“Guess what I found today while you were napping?” He pulled back from me even more, and suddenly I could breathe. “Well, I should say guess what I found after I talked with the Fate Maker?”
“You spoke to the Fate Maker?”
“Yeah, he stopped by my room for a bit.”
“What did he want?”
His eyes went blank for a second and then he shook his head. “He didn’t want anything. He just told me to make myself at home and go explore if I wanted. Then he explained a bit about Nerissette and the history and some stuff about my role as your consort.”
“What stuff?”
“Nothing major.” He shrugged. “Just that the whole World of Dreams is always ruled by women from the same family and that their consorts are advisers and the power behind the throne. That sort of thing. Anyway, guess what I found out?”
Excuse me? Jesse was going to be the what behind the where?
“Allie.”
“What?”
“Guess what I found out.”
“What?”
“You’ll never believe it,” he said, his eyes sparkling.
“Then tell me.” I grinned at the look of wonder on his face, even if he was being majorly annoying.
He leaned closer so that we were almost touching again and smirked mischievously. “A mermaid pool,” he whispered.
“Mermaids?”
“Yes, mermaids. I told them that the new queen was a swimmer, too, and they can’t wait to meet you. I promised I’d bring you to say hi after dinner.”
“You told them about me?” I asked, stunned that he would go out of his way to do something nice for me. Jesse Harper never did anything nice for anybody.
“Of course I did,” he said. “Who else would I bother trying to find a pool for? I can’t do more than dog paddle, and Heidi never actually wants to swim. All she wants to do is work on her tan.”
Jesse squeezed my fingers and didn’t let go. Instead, he tugged me toward a large set of double doors and turned to smile at me.
“That’s…” I wasn’t sure what to say. Jesse Harper had found me a pool full of mermaids? Just because? “That’s really sweet of you.”
“I know you like to swim,” he said. “I mean, you’re on the varsity swim team, and if this is creeping the rest of us out I figure it has to be weirding you out the most with the whole…well, you know.”
“Fact that I’m apparently the lost warrior princess of a fairy-tale world?”
“Yeah. So, I thought it would help.” He shrugged.
“What do you mean help?”
“Maybe if I could find you something normal—something from your old life—maybe it would make things feel less weird or something.”
“That’s really considerate.” I tried to subtly untangle my fingers from his. It was great that he was being nice and all, but this touching stuff was not going to happen. Especially not after that whole power behind the throne crack.
“So, anyway, once you finish letting all these stuffy old people kiss your butt and call you Her Royal Highness, the Golden Rose of Nerissette, we’ll go see it. I’ll even let you teach me to swim if you want.”
“Okay, but it’s just Allie, remember? We’re modernizing this royalty thing.”
“After you then, just Allie.” Jesse pulled the door open. He stepped aside so that I was standing alone in the doorway.
The room in front of me had six huge crystal chandeliers hanging over a table that could have fit every single person who lived on my street with seats left over. It was loaded with food, more food than I’d ever seen in one place in my entire life.
My head jerked up at the sharp scrape of chairs being pushed away from the table, and I stood there, dumbfounded, trying to take every bit of it in. There was a sharp cough, and I let my eyes wander to the people around the table, all of them in fancy clothes and dripping jewels, staring at me like I was an animal in the zoo. These must be the “hangers-on” that Heidi had been talking about.
“Her Royal Highness, the Golden Rose of Nerissette, the Crown Princess Alicia,” a gravelly voice said from my side.
“Um…” I looked at Jesse and then back at the room full of fancy-dressed hangers-on. I lifted my right hand and sort of wiggled my fingers at them. “Hi?”
Chapter Eight
There was a light touch on the back of my hand, and I glanced away from the now-standing nobles to stare at the wrinkled, green creature with floppy ears that came up only as high as my knee. It would have reminded me of my neighbor Mrs. Tucker’s beagle if she’d pierced the dog’s ears and put gold hoops through them. I glanced at Jesse and raised my eyebrows.
