by Vicky Savage
I touch the place on my cheek where he kissed me. It’s still moist from his lips. Not his type, huh?
FIFTEEN
I call for Gabriel, and he trots into the clearing, frisky and ready to roll. I fish Father’s sword from the bushes where I hid it and climb into the saddle. We’ve got to hurry if we’re going to reach the palace before rainfall. Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday in Domerica, it rains from three until five in the afternoon. It’s part of the climate control program maintained at the Dome Operations Center.
Gabriel keeps a brisk pace, but it’s no use. At exactly three o’clock the rain begins to fall, gently at first and then in buckets. We’re soaked by the time we arrive at the palace.
Dashing up the stairs to the front door, I’m looking forward to a hot bath and maybe a nap before dinner. Samuel waits for me in the entry hall, towel in hand. “Thanks, Samuel,” I say, laughing and blotting my face. “I misjudged the time.”
“Where have you been?” The voice comes from behind Samuel.
I peer over his shoulder to see Uncle Harold standing like the Grand Inquisitor, arms folded, waiting for an answer.
Unexpected fury flares inside me. The things Asher told me, the humiliating play last night, and Harold’s mistreatment of the Skorplings had formed a nice little pile of kindling inside me. His arrogance is the lighted match that sets it ablaze.
“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” I reply through gritted teeth.
“It most certainly is. You are heir to the throne of Domerica. You were outside the palace grounds, completely unprotected. I am Lord High Steward of Domerica and guardian of the realm. That makes your safety my primary concern.” He gazes at me intently. “You will not leave the palace grounds again without an armed escort,” he intones as if trying to work some Jedi mind trick on me.
“Excuse me? You are not my guardian, Harold.” I feel ridiculous standing here in sopping clothes, rivulets of rainwater puddling on the marble floor. But we might as well get this budding little power struggle out in the open right now.
“I’ll worry about my own safety.” I pat the sword at my side. He wants Warrior Princess, that’s what he’ll get. “I’m eighteen years old and heir to the throne of Domerica. I do as I please, and I answer to no one except the queen.” Tossing my towel on the floor at his feet, I stride past him. My heart slams, half from fury, half from fear of what I may do if he tries to stop me. He remains frozen in the hallway, seemingly stunned speechless.
Back in my room, I lock my door and gulp air, waiting for my pulse to slow. I listen for footsteps in the hall. I’m being paranoid, I know, but Asher’s warning this afternoon echoes in my mind.
Filling the bathtub with hot water, I pour in a generous helping of the princess’s lavender bath beads and ease my body into the aromatic soup. Gradually, my nerves unjangle themselves, and my mind wanders over the more pleasant events of the afternoon. It’s hard to believe I went to Paris today. It’s even harder to believe I could go there every day if I wanted to. My mind only begins to grasp the implications of being a Transcender. I can visit every exotic place I ever wanted to see, and explore amazing new worlds I never dreamed existed. Hot damn!
Troubling thoughts quickly attach themselves to the thrilling ones, though. Can I do all that and have a real life too? Can I be Queen of Domerica and take little Transcender jaunts on the side? Maybe even visit my family in Connecticut? I have to admit, that’s not realistic. Seems like an all or nothing proposition to me. I’m amazed about this remarkable ability, and a little freaked out about it. Can I be married to Ryder while straddling two worlds?
The thought of Ryder is like an open wound still waiting to be cleansed. I was supposed to come to some kind of decision about him today, and I just blew it off. Thank God I have a few weeks to figure this all out.
After my bath, Maria shows up at my door with an armful of lapis silk gown—my attire for the evening. She says it arrived from Dome Noir shortly after my disappearance and was tucked away in storage. It’s beyond gorgeous, with crystals running along the straps and crisscrossing the empire waist.
“What’s with the party dress?” I ask. “Is something special going on tonight?”
“I believe there is a visiting dignitary from Cupola de Vita in the palace.”
Sometimes it seems like a never-ending, pain-in-the-ass parade of visiting dignitaries around here. The good news is the attention will be on someone else tonight.
Once I’m dressed, coiffed, and made-up to look like a princess, Maria stands back to admire her handiwork. “Ah. Exquisite,” she says. “You must go now. Your mother and the others are waiting for you.”
Arriving at the family dining room, I’m directed by a uniformed butler to another larger dining hall a few doors down. The place is crawling with formally-dressed people chatting and sipping champagne. I attempt to slip in unnoticed, but all eyes turn simultaneously toward the door as I enter, and spontaneous applause breaks out. Deliver me! It’ll be nice when the novelty of my miraculous reappearance wears off. I paste on my best happy face as a small group of people gathers around me. The ladies curtsey, and the men bow and kiss my hand. Some of the smiling faces are familiar; most are completely unknown to me. They gush with words of joy at my safe return, some comment on last night’s play. I thank them all for their good wishes and scan the room for Mother.
She’s seated at the head of the room in an elaborately-carved chair. A striking young man in a formal suit with a red sash draped across one shoulder sits next to her in an identical chair. Mother smiles and nods at me. The crowd automatically parts to let me through. I square my shoulders and attempt to glide regally to her.
