by Vicky Savage
“Of course not,” he says. “Again I apologize, but I hope to make it up to you this evening.” He smiles brightly. “I’ve prepared a small entertainment for you. Something I believe will please you tremendously.” He hands me a scroll of paper he’s been carrying in his hand. “Enjoy your lunch.” Bowing again, he exits the dining hall.
Father and Ralston both rise when I reach their table. Father sets my plate on the table, and Ralston holds the chair out for me. “Thanks,” I say to both of them. Settling in my seat, I reach for the scroll Harold gave me and smooth it out on the table. It’s an invitation of some sort.
The Honour of Your Presence is Respectfully Requested
at a Pageant in Celebration of the Glorious Return of
Crown Princess Jaden Victoria Hanover Beckett…
It goes on to give a time and place for the affair. I hold up the paper. “Have you two seen this?”
“Oh yes,” Father says, smiling broadly. “I, for one, would not miss it for the world.”
“I agree,” Ralston says. “It promises to be quite an event.”
I squint at them. “What’s this all about?”
“Perhaps you should wait and see. We wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise.” Father winks at Ralston conspiratorially.
They’re having fun with this little tease, but I’m not going to give them the satisfaction of begging for more information. “Fine,” I say taking a mouthful of roast venison.
After lunch, I stop in to see Mother. Sitting at her desk poring over files, she looks rested and serene. Normally, she discourages interruptions while she’s working, but today she invites me inside her office to visit awhile.
Unsurprisingly, the first thing she wants to know is what it was like living with Outlanders for nearly a year. I offer her an evasive sketch of what I imagine life in an Outlander outpost to be, and steer the conversation to the Cleadians, who I’m more familiar with. She’s never met Melor or Bithia, so I suggest we invite them to the palace sometime. I don’t tell Mother this, but I’ve wondered if the remarkable healing powers of the Cleadians extend to curing cancer. I’d feel strange asking them for so much, but if they were guests at the palace, maybe it would come up naturally.
“That’s a wonderful idea,” she says. “Perhaps we should invite them to your wedding. Speaking of which, when am I going to see my handsome future son-in-law?”
Another thorny topic of conversation. “A few things in Unicoi Village require his urgent attention,” I say. “But I think he’ll join us tomorrow or the day after at the latest.”
“Goodness, what could be more important than your homecoming?” she says irritably. “I’m sorry he will miss the pageant tonight. Harold has worked so hard on it. I trust he is simply clearing his schedule in order to spend more time with you.”
“Yes, Mother. I’m sure that’s it.”
Thankfully, Samuel shows up at Mother’s door to remind her it’s time for her medication, saving me from additional awkward questions. The doctor usually administers the meds in her room, and she naps afterward. I know Charles LeGare will be with her, so I don’t offer to go.
“I shall see you at dinner, darling,” she says kissing my forehead. “I’m happy to have you home. I missed you so.”
* * *
The major topic of dinner conversation is the pageant scheduled for later in the evening. I gather from the chatter I pick up that it’s some sort of play with actors. Could be interesting. With no movies or TV, Domerica is definitely lacking in the entertainment area.
As the dessert course is served, an announcement is made that the pageant will begin in thirty minutes in the palace theatre. Geeze, I didn’t even know we had one. I glom onto Drew and Adelais and follow them and the rest of the crowd into what turns out to be a very cool old theatre with an orchestra pit, a huge stage with footlights, and tiered box seating. I’ve never seen so much red velvet in my life. The seats, curtains, flocked wallpaper, even the bunting hanging from the front of the boxes is red velvet. I feel like a nougat in an elaborate Valentine box of candy.
Uncle Harold rushes to greet me as we enter. Apparently a special seat of honor has been reserved for me in the front row. I get nervous when Drew and Adelais leave me to join Mother in the queen’s box, but I strain to be congenial as Harold guides me to an enormous throne plopped down in the center of the front row. I pity the people sitting directly behind me.
Once the crowd is seated and the lights go down, the orchestra plays a lively overture. Marching to center stage, a page in medieval costume unfurls a large scroll and begins to read.
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” he says in a theatrical voice. “In celebration of the miraculous return of Crown Princess Jaden Victoria Hanover Beckett to Warrington Palace, we present a play in four acts.”
Applause. Applause. The curtain opens on a set that resembles the courtyard of the palace. An actress dressed as Queen Eleanor is seated on a throne, and a small girl with long brown hair sits on the ground at her knee. It takes me a minute to realize the girl’s supposed to be me as a child. The dialogue’s pretty corny. The queen instructs the child on how to be a wise, gracious, and merciful ruler. The girl listens raptly to her mother, but when the queen exits the stage, the girl impishly tiptoes to the bushes and draws out a toy sword she has stashed away. She proceeds to swordfight enthusiastically with an invisible adversary.
Actually, the kid’s pretty good, hopping on the tabletop, somersaulting over her invisible foe, and finally skewering him from behind. The audience eats it up. The scene ends with the child raising her sword high and declaring. “When I grow up I’m going to be Jaden the Warrior Princess.” The crowd goes wild.
