by Jon Monson
A servant came by with a salad dressed with fruit and nuts. Aydiin followed Byanca’s example, picking up the smallest fork and began to eat the green leaves. The dressing had the taste of raspberries and vinegar – it was much more palatable than the creamy dressing he’d forced down his throat the night before.
I guess I could get used to this, he thought to himself. He still preferred a good stew, but this separation of the vegetables was not as strange as he expected it to be. That same sentiment seemingly extended to several of the differences he’d encountered in Genodra.
“So is there a chance my marriage to you could backfire?” Aydiin asked. “Will people be upset that House Cavour has mixed its revolutionary blood with a royalist?”
“We thought of that possibility,” Byanca shrugged. “But that risk is smaller than you might think – the revolution really belonged to the people. The aristocracy just goes along with it. Besides, Genodra is expanding quickly, and good Salatian steel at a discount will help everyone forget soon enough.”
She hastily stuffed a rather large piece of lettuce into her mouth, spreading a small amount of dressing on her upper lip. Her cheeks went a deep shade of crimson, and Aydiin had to stop himself from chuckling. He was glad to know she was as nervous as he was.
Marcino and Lissandra approached the table, taking their seats. Winking again, Marcino picked up a fork and began attacking his salad.
“Having a good time, Aydiin?” Marcino asked before sticking a small piece of lettuce into his mouth.
“Of course I am,” Aydiin replied. “This isn’t the part I was dreading.”
Byanca looked up at him, and at that moment, servants brought the main course – veal with a fine white sauce. Aydiin ignored the food and kept his gaze on those beautiful green eyes. She smiled and made a gesture to the food.
“Byanca, did you see the Duchess’s new gown?” Lissandra squawked, cutting into her veal. Byanca gave her mother a blank stare and Lissandra nodded her head towards the head table where Duke and Duchess Farnese sat with a dozen or so other aristocrats. Aydiin couldn’t identify anything different about the Duchess’s blue gown from that of anyone else.
"Those puffy shoulders may be all the rage in Albona, but I’m determined to see that they don’t catch on here,” Lissandra said. “I’ll certainly have some damage control to do tonight.”
She shook her head and gave a slight harrumph. Byanca shot Aydiin a sly look, which Aydiin interpreted as “please ignore her”. His heart skipped a beat as he realized he was already beginning to understand the looks she gave him.
“I think her dress is absolutely stunning,” Byanca replied. “In fact, I think I’ll go see Maurice tomorrow about getting one just like it.”
“Don’t you dare,” Lissandra gave her a glare. “The woman has no fashion sense. You’re just trying to be a little twit, and I won’t let it upset me.”
Byanca only smiled in response. Any fears that Aydiin may have had of Byanca turning into her mother someday subsided quickly. He kept his eyes dutifully on his plate, hoping not to attract his future mother-in-law’s attention.
After a few minutes, Aydiin’s plate began to empty, and his stomach began to churn at what came next. As if summoned by his anxiety, the band’s music grew louder. Aydiin looked around in panic as several couples moved to the dance floor. Aydiin’s palms began to sweat.
“I think you two should get out there, set the example,” Marcino said before placing his last piece of veal into his mouth.
“Oh, yes, I do so want to see you two dance!” Lissandra said, close to giggling. Byanca shot Aydiin an apologetic look before placing her napkin on the table. Trying to remember his manners, Aydiin shot up to escort her to the dance floor, his napkin falling to the ground unnoticed. She smiled as she took his arm and they walked to join the already dancing couples.
“Oh, and try to talk about something besides philosophy,” Lissandra said as they walked away. “Babies, perhaps.”
Byanca sighed as they walked towards the dance floor. Aydiin had to keep himself from laughing. As long as he didn’t take Lissandra’s words personally, they were actually quite comical.
They’d missed the first song, so the two waited on the edge of the dancing for their chance to enter the floor. Aydiin’s pulse quickened and the veal suddenly felt as if it wanted to leave his stomach. He was more than fine with waiting.
