by Vicky Savage
Ryder squeezes my hand under the table and leans in close. “I have never seen you look lovelier,” he whispers. My face flushes again.
“Where’s Ralston?” I ask.
“Catherine still considers him a traitor of sorts, so she has relegated him to a lesser table on the other side of the room. Do not be concerned for him, though, he is among friends and I am certain he will be well taken care of.”
The first course of our meal is briskly served by waiters dressed in black uniforms. The lights grow dim, and the evening’s entertainment is about to begin.
A group of young dancers files onto the stage. They position themselves around the fire pit. The boys are dressed in Cherokee ribbon shirts, similar to Chief Blackthorn’s, and the girls wear colorful blouses and skirts. Around the girls’ ankles are bracelets that rattle when they move. Ryder whispers to me that these are called shakers and that the children will perform a variation of a Cherokee stomp dance. Drums beat out a rhythm, and a singer calls out the moves, as the children dance in a circle around the fire. They are totally synchronized—not one misstep. It’s obvious that hours of practice went into their preparation.
When the dance ends, the children proudly take their bows. A girl of about ten or eleven walks shyly to our table and says she has a gift for me. I rise and gingerly make my way around the table, praying I won’t trip over my train. I carefully step down from the dais and go to her. She holds up a set of shakers for me. I take them and give her a small hug. The other children immediately flock around us. They’re so adorable and friendly, I hug each of them and thank them for my new shakers.
I’m barely back in my seat when the second course is served. Since I didn’t get a bite of the first course, I hungrily dig into the delicious looking roasted meat.
“This is very good,” I remark to Ryder between mouthfuls.
“Yes, rabbit is one of my favorites also,” he says.
Before I can come to grips with the fact that I’ve just eaten a bunny, a loud war whoop fills the air, sending chills down my spine.
The second group of performers emerges onto the platform. They are all men—large, shirtless, strapping young men wearing black and white war paint, loin cloths, and not much else. Each man brandishes a large, fierce-looking battle axe.
The men crouch low to the ground. Drum beats reverberate throughout the darkened hall, and the dance begins. It’s terrifyingly beautiful to watch.
“This is a traditional war dance, tey yo hi,” Ryder tells me. “That’s Alexander on the right.”
Their movements are enthralling and frightening at the same time. I can’t take my eyes off of the magnificent bodies swaying, whooping, and swinging their axes in a threatening cadence. The performance is gripping, and when it finally ends it takes me a moment to catch my breath.
Alexander approaches our table and bows to me. “We would like to make a presentation to Princess Jaden.”
Again, I trundle around the table trying not fall over my feet. Alexander holds out a hand to help me from the dais. As I place my hand in his, Alexander’s head whips around, and his astonished eyes lock onto mine. At that instant I know that he knows I’m not Princess Jaden. But how can it be?
Then it strikes me like a bolt from the blue: the white-blonde hair, the pale blue eyes, of course. “You’re part Cleadian,” I say, as he leads me to the stage.
“Yes. You know about the Cleadians?”
“I know everything about the Cleadians.”
He nods and helps me onto the stage. His face is expressionless, and I’m panicked—afraid he’ll expose me to Ryder.
One of the beautifully built young warriors presents me with a satin-lined, dark wooden box holding a ceremonial battle axe. The dinner guests applaud, and I manage to maintain my cool long enough to shake hands with each dancer and thank them for my gift.
Alexander helps me from the platform, his face still unreadable.
“I want you to know that I love Ryder Blackthorn,” I say, cold dread flooding through my veins.
“I know that, and I hope that destiny smiles on you both.” He bows and rejoins his brother warriors.
What in the hell is that supposed to mean?
Ryder takes the wooden box from me when I return to the table and helps me into my chair. The next dinner course has already been served—fish with some kind of corn preparation. It looks good, but I’ve lost my appetite.
Lilting Irish violin music begins to play as a new group of dancers enters the stage. The piece is a traditional Irish step dance, which is executed beautifully by the talented ensemble. The costumes are striking and the performers first-rate, but I’m still shaken by Alexander’s new knowledge of me.
Based on what Ralston said, I’m ninety percent certain he won’t out me to Ryder. There must be some Cleadian code that prevents him from doing that. The question is whether his loyalty to Ryder is enough to force him to break that code. That niggling ten percent of uncertainty is making me a little nuts.
“Is everything all right, love?” Ryder asks, searching my eyes.
“Yes.” I smile, and focus my gaze on the dancers.
As with the other performances, a gift is presented to me following the dance. It’s an exquisite, creamy white shawl of handmade lace.
“It’s lovely. I’ll wear it often,” I tell the dance troop.
“Would you care to join us for a reel?” one woman asks.
“Not in this dress,” I say. The crowd erupts in laughter and applause.
I return to my seat and place the lace shawl beside my other gifts.
“Coward,” Ryder whispers. “I would have loved to see you dance an Irish jig in that dress.”
