomorrow? This is the first chance I’ve had to spend some real one-on-one time with her since she got back. I don’t want to bring up anything that might upset her.”
“All right. Tomorrow is fine, but no later.”
“Thanks, Rals. And thanks for the book,” I call as he leaves my room.
I’m a little late for dinner. Mother is pacing impatiently. Drew’s already at the table snacking on some appetizers. They each look as if they’re going to scold me for my tardiness, so I head them off with breathless apologies and hugs for both.
We sit at one end of the extraordinarily long dining table in the family dining room. Mother signals the waiters, and bowls of piping hot soup immediately appear in front of us. Drew tucks into his soup, but I’m more interested in visiting with Mother. She looks a little tired and a little more stressed than usual this evening, even though this was supposed to have been a day of recreation for her.
“How was the hunt, Mother?” I ask, eager to hear the sound of her voice.
“Oh, I’m afraid it was rather disappointing. I’m glad Prince Damien wasn’t along. Our wildlife has been seriously depleted by poachers. I’ve asked LeGare to place extra patrols around palace lands.”
“That’s too bad,” I say. “Who do you think is doing the poaching?”
“I don’t know dear. Outlanders, maybe, or perhaps renegade Unicoi warriors trying to prove they can enter our lands whenever they wish. Another tunnel was found today in Hampshire.”
Drew momentarily lifts his head from his bowl of soup. “Mother, it’s probably just the forest people. How else are they going to get food besides poaching and stealing?”
“Yes, well, their numbers must be growing, based on the increased livestock and game thefts. I suppose it’s time to clean out the forests again.” She rubs her forehead. “It’s just so troublesome to have to house them all in the prisons until they can be rehabilitated or reeducated.” She shakes her head. “But really, darlings, I wanted to talk to you both about another matter tonight.”
Something in the tone of her voice makes Drew put down his spoon and focus on her. “What is it Mother? Is something wrong?”
“No Andrew, nothing’s wrong. It’s just that King Philippe and King Rafael were making overtures again at the last Coalition meeting about constructing a new dome.”
“They want to build a new dome? But why?” I say, secretly hoping they’ve decided to allow the Unicoi to have a dome of their own.
She takes a sip of water. “For insufficient reasons, in my opinion. Both countries are experiencing food shortages and serious overcrowding in the cities, along with the related rise in crime that those problems bring about. They want this new dome to be a sort of ‘supplier’ entity for the other domes—producing food and goods to be shared among the three dome nations—according to population, of course.”
“Interesting idea,” Drew says. “They’ve designed it to ensure they’ll be the major beneficiaries. Sounds as though they’ve thought this through rather thoroughly.”
“Yes. Unfortunately, I believe they’ve been meeting behind my back in an attempt to present this in a way that I could not refuse.”
“But you did?” I ask.
“Certainly I did. The structure of the proposed system is all wrong. It rewards them for having ineffective population and crime control. But worse, they propose to send all of their prisoners and political dissidents to this new dome as workers. Unpaid labor. It would be a sort of prison dome with wardens and guards to oversee everything. They believe it is the magical solution to all their social ills.”
“Seems like a pretty extreme solution,” I say. “Are their problems really that bad?”
“Oh, they’re convinced they are. I admit it would be desirable to have Wall’s Edge prison emptied of the worst inmates, but I believe the domes should at least attempt to control their population and crime problems by enacting stricter laws and enforcing them. I told them as much at the meeting.”
“How did they react?” Drew says.
“Not very well, I’m afraid. The conference grew quite contentious. Their position is that since the majority of the Coalition is in agreement on the matter, the Guardian should go along.”
“And if you don’t?” Drew says.
“I don’t know.”
She slaps the table with her open hand. Drew and I jump. “This is not supposed to happen! I am the Designated Guardian. Treaties governing this very situation have been in place since the inception of the domes. The dome plans and materials have always been under the protection of Domerica, and the Guardian is the only one who may decide if and when they shall be used.”
I’m a little confused by the conversation. Ralston has droned on about a lot of stuff, and, yes, I’ve tuned him out on occasion, but I don’t remember his mentioning my mother is something called a Designated Guardian.
“You don’t think they will try to force your hand, do you?” Drew asks.
“I certainly hope not. We’ve lived in peace for so long, it would be a tragedy to come to a confrontation over this issue.” She sighs, looking very pale. Drew and I exchange concerned glances.
“What does LeGare say about this?” Drew asks.
She looks at him with a pained expression. “What do you think he says, Andrew? He’s a soldier. He thinks we should defend our decision, even if it means war. Unfortunately, that is the way men usually react, which is why we have women rulers in this country.”
Drew looks wounded by her words.
“Oh dear, I’m sorry Andrew. I didn’t mean to paint you with the same brush. I actually want your opinion, and Jaden’s. That’s why I arranged for us to dine together alone tonight.”
“Sorry to disappoint you Mother, but I actually agree with General LeGare,” he says. “If you let them take advantage of you in this way, who knows what they’ll do next—try to take over the whole of Domerica, maybe. Where do they plan to construct this dome anyway?”
“Apparent
ly a strip of land exists in the country formerly known as Algiers, on what’s left of the African continent,” Mother tells us. “The explorers say the land is large, fertile, and stable enough to hold a dome and the soil is apparently free of toxins.”
“That’s awfully close to Dome Noir,” Drew says. “Maybe Philippe has other motivations.”
Mother nods. “Believe me, I’ve thought about that. I believe King Rafael is being callously manipulated by Philippe.”