Oh crap. A queasy feeling instantly descends over me. I scrunch down in my throne, wishing for a convenient way to just disappear. As Act II opens, my worst fears are confirmed. The actress playing me is older now and quite lovely. She sits beneath a tree, placidly reading. Sinister music plays as ten guys dressed up like Unicoi warriors steal behind the princess and attempt to abduct her.
I believe this is intended to be an intense action scene, but the audience roars with laughter as one giant warrior after another is flattened by the princess, using some poorly choreographed punching and kicking moves that I gather are supposed to resemble Tae Kwan Do. In no time, the stage is littered with combatants, and only one big hunky guy with black hair and no shirt remains standing—Ryder, I suppose. The princess mercifully spares him, and he declares his undying love for her. After a saucy kiss, she allows him to go free, inciting the audience to cheers.
Act III is Harold’s interpretation of my run-in with Prince Damien last year. A wicked prince steals a priceless treasure, shoots the hunky Ryder actor in the leg, and runs off to hide in a cave. Princess Jaden saves the day by defeating the dark prince in a mighty sword duel, rescuing her handsome boyfriend, who actually comes across as a gigantic wimp, and restoring the treasure to its rightful place. The crowd whoops and cheers raucously. What a pile of fargen dung. The only good thing about it is it’s almost over.
The grand finale, Act IV, has Princess Jaden battling a fierce fire using only her shawl, and then being Shanghaied by a bunch of scary-looking goons in moon suits—Outlanders, no doubt. She escapes from the clutches of the moon men, using some ninja-looking moves. Eventually, a group of kindly white-robed people stumble upon her wandering alone in the forest. She declares herself to be Princess Jaden, the Warrior Princess, and promises a reward if they will return her to her home. Delivered safely to the palace, she is welcomed back triumphantly by her adoring people. The curtain falls to thunderous applause.
I consider crawling out on my hands and knees, while the lights are still down and the audience is occupied with clapping and whistling. The actors receive a five-minute standing ovation, while I slouch cringing in my throne. Uncle Harold appears before me, beaming exultantly. Bowing, he takes my hand and helps me from my seat, turning me toward the crowd. My face is as red as my velvet s
urroundings. I’ve never been so embarrassed. Not even when I peed my pants at naptime in preschool.
Figuring my best option is to flee out the back exit before I see anyone I know, I tell Uncle Harold I’m going backstage to thank the actors. Drew will never let me live this down. Not in a million, trillion years. Turns out Jaden the Warrior Princess isn’t so brave after all. She doesn’t have the guts to face this crowd.
TWELVE
By some miracle, Drew doesn’t show up at my room to harass me after the pageant. I know he’s just saving up the grief for another day, but I’m thankful for the reprieve. The humiliation of the night’s spectacle, my worry over Mother’s condition, and my abject misery over Ryder, has me pretty worked-up. I spend the night alternately pacing my room or gazing into the faux fireplace.
My plan is to sneak out at dawn, before anyone else is up, and ride Gabriel to the lake. I need to put some distance between me and the palace. Princess Jaden jokes will be flying for days to come, I’m sure. I especially don’t care to bump into Uncle Harold, who I’d really like to throttle at the moment.
I dress in riding clothes and creep down the back stairway. Nodding to the stable hands, I saddle Gabriel quietly. Father shows up just as I’m about to congratulate myself on making a clean getaway. Mercifully, he doesn’t mention the play.
“Good morning, Jaden. Where are you off to so early?” he asks.
“Just taking a ride,” I tell him, omitting the part about the lake.
“Outside the grounds?”
“Probably,” I admit.
“Then you’d best take a guard with you,” he says, “or I’ll come along, if you prefer.”
I sigh. “I need to be alone, Father. To think. I can’t do that with a guard hanging around, or if you’re with me. Sorry.”
“As you wish,” he says. “But at least take my sword.” He unbuckles the scabbard and passes it up to me. “I’ll get another before I go out.”
“Thanks Father,” I say strapping the heavy weapon to my hip. “And thanks for not mentioning last night.”
He smiles. “However misguided your Uncle Harold may be, he means well, Jaden.”
Yeah, right.
It’s heavenly to be off-radar and on Gabriel’s strong back. Half the palace would be in an uproar if they knew I’d gone outside the grounds without a guard. Too bad. I need some time to straighten out my head. I pat Gabriel’s sleek neck and run my fingers through his course indigo mane, careful not to disturb the patch of burned skin. I love his musky smell and the way he prances when he wants me to let him have his head.
“Okay, boy,” I say, pressing the stirrups into his sides. He’s off like a bullet, hooves chewing up the ground. Though we’ve done this many times, his speed always takes my breath away. The wind tosses my hair, and my mind focuses only on the sensory rush—the crisp smack of the morning air, the racing of my heart, the connection between this magnificent animal and me. It’s something primal and spiritual, cleansing and validating. If life could always be this effortlessly joyful …
The silver sky has reached full light when the shimmering blue lake comes into view. I slow Gabriel to a trot. A man and two young boys stand near the water, fishing poles in hand, creel baskets at their feet. I steer away from them, not wanting company this morning. Guiding Gabriel onto a small path through the trees, we take a shortcut to the waterfall at the far end of the lake. When we reach my favorite spot, I dismount and let him wander down to the water’s edge to drink and munch on the sweet grasses.