“Walking in this thing is challenging enough. A jig is out of the question,” I answer with a lightness I do not feel.
“Coffee and dessert will be served soon, love. Afterward, I will introduce you to some of my friends. Perhaps you will consent to dance with me?”
“I’d love to,” I say, squeezing his hand.
Catherine wheels Chief Blackthorn’s chair to us so he can say goodnight. He reaches for my hand and pats it warmly.
“Thank you for being so gracious tonight,” he says. “You have lightened the spirit of an old man.”
I smile and bid him goodnight.
As the dessert course is served, several workers bustle into the hall and douse the burning fire pit. They fold up the stage into a more compact size and carry it from the room, leaving a large, open dance floor. The orchestra begins to play, and dinner guests leave their tables to dance or mingle with others.
“When you are finished with dessert, let us join the crowd,” Ryder says.
“Actually, I’m not very hungry. I’m ready whenever you are.”
He takes my hand and leads me onto the floor. We’re greeted by two smiling couples who are obviously friends of Ryder.
“Brother, introduce us to the princess,” a good-looking young man with long dark curls and sparkling blue eyes says. He’s dressed like a hipster—tight black pants, black shirt, black jacket and a couple of impressive tattoos.
He and Ryder shake hands by clasping the right forearm of the other.
“I was hoping to avoid introducing you to her altogether, Thomas,” Ryder says. “But I suppose since you come attached to the lovely Nunda, it cannot be escaped.” He turns to me, “Princess Jaden Beckett, these are my friends, Thomas and Nunda.” Nunda wears a short olive-colored lace dress with a full skirt, fishnet stockings and a headpiece with a sheer, black veil that covers her forehead and eyes. They make a stunning couple.
“This is Atian and Deidre,” he says motioning to the other couple. They too are dressed very hip—he all in black, like Thomas, and she in a short, strapless maroon dress with a black velvet sash.
I shake hands with each of them, and we exchange the usual pleasantries about the delicious meal and the amazing entertainment.
“Ryder,” a soft female voice behind us says. I’m thril
led when I turn to see my best friend Liv with her hand on Ryder’s arm. She looks sizzling hot in a sleek black gown with colorful beaded Cherokee symbols. Her silver-blonde hair is loose and shimmers around her perfect face.
“Good evening Olivia,” Ryder says. “I am pleased to introduce Princess Jaden Beckett.”
I beam at her. “Liv,” I say and hold out my hand—though I really want to throw my arms around her and hug her tightly.
She curtseys deeply, leaving my hand hanging in the air. “Olivia,” she corrects me coldly. Ouch! Her dislike for me is clear from her expression as well as her voice. She and her mother obviously have something against me.
She leans in close to Ryder and touches his arm again, “May I speak with you? Alone,” she asks, gazing up at him.
“Of course. Please excuse me,” he says to the rest of us. Liv links her arm through his, and they walk to a secluded area of the room.
Nunda says, “I know everyone must tell you this, but you have the most astonishing eyes I’ve ever seen.”
“I only hear that in Unicoi,” I tell her. “My eyes are very ordinary in Domerica.”
“And your gown is so stunning,” Deidre speaks for the first time. “Is it from Dome Noir? I think the most exceptional gowns come from Dome Noir.”
“I believe it is. I love your dresses, too. They’re very chic.”
I catch sight of Ryder and Liv across the room, deep in conversation. Liv reaches up and touches Ryder’s cheek with such abject tenderness that it hurts to watch. It’s obvious she’s madly in love with him. My heart constricts inside my chest, and I can hardly catch my breath. Ryder and Liv together? Only my worst nightmare—the man I love and my best friend.
Ryder gently removes her hand from his cheek. He shakes his head, saying something to her. He cuts his eyes to me and I quickly look away, embarrassed to be caught staring at them.
“Would you care to dance, Princess Jaden?” It’s Thomas with the glittering eyes.
“Yes. Is that all right with you?” I ask Nunda.
“I would welcome it,” she says. “Just send him back when you tire of him.”
The orchestra is playing a Viennese waltz, and Thomas is a wonderful dancer. I have to concentrate hard on my steps, which causes me to lose track of Ryder and Liv. When the song ends, I glance over to the place where they stood, but they’re gone.
This night is full of troubling surprises—Liv in love with Ryder, Alexander a Cleadian—what next?
The orchestra members noisily stand and file off stage, as something resembling a pop band moves in to replace them. Three guitarists, a piano player, and a whole slew of drummers carrying several different types of drums, take up positions on the platform. After tuning-up for a minute or two, they proceed to rock the place.
The music, with its eclectic collection of percussion instruments, is exotic and infectious. The beat vibrates throughout my entire body. It’s like nothing I’ve ever heard or felt before. My friends back in Connecticut would go wild for this.