The strings grew silent, and the couples on the floor bowed to each other. This was the moment, and Aydiin forced himself to not vomit. Dozens of couples, including Aydiin and Byanca, joined them before the band started to play another soft melody.
He grabbed Byanca hand in his own and placed the other on the small of her back. His feet began to move with the music, his entire focus on not trampling Byanca’s toes. He could feel the perspiration begin to bead on his forehead.
“Mother is nothing like she wants to appear,” Byanca said, and Aydiin raised an eyebrow. “Oh sorry, I was just thinking about what she was saying at the dinner table. Yes, she’s shallow, but she is far from stupid. She plays politics better than anyone else I’ve ever met.”
“I see,” Aydiin responded. “That makes sense. Some of the best players are the ones who try to make everyone dismiss them.”
“Agreed,” Byanca shook her head. “I’m sorry for bringing that up. So I was thinking we could take our honeymoon in the Capos Islands?”
“I wouldn’t be at all opposed to that,” Aydiin grinned and felt his ears increase in temperature. “I hear the beaches are lovely.”
“Oh, they are amazing! The sand is so soft, you don’t even need shoes. And the rock formations are amazing. Did you know it’s believed to be the home of Okuta before the Final Battle? He used his powers to craft the stone there into the most amazing shapes.”
“I’ve read the accounts, and I can’t wait to see them,” Aydiin replied, too focused on his feet to give a thoughtful response.
“You’re a lovely dancer, you know,” Byanca said, sensing his unease.
“Oh, you’re just being kind,” Aydiin responded. “I haven’t danced in years. I’m afraid I must be embarrassing you.”
“Not at all,” Byanca said. “You move with a grace that I haven’t seen before. Look around the floor. Most of the men are so rigid it looks like they are made of stone.”
“Well, I have worked hard at being agile. I was preparing for a life of adventure, after all.”
“I would so love an adventure,” she said. “Tell me, have you been on any good ones?”
“I’ve had my fair share. My latest was the best of them all,” Aydiin’s heart began to pound. In that moment, he decided to trust her. “In fact, the reason I’m here is because of that adventure.”
“Really? Well, I’m very glad you went on it then,” she replied, a strong note of sarcasm in her voice. “Did you find buried treasure?”
“Well, sort of,” Aydiin said, the perspiration continuing to accumulate on his brow. The room was much too stuffy for being as large as it was. “I was sent to a city in the north to take down a group of bandits. While I was there, I also took the opportunity to venture into the Soulless Dessert.”
Byanca arched an eyebrow, and nodded emphatically for him to continue.
“I found something – something I can’t quite explain,” he whispered so only she could hear. Before she could respond, Aydiin spotted a gentleman approaching them.
His blonde hair was slicked straight back, and his coat tails went to the back of his knees. His face was narrow and had a boyishness to it, but with a sense of self-importance. Aydiin recognized the look in his eyes when they fell on Byanca, and it awoke a jealous beast inside his chest.
“Lady Byanca,” the boy said, “may I cut in?”
“Oh, I’m sorry Bertrand, but tonight I won’t be able to dance with you,” She said, trying to not appear flustered. “Have you met Aydiin?”
“I haven’t had the pleasure,” Bertrand said, his face darkening as
he stuck a hand out for Aydiin to shake. Aydiin smiled as he took the boy’s hand, trying to diffuse the situation.
“It’s a pleasure,” Aydiin said. “I’m Aydiin, Prince of Salatia.”
“You don’t have to tell me who you are,” Bertrand continued. “I’m Bertrand of House Sforza. I’m offended that our dear Byanca has kept you from us.”
“Kept me?” Aydiin asked.
“From her best friends,” Bertrand responded. “You simply must join us – we’re all eager to meet you.”
He gestured to a group of young adults clustered in one of the corners. Byanca sighed and, grabbing Aydiin’s hand, followed the young man off the dance floor. Several members of the group turned as they approached.
“Good evening, everyone,” Byanca gave a small wave. “I’d like you all to meet Aydiin, Prince of Salatia.”