“Goblin,” he mouthed.
Great. Because today couldn’t get any stranger. I glanced down at the creature again, and when it looked up at me with its bugged-out eyes and pushed-in nose I smiled and tried to keep from grimacing or pulling away from its scaly hand.
“Thank you,” I said, my voice squeaking. I hoped the goblin didn’t take offense at my surprise. I wasn’t exactly sure how I was supposed to act around them. Goblins, I mean.
Then again, Mom had always told me to be nice to everyone I met until they did me wrong. We’re all same underneath the skin, Allie.
Did that apply to goblins? I was pretty sure it did, but maybe she’d only meant humans? It was probably best to just assume that she meant all creatures and leave it at that. Besides, did I really want to know what was underneath his leathery skin? Ick.
“Princess Alicia,” a smooth voice said.
I raised my head and stared at the group of nobles—who thankfully all looked human—still standing around the elaborate table, studying me.
The Fate Maker came forward, wearing a long, black robe with silver flames curling up its length. He held his hands out to me in welcome, acting like we were the best of friends and my arrival here had been all his idea. Or that he’d at least been told about it first.
“Would you care to come and sit?” he asked.
“Who are all these people?” I asked quietly.
“Your royal court, Princess,” he murmured in my ear. “Now, smile and look interested. Let me handle everything, and we’ll be fine.”
“Right.” Smile and look interested. Just like World History class.
I followed him to the front of the room, and he pulled out a chair at the head of the table for me. “Milady,” he said, bowing low over the chair.
I sat while everyone else stood. Jesse was standing at the other end of the table, facing me. On my right was another man with dark hair and black eyes, wearing long, crimson-colored robes.
“Your Majesty,” the man said. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”
“Thanks.” I stuck my hand out for him to shake, and he lifted an eyebrow at me questioningly.
“I am Melchiam, first of my name, Rach of the Firas.” He took my hand gently and brought it to his lips, brushing them across my knuckles.
The Firas. Okay, I remembered the stories about them from the book. Tribes of wandering desert-dwellers that worship the gods of fire. Right. Okay. I could handle this.
“My mother used to tell me Firas stories when I was younger. My favorite was one about a princess who’d fallen in love with a bard, but her family wouldn’t let them marry. Then her brother killed the bard, and she fed her brother to a dragon in revenge.”
“I know this story well, Your Majesty.” He let go of my hand and smiled. “Nasa and Dragon.”
“Really?” I used to imagine I was Nasa, and that I could feed my brother to the dragon. I didn’t have a dragon, or a brother, but when we lived in Florida my neighbor had a brother, and we used to threaten to feed him to their iguana.
“Nasa was my great-aunt,” Melchiam said. “It was my grandfather she fed to the dragon.”
“Oh.” I swallowed—probably not the best story to mention, then. “I’m sorry.”
“Not nearly as sorry as the dragon,” the man on my left said.
“What
?” I turned, my mouth hanging open, trying to take in all of his enormous form. Easily seven feet tall with long, shimmering blond hair hanging to his shoulders, the man could probably arm-wrestle a giant and win. Easily.
“Valtual said your grandfather had such a long beard that he was hacking up hair balls for a week. And he got indigestion.” The man chuckled.
Melchiam smirked. “I’m not surprised. He was most likely trying to tunnel his way back out.”
“But…” I gaped first at Melchiam and then at the other man. “Wait a second. You knew the dragon that ate his grandfather?”
“We are clanmates,” the man said. “I am Ardere, head of the gold dragon clan and the current Drakos of Dramera.”
“So you’re related to the dragon that ate his grandfather?” I glanced over at Melchiam. “And you’re okay with that?”
“I’ve more pity for the dragon, honestly,” Melchiam said. “From the stories I’ve heard, my grandfather was a difficult man. His sister wasn’t the first to try to kill him. She’s just the one who succeeded.”