The serene sound of the falls and the fresh, sharp smell of the water beckon me. I venture out onto a large, flat rock adjacent to the sparkling waterfall. Perching on the edge, I remove my boots and socks, and waggle my feet in the cool water. My fond memories of this place are now tinged with a slight melancholy. Ryder and I shared our first kiss here. It was sweet and sensual and life-changing for me. My connection with him was powerful and instantaneous. I’ve never experienced anything like it before or since. On another occasion, we stretched out together on this same rock and just talked about unimportant, silly things. Simply being near him was pure bliss. We laughed, and I was happy, very happy … for a short time.
Lying back, I close my eyes, feet still dangling in the water. I’ve been putting it off, but it’s time I reached some decisions. What am I going to do about Ryder?
“Beckett?”
The man’s voice startles me. Yanking my feet from the water, I twist around to see who it is.
“Asher! What are you doing here?” Asher always looks hot, but today he looks like a bad girl’s dream in his faded jeans, black shirt, and black sports coat. Indifferent to what anyone in Domerica thinks, he always dresses in modern styles, as yet unknown in this country.
“I told you I’d check on you soon. My exploration’s completed, so here I am. What are you doing out here all alone? Where’s the Boy Toy?”
I frown. “Don’t call him that.”
“My apologies,” he smirks. “Where’s the mighty Chief Blackthorn?”
I tug on my socks. “I don’t know,” I say, shoving my feet inside my boots. “I haven’t seen him for a couple of days.” I stand and face him.
He raises his eyebrows. “What’s up? Trouble in paradise?”
“Come on. Let’s walk.”
He starts down the little dirt path that follows the edge of the lake. “There’re people down that way,” I tell him. “Let’s go this way.”
He shoves his hands in his pockets and follows. “What’s going on, Jade? What’s wrong?”
I focus on the path, avoiding eye contact. “It seems my fiancé made a new friend while I was gone. He and Erica Hornsby have … well, hooked up.”
“Ah.” He blows out a long breath. “Sticky. Erica? Is she the raven-haired girl with the killer body and the face like—?”
“Yes,” I say sharply. “Thanks for reminding me. As if it isn’t already hard enough for me to get the image of them together out of my head.”
“Sorry. So, what does this mean for the two of you? Is the wedding off?”
“I don’t know yet. Ryder says he still loves me and still wants to get married. But I don’t know how I feel.”
“Okay, hold on.” He catches my arm and forces me to stop in the middle of the path. “Isn’t this the guy you’re madly in love with? Your one-and-only? Your soul-mate?”
“Yes, but—”
“But what? The guy thought you were dead. He still loves you and wants to marry you. What’s the problem?”
“Wait a minute. Why are you defending him? I didn’t think you wanted this wedding to happen. Don’t you want me to come join you and the other Transcenders?”
He laughs. “Well, yeah. I do. I guess I’m just standing up for my gender. Don’t you think you’re being a little harsh? I mean, what’s the big deal?”
I glare at him. “What’s the big deal?” I spread out my arms for emphasis. “The big deal is I thought Ryder and I had something special, something sacred, and now it’s got the sultry Miss Hornsby smeared all over it. Somehow it’s just not as immaculate as it was before.” I’m pissed that my bottom lip starts to quiver.
He nods. “I guess I understand. I’m sorry he hurt you.”
“Thanks.” I swallow hard. “It’s just that everything is pretty rotten right now. My mom’s so sick. Her enemies are trying to take advantage, and my uncle, who’s now living at the palace, is a total pain in the ass. It’s a little overwhelming.”
He smiles in a way that does a little number on my heart. “You need a break.” He takes both my hands in his. “Let’s do something fun.”
Fun sounds good. “Like what?”
“Let’s have lunch in Paris. It’s what I always do when I need some cheering-up.”
“Paris? Are you serious?”
“Yeah. We’re Transcenders, remember?”
I pull my hands from his, because it feels a little weird. “You mean like in Dome Noir, where Paris used to be?”
<
br /> “No. I mean Paris, France.”
“Like on my earth?”
“No. You can’t go back there for thirty days. I have another earth in mind. One where Paris is the cultural, financial, and culinary center of the world.”
I’m seriously tempted, but it’s completely impractical. “I can’t leave my mom right now, and besides, what’ll I tell everyone?”
“We’ll be gone a few hours, max,” he says. “No one will even notice. C’mon, it’ll be fun.”
“Can I go dressed like this, in riding clothes? I mean you look like GQ. I look like Horse and Hound.”
He laughs. “For one thing, those are pretty nice riding clothes, Princess. Tres chic. You’ll have to lose the sword, though. For another thing, as long as you’ve got the money—which I do—the Parisians don’t care what in the hell you’re wearing.”