“So this is the famous Prince Aydiin?” A surly looking brunette said. “Are we supposed to be impressed by the son of a dictator of some backwater country to the north?”
Byanca went red in the face, but Aydiin chuckled at the comment, placing his hand softly on her shoulder before she could respond.
“Of course not,” Aydiin replied. “Indeed, it’s an honor for me to meet a group of such illustrious personages as yourselves.”
The brunette’s small mouth went into a pout, and another young man replied before she could say anything.
“Don’t listen to Lissy, as I always say,” the young man offered his hand to Aydiin. “My name is Luka of House Marzio, and this engaging young woman is my sister Alise. I think it’s a great pleasure to have you in Palmas. You seem like the kind of fellow who will liven up this stuffy old crowd.”
“Thank you Luka,” Aydiin smiled. “I’m really looking forward to getting to know each of you.”
The others in the group each murmured their assent, but only Luka seemed truly pleased with Aydiin’s presence. Two other girls had the same look stuck on their faces as Alise, and the other young man seemed to be permanently scowling. Aydiin was relieved after a few moments of small talk to see Marcino heading in their direction.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I’m afraid we need to be returning to the palace,” Marcino said with a wink at Aydiin. ”You two are welcome to stay. I could send Alonzo with the car to fetch you.”
“Oh, it’s alright, Father” Byanca said calmly. “We’ll return with you. I think something I ate isn’t quite agreeing with me.”
They bid the group farewell, and Aydiin heard Byanca make a small sigh of relief as they drew further away from the group. They walked out the doors in silence.
“So, those are your friends?” Aydiin asked as they crossed the lawn.
“Hardly,” Byanca responded. “Bertrand has been trying to court me since he sprouted his first chest hair. I’ve never really reciprocated, but he is nothing if not determined. I’ve had to put up with his group of friends at more balls than I would like to recount.”
“Oh good,” Aydiin breathed a sigh of relief. “I was worried that I would have to pretend to like them for the rest of my life.”
“Well you just might,” Byanca laughed. “To their faces at least. That’s one of the drawbacks of a life in politics.”
He helped Byanca into the limousine, and was quickly followed by the Doge. Aydiin was hoping to speak further with Byanca, but Lissandra dominated the conversation with complaints about everything from the food to the servants’ ties.
“Aydiin, you really should see the gardens by moonlight,” Marcino said as the car pulled into the palace courtyard and giving a quick wink to the young couple. “I know you saw them from the veranda last night, but they truly are breath-taking, and you need to see them before winter arrives.”
“That sounds lovely,” Byanca said as the driver opened their door. “It’s been such an exciting day – it would be nice to end it in such a quiet place.”
Aydiin exited the car and offered Byanca his arm. He knew what was happening, of course. The Doge wanted the two betrothed to have some time alone, and this was the best way to have such time without arousing suspicion. The wedding was in a few short weeks, and he would like as much time as possible with her before the big day.
Byanca took his arm with a smile and the two walked away from Marcino and Lissandra towards the gardens. As Lissandra’s continued complaints about the evening faded into the distance, Aydiin felt himself relax for the first time in hours. He hadn’t realized just how tense the evening had made him.
They walked in a comfortable silence. He enjoyed the weight of Byanca’s arm on his, reveled in the warmth of her body next to him in the cool night air. The moment felt almost perfect.
Now that he was walking among the gardens, he could better appreciate the work that had gone into them. White paving stones made paths through tall lush hedgerows, creating a sense of solitude. The grass was neatly trimmed, not a single weed could be seen.
Compared to the harsh deserts of Salatia, Genodra was lush, green, and almost cold. Of course, as a coastal city, Palmas never experienced true winters like he’d read about in some of the northern countries. Still, he could tell summer was over, and there was a cool breeze coming off the ocean this night.
“So that was a Genodran party,” Aydiin finally said, breaking the silence. “How long until we’re required to attend another one?”
“Much too soon, I’m afraid,” Byanca laughed. “At least until the wedding, we’ll probably be able to get away with one per week. After that, who knows? Maybe we could move out to the countryside.”