A trio of fairies flitted over to us with a silver platter crammed with goblets balanced between them, and they lowered it slowly to the table. Both of the men took goblets and Ardere handed one to me as well. “Dragon’s blood?” he asked.
“Excuse me? You want me to drink what?”
“It’s a juice, Your Majesty. A rare delicacy pressed from the flesh of the ember fruit.”
“Oh, well, as long as it’s not…you know.”
“Of course not, Your Majesty. I’m not some sort of cannibal, drinking the blood of my own species. That would be barbaric.”
“Yeah.” I gave him a tight nod. “Barbaric is a word for it.”
“Although, since we’re talking about barbaric delicacies, I do believe that tonight we’re having authentic gold-wing soup for dinner. Made from the old recipe.”
One of the fairies stiffened and swooped close to his face. “May your wine turn rancid and all your eggs open empty.”
Ardere laughed and there were amused chuckles from others at the table. “No worries, little sprite,” he told her reassuringly. “I’m sure the gold color comes from the tanpaoli used to make it sweet.”
“Hmph,” the fairy huffed and then flitted away, dipping low so that she caught her bare toes in his goblet and then kicked the contents at him.
“Touchy things,” Ardere said.
“What’s gold-wing soup?” I asked.
“It used to be a delicacy in Nerissette,” a tiny, blonde woman with miniature hummingbirds in her hair explained, her voice high and tinkling. “We were quite famous for it in the Veldt. My mother’s recipe was superb.”
“And it’s made with…tanpaoli?” I asked. “What’s that?”
“It’s what you call sweet potatoes back in the World That Is,” a younger man with curly dark hair said. His voice lilted musically with what sounded like James Bond’s accent…if James Bond had left Britain and had been living somewhere else for a long time. Faded somehow.
“Okay, so fairies don’t like sweet potatoes?”
“No. Then again the original recipe called for boiled fairies instead of sweet potatoes. That’s where it gets the name—the boiled wings would turn the soup a gold color.”
“Eww.” I wrinkled my nose, and he grinned.
“That’s what I always thought. Thankfully they don’t serve that version anymore.” He nodded his head toward me. “Rhys Sullivan. Lord general of your army.”
“You’re the leader of the Army of Dreams?”
He straightened his shoulders, his back stiff, and narrowed his eyes at me like a giant bird ruffling its feathers. “Yeah, what of it?”
“You’re a kid.”
“I’m nineteen. That’s older than you.”
“Yeah, but…” I stopped.
“I’m sure the Rose was wiser on her first day than you are on your seven thousandth.” The tiny blonde next to him glowered in his direction, the silver hummingbirds in her hair chirping as they rubbed against each other.
“It’s just Allie,” I said.
“My apologies, Princess Allie.” She nodded toward me. “I never thought Lord Sullivan was mature enough to take control of the Army of Dreams, no matter Fate’s decree. Much better the role goes to someone strong and decisive, someone like my son Gunter.”
“Now, Lady Arianne,” the Fate Maker said. “We’ve discussed this. Fate has decreed that Lord Sullivan is in charge of the army.”
“But the oldest son of the steward of the Veldt has always led the Army of Dreams.”
“Then let him learn to protect the Veldt instead of making war inside of it,” the Fate Maker suggested. “If he manages that, which I doubt he will, then we can discuss more responsibility with the army.”
“You’re from the Veldt?” I asked.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” she said. “I am Arianne, Lady Steward of the Veldt.”
I had loved the pictures of the Veldt in my book when I’d been a child, but the woman sitting near me looked nothing like the great stewards the pages had shown. The stewards had been depicted as giant women in golden armor who rode enormous black beasts known as narva to spear rampaging trolls. But this lady looked more like my seventh-grade English teacher in a Halloween costume.
“She’s also mother to a boy who once bombed their own palace,” a pale-haired man with deep iron-gray eyes added. “Or did you forget the time he turned his catapult the wrong way and tore down your walls?”