Mother and the young man stand. She greets me with a kiss on each cheek. “Jaden, you look exceptionally lovely this evening. I believed I’d never see you wear that dress.”
“Thank you, Mother. You look lovely, too.” And she does. Seeming to shine this evening, I silently hope it’s because she’s feeling better, and not because she’s putting on a show for the guests.
“You remember Duke Ferdinand,” she says nodding to the man next to her.
I smile and tilt my head. He’s extraordinarily attractive, in a Latin-lover kind of way, and he’s annoyingly aware of that fact. “Yes. So good to see you,” I say. I’ve never laid eyes on the man, but I remember from one of my lessons with Ralston that Duke Ferdinand is the nephew of King Rafael of Cupola de Vita. Ralston called him “rakish.” I guess that means full of himself.
I extend my hand to him, and he takes it in his own white-gloved hand, bowing low and brushing my knuckles with velvety lips. “I am honored to see you again, Princess. You have grown into a woman of remarkable beauty,” he says, oozing charm.
I’m not pleased to feel my cheeks grow warm under his gaze. The guy probably thinks he’s stolen my heart already.
“Where is Chief Blackthorn?” Mother asks. “I attempted to get word of the duke’s visit to you earlier today, but no one seemed to know where you were. I assumed you and my future son-in-law were together.”
“Nope. He’s still tied up in Unicoi Village,” I say, dropping my lying eyes so Mother won’t see.
“You’ve been home several days now, and he has yet to make an appearance at the palace. I find this quite indecorous,” she says harshly.
“But I saw him at the Enclave, Mother, remember? And he didn’t know about the duke’s visit. I’m sure he means no disrespect.”
I wilt under her irritated glare. “Duke Ferdinand,” I say, turning to our guest. “How are things in Cupola de Vita?”
He flashes me an I’m sexy and I know it smile, but before he can answer, Drew and Adelais arrive, and, thankfully, the conversation is deflected away from me. Mother introduces Duke Ferdinand to the lovely Adelais. Ferdinand seems delighted to have another heart to capture. He kisses her hand and dazzles her with his smile. Adelais practically puddles at his feet, blushing and batting her eyes.
Dre
w smiles indulgently. “Where’s Father?” he asks.
“He was called away shortly after lunch,” Mother says. “One of his patients took a turn for the worse. Professor Ralston went along to offer his assistance.”
“Ralston’s gone?” I ask. Ralston’s my security blanket in case I flub my lines at these little soirees. Guess I’m flying solo tonight.
“Yes. He said to tell you he’ll return tomorrow afternoon. Your father asked me to bid you adieu for him.”
I feel a pang of guilt that I didn’t get to say goodbye to Father because I was lunching in Paris. And I still have his sword. I’ll messenger it back to him tomorrow.
Mother sighs. “I don’t know why John continues to see patients in addition to performing his responsibilities as Governor of the Enclave. It seems unnecessarily taxing to me.”
“It’s because he likes treating patients more than he like being Governor,” Drew says. “He finds it relaxing.” Drew turns to me. “Come, Sister, let’s get some champagne and see if the dessert trays have been laid out yet. I could stand a little appetizer before dinner.” He holds out an arm for me, and I link mine through his. “Excuse us, please.”
“Should we ask Adelais?” I say.
“No, let her flirt with the duke. I have some news.” An unfamiliar gleam lights his eyes.
We scoop up champagne flutes from a passing waiter and stroll to the far end of the hall, where long tables are being laid out with trays of food. Drew doesn’t take much interest in the mouth-watering desserts, but seems anxious to talk.
“What is it?” I ask.
He grins. “We’re going to have a baby.”
“No way!”
“Yes. Now don’t tell Mother.” He leans in closer. “We plan to share the news with her later, along with Adelais’s parents. I wish Father were still here. We wanted them all to learn together that they’re soon to be grandparents,” he gushes.
A twinge of regret contracts my heart. “Well, maybe not Mother,” I say. “But she’ll be thrilled with the news anyway.”
The smile vanishes from Drew’s lips, and he ruffles his fingers through his curly mop. “Oh, god. Sometimes I forget she doesn’t have much longer. She always looks so … healthy. I guess I just expect her to go on forever. Or perhaps I do not wish to consider the alternative. Of course we know that she’ll likely never know her grandchild.”
At that moment, the dinner bells chime, and the guests begin taking their seats at the table. Drew slings an arm around my shoulder. “I’m afraid that very soon you will be burdened with much responsibility, dear Sister. And it is important for you to know this one thing—I’m glad that lot falls to Jaden the Warrior Princess and not to me,” he says with a laugh. “Enjoy your dinner.” He clinks his champagne glass with mine and hurries off to Adelais’s side.
SIXTEEN
These State Dinners are usually exhausting, but this one seems to go on forever with a seven-course meal and dancing afterward. I’m drained by the end of the evening. At least I was seated next to Drew who cracked jokes throughout dinner, mostly at my expense. He was in a particularly light-hearted mood about his good news.