Atian asks me to dance and I say yes—even though I have no idea how to dance to this music. I try to follow his movements so I won’t look like a geek on the dance floor, but he’s kind of free-form-all-over-the-place, and everyone else is too, so I just let the music move me, and go with the flow.
When I finally see Ryder again, he’s dancing with Deidre and enjoying himself. Liv is nowhere to be seen. Good! My dreams of a best girlfriend reunion have been replaced by a baser instinct—protecting what’s mine. I’m able to breathe normally again, and I actually begin to have a little fun.
As the music ends, someone behind me calls my name. I spin around to find Alexander, Makoda, and a willowy dark-haired beauty, who I’m guessing may be Makoda’s sister. Alexander’s war paint has been washed away and he’s wearing formal clothing similar to Ryder’s, his white-blonde hair tied back with a ribbon. He’s ethereally beautiful.
“Alexander, Makoda. Hello!” I say
“Princess Jaden, this is my wife, Meli,” Alexander says.
His wife? I still can’t adjust to people being married so young. “Nice to meet you,” I say, extending my hand.
“It is very good to meet you, Princess Jaden.” She shakes my hand. “Alexander has told me many good things about you.”
“That’s very nice of him,” I say. “Your husband is an impressive performer. His war dance took my breath away.”
She smiles shyly. “My husband has many hidden talents.”
The band segues into a slow and airy tune, and Meli turns to Makoda. “You haven’t danced all evening, Mak. Come dance with me.” He looks abashed, but reluctantly agrees. They leave Alexander and me alone.
“Alexander, I’m not sure what you saw when you took my hand, but I would appreciate it if you would not say anything to Ryder that might—”
He interrupts me. “You have nothing to fear from me, Princess. I have seen your heart, and I have seen his. They are the same. That you are a Transcender is no one’s affair but your own.”
Relief floods through me. “I’m not really a Transcender, but thank you for your discretion.”
He smiles. “I do not believe I could be mistaken about such a thing. In any event, it is sometimes best to keep some mystery in a relationship. Meli does not know certain things about me—Cleadian things.”
“I understand,” I say, wondering how Meli would feel if she knew about all of her husband’s hidden talents. I also wonder, uncomfortably, what Ryder would think if he knew the truth about me. Would it change his feelings for me?
Sensing someone at my elbow, I turn to see Ryder’s handsome face.
“Do not ask her to dance,” he says to Alexander. “I have not danced with Jaden all evening, and it’s my turn.” He pulls me into his arms just as the last few notes of the otherworldly music end. The singer for the band announces that the evening’s festivities have come to a close.
“I knew this would happen,” Ryder says. “We never got our dance.”
“It’s all right. Let’s go somewhere and talk for awhile,” I say.
“Unfortunately, I must take my father’s place in saying farewell to our guests. But I will come to your room later to wish you goodnight, if you are not too tired.”
“I’m great—wide awake. Just come up when you can.”
I scan the hall for Drew, but can’t find him—or Catherine for that matter. I noticed they danced nearly every dance together tonight. Catherine is at least three inches taller than Drew, but they didn’t seem to care. By outward appearances, they were totally into each other.
Ralston materializes by my side. “Did you have a nice evening?” he asks.
“Yes, did you? I heard you were seated somewhere in Siberia. I hope it wasn’t too awful.”
“No, it was fine. Not much of a view of the entertainment, but the food was good and the company delightful. May I escort you to your room?’
“Yes, thanks.”
We walk together to the guest wing.
“Rals, did you know Alexander is part Cleadian?” I ask.
He stops and gazes at me with wide eyes. “Oh my, I had forgotten. You danced with him?”
“No, but he touched my hand, so he knows. He told me he wouldn’t say anything to Ryder, though, and I trust him. But it’s strange, he called me a Transcender like that other dude did.”
I catch a trace of anxiety in his eyes. “Yes, well, I imagine that is the only way they have of classifying you… sensing that you are not from this world and all. Ah, here we are.” He deposits me in front of my door and quickly departs without even saying goodnight. Weird.
THIRTY-SEVEN
I hoped Ralston would have tea with me while I wait for Ryder, but I’m grateful for the time alone to rest and regroup. Although I loved wearing the princess’ stunning gown, I can’t wait to take it off. It’s not the most comfortable item of apparel the princess owns. I long for some sweatpants and a hoodie to throw on.
I rummage in my tru
nk for something comfortable and pull out a soft, white wool jumper. I slip it on and wrap my new lace shawl around my shoulders. I pull out the hairpins holding my tight chignon in place and brush my hair out straight. Much better. I replace the princess’s tiara in its velvet bag, and pack it away, along with her lovely gown. Then I curl up in an armchair by the glowing rocks and wait for Ryder.
A small publication has been left on the table, and I scan the headlines. The front page features an article about my visit, which the reporter calls a “Mission of Mercy.” I silently pray that’s what it will turn out to be, and not a total disaster. Who knows what Mother will do when I return. It’s a good thing she doesn’t subscribe to the Unicoi Times.