“I’d very much like to see the Genodran farmlands,” Aydiin replied. “Imagine living in an old manor house – no electric lighting, no indoor plumbing, just us and nature.”
“That sounds lovely,” Byanca said.
“I was going to say it sounds kind of like home,” Aydiin laughed. “Except for the nature part.”
“How are you adjusting to all the changes?” Byanca asked.
“Well, it’s only been two days, so I would say I’m doing about as well as expected,” Aydiin shrugged. “I will admit that taking a bath that doesn’t require servants carting in kettles of hot water certainly was much easier on my conscience.”
“Just imagine coming back from the Soulless Desert to have a hot bath at your finger-tips,” Byanca said.
“The day I returned to Maradon from the Desert was the filthiest I’d ever been in my life,” Aydiin laughed. “Seriously, I was completely covered in filth. My own sister hardly recognized me.”
“Aydiin, earlier when you said that you found something within the Soulless Desert – what was it?” Byanca asked, a certain hesitance in her voice.
“Oh, well, it was nothing,” Aydiin said. His resolve from earlier that evening to tell her everything had faded. Here, in the gardens, that chamber within the Lonely Spire felt so distant, the Stone he’d found felt irrelevant. That was the past. This was his future.
“But then why did you say the Sultan was punishing you for it?” Byanca asked.
“Because I took a risk – one that didn’t pay off,” Aydiin said. “My father isn’t one for experimenting.”
“But you also said that this adventure surpassed all your others,” Byanca pushed. “Your other adventures must have hardly deserved the name if ‘nothing’ was better.”
“Well, I braved the Soulless Desert and survived,” Aydiin replied. “It’s probably the harshest place known to man. I’ve never met anyone who has even set foot on those sand dunes.”
From the corner of his eye, Aydiin noticed a flash of color. He looked down and had to stop himself from gasping audibly.
His hand suddenly displayed the Markings.
A molten river of red ran along his hands and up his jacket sleeve before quickly transitioning to an electric blue. As it turned into a dark brown, Aydiin pulled his hand away and turned from Byanca.
“I’m suddenly very tired,” Aydiin said, hoping she hadn’t seen his face.
“
Oh, I didn’t mean to offend you,” Byanca said. “I just thought there was more to your story – I really would love to hear all about it.”
“I’m not offended at all,” Aydiin replied. “Please, it’s just been a very exerting night – I haven’t been to a party in ages.”
At that, Aydiin sped away towards the palace. After turning a corner, he lifted his hands in front of his face – the lines were still there. This had happened briefly on board the Oosman, but the Markings had faded after only a moment. This time, they seemed strong and vibrant.
He kept moving, his feet pounding on the plush carpet as he ran through the hallways. At this time of night, they were largely empty. He passed only one young maid, and she seemed too absorbed in dusting to notice as he ran by.
Reaching his apartments, he flung open the door and stumbled headlong into the dark living room. The curtains were closed, blocking the moonlight from providing any luminance. He ran his fingers along the wall, feeling for the light switch. After a moment, he made contact with it and turned it on.
Nothing happened.
“Stones,” he cursed quietly. The light bulb must be burnt out.
He stumbled his way through the completely dark room, the only light coming from the dimly-lit hallway and of course the Markings that covered his face and hands. With eyes struggling to adjust, he reached the curtains, throwing them back to allow the moonlight to flood the room.
He turned around just in time to see a shadow shift in the corner of the small sitting room. Adrenaline immediately rushed through his veins as he told himself it was only a trick of the light. He moved towards the bedroom.
His foot caught on some unseen object and he fell to the floor. Catching himself, he could see that the Markings had disappeared. Getting up to his feet, Aydiin decided it would be best to go find Byanca. She really did deserve an explanation after all, and he felt foolish for reacting so rashly.
Then he heard breathing. It was light, obviously stifled by a cloth, but it was definitely there. Aydiin moved towards the wooden chair he’d used the night before as he had attempted to fix his hair.