Somehow I can’t picture him as the doting father, but I could never have pictured him as a prince either, until I saw it with my own eyes. He’s different from my Connecticut brother in some superficial ways, but really he’s just the same old Drew. The only uncomfortable moments occurred when he asked me about Ryder. I still haven’t told him the truth. I keep hoping things will get resolved before I have to.
The constant activity of life at the palace keeps the ache and indecision over Ryder at bay, but when I’m alone in my room, it weighs heavily on my heart. Climbing into bed, I close my eyes and try to imagine what he’s doing at this very moment. Is he lying awake thinking of me? I want him to hold me and tell me everything will be all right. But that’s not going to happen until I can look him in the eye and say I’m okay with the Erica thing. That I get why it happened and I forgive him. I’m not sure I’m there yet, but we need to resolve this soon, if I ever hope to get a good night’s sleep again. Cradling the wolf-head pedant in my palm, I concentrate on better times.
Maria wakes me in the morning with a breakfast tray and a note from Mother. Unfortunately, she has planned a day filled with events for the duke, beginning with a game hunt in one hour. She’s not feeling up to the excursion, so Drew and I will host the activity in her place. Ugh. There’s no way I’d ever kill a sweet little deer. The good news is I don’t have to worry about that because, even though Ralston gave me a few archery lessons last time I was here, I couldn’t hit the side of the Titanic with a bow and arrow if someone paid me a million bucks. Watching other people trying to kill defenseless animals isn’t really my idea of a good time either, even though I know we’ll use the meat and skins. But at least I get to be outdoors riding Gabriel for a few hours, and that’s some consolation.
The morning’s not so bad. We spot only a few deer and some rabbits. The duke is an excellent archer and skewers just about anything that moves, while I avert my eyes.
Lunch is the high-point of the day. We reach a shady little grove of pale-pink, blossoming trees just after noon. Two long tables have been set with snowy linens and the queen’s finest china and crystal. We wash our faces and hands in basins of warm water and dry ourselves with fluffy white towels provided by the palace staff. Then we’re served a delectable array of savory dishes.
Duke Ferdinand drinks a little too much wine and tells a couple of hilarious and embarrassing stories about his uncle, the King. Ferdinand is actually kind of nice when he’s not in snake-charmer mode, and I decide I like him. A trio of musicians provides relaxing music throughout the meal. The desserts are two of my favorites: pommera pie and chocolate truffles. I try samplings of them both, and I’m feeling almost contented—except for that empty hollow space where Ryder belongs.
It’s early afternoon when our party returns to the palace. Thankfully, the duke has some unspecified “meetings” to attend before dinner, which means I get some free time. A walk sounds good, so I search for Oz to see if she wants to come along with me and the Skorplings. We harness Fred and Ethel in their leashes and have great fun running and frolicking with them. They seem to love her, and she dotes on them.
Even though Osrielle laughs and cuts up with Fred, I detect an air of sadness about her. She speaks of her mother and home with such longing. I’d like her to know that she and her father will be going home as soon as I take the throne, but something tells me it’s best to keep that to myself for now.
Oz scurries off to dress for dinner, while I tuck Fred and Ethel in for a nap. Afterward, I make a quick stop at the kitchen to check for fresh pommeras. I swipe a few from the bowl without Cook’s noticing and amble quietly down the hallway, nibbling on my plunder. Duke Ferdinand’s voice carries loudly from a partially opened doorway. He sounds angry. I pad softly near the door. Okay, I’m eavesdropping, but this is the palace and I’m the princess, so I need to know what’s going on.
“What is it you are asking for?” Ferdinand says. “We’ve been over the plan many times. This was never discussed.”
“Things have changed.” It’s Uncle Harold’s tranquil voice. “It will be much more difficult for me to deliver the agreement of the Guardian now that Princess Jaden has returned. Accordingly, some commensurate compensation would be in order. I ask only that you render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar’s.”
Ferdinand snorts. “I assume you are Caesar in this scenario?”
Uncle Harold’s reply is too soft to make out.
“Are you even certain you can still deliver such an agreement?” Ferdinand says. “I’m told that Princess Jaden’s sentiments on this matter are in line with the queen’s. What guarantees do we have?”
“I will give you my personal guarantee, as Lord High Steward of Domerica. Even though Princess Jaden may immediately succeed her mother as Queen, let me remind you that my daughter, Osrielle, is a
mere heartbeat away from the throne.” Uncle Harold moves closer to the door as he speaks. I know I should run in the opposite direction before he sees me, but I’m frozen in place.
“Now, let us discuss the specifics of my proposal,” he says genially, and with a click, he pushes the door closed.
Whew. That was close. A passing glance into the hall, and Uncle Harold would have caught me spying on him. I slump against the wall, reminding myself to breathe. What in the hell was that all about? Uncle Harold said he could deliver the “Guardian’s” agreement. One of my mother’s titles is Designated Guardian, meaning she has control over the only existing set of plans and materials (on this earth at least) for building a new dome. That must be what they’re negotiating over. Uncle Harold’s crazy if he thinks he can get Mother or me, for that matter, to agree to the scheme King Philippe and King Rafael have cooked-up—to build a prison dome where the convicts would grow crops and manufacture goods to supply the other three domes.