“That was an accident, Woodsman,” she hissed. “At least my son would apply himself to the art of war. Yours would rather stay in his trees.”
“The men of the Leavenwald may prefer the woods,” Rhys said, “but we’ve never failed to come when this kingdom is in need. Each of Sir John’s men is easily worth a hundred times his weight in gold.”
I focused on the woodsman. “Are you Sir John?”
“Your Majesty.” The man bowed his head, his strange eyes never leaving mine.
“You can talk to the animals. And you have a mouse that traveled with you. Sir John the Gallant.”
“A mouse?” he asked.
“Gallant?” Lady Arianne asked.
“You’ve got a pet mouse?” Rhys asked. “You don’t feed it at the table, do you?”
“I don’t think so,” Sir John said. “Then again I don’t remember ever keeping a rodent as a pet.”
“So, Eamon isn’t real?” I asked.
The men at the table burst into loud roars of laughter as Sir John’s cheeks turned pink.
“Eamon? A mouse?” Rhys beat his hand against the table.
“It would explain so much,” Lady Arianne said between giggles.
“I’m sorry?” I asked.
“Eamon, Your Highness,” Sir John said stiffly, “is my son.”
“Oh.” I was really going to have to quit bringing up the fact that the only things I knew about this world had come from a storybook. “They were really great stories, though. He was an exceptionally brave, clever mouse.”
“Eamon as a mouse,” Rhys chuckled. “That’s just bloody brilliant. Thank you, Your Highness. That alone has made my evening complete.”
“Allie,” I said.
“Allie?” Rhys asked. “You want us to call the future queen of Nerissette Allie?”
Okay, this guy was strong and had a gorgeous accent but apparently was not bright. Not that I was particularly surprised by it, but what did Muscles-for-Brains think was wrong with calling me Allie?
“It is my name, and I happen to like it. Do you have a problem with that?”
“No,” he laughed. “No problems at all. Allie. I like it. But you are the future Golden Rose of Nerissette. Don’t you want to be known by something more dignified? Throw a couple of fancy titles in there for effect?”
“I think I can manage without them, thanks.”
“Whatever you say, kiddo.” He winked at me.
The Fate Maker coughed, glaring at Rhys. “
Perhaps the new crown prince would like to make a toast?”
We all shifted in our seats, waiting for Jesse to stand up as he stared in our direction, completely oblivious that the wizard sitting on his left was talking about him.
“Your Highness?”
“Huh?”
“A few words?” the Fate Maker asked, jaw clenched. “A toast?”
“Oh, God, I don’t know. We’re not really religious at my house.”
I grimaced. He really was an idiot. But then again he was an idiot who’d found me a swimming pool. Besides, I knew from experience, there’s nothing worse than finding yourself stuck in the center of attention with no idea what to do.
“I’ll do it,” the man on the Fate Maker’s other side said. He stood, his pale hair dull in the candlelight, his white robes glowing softly around him like flames.
“Thank you.” The Fate Maker gave Jesse a grim look, and Jesse sank back in his chair, silent, visibly wilting under the other man’s hard stare.
“I am Sarai, Your Majesty, Ambassador of Bathune,” the man began. “In the kingdom that stands near the Sea of Nevermore, the place where lost dreams die, we stand as the sentinels of the great forests of sadness.”
The Land of Hopeless Dreams. Where all you wanted but could never have stayed forever out of your reach. I’d always hated when my mother had told me about the remote strip of land that stood separated from the rest of Nerissette by the White Mountains of Anguish.
“Her Majesty, Queen Bavasama, bids you welcome and asked me to tell you that she awaits the day you bring about the end of the Waiting. May your reign be long and prosperous, Your Majesty.” He raised a glass and everyone else followed suit.
I took a small sip of the sweet apple-juice-like liquid and smiled. “Thank you.”
The Fate Maker picked up his wine goblet and held it toward me. “To Her Majesty, the Golden Rose of Nerissette, the Crown Princess Alicia Munroe, first of her name. May your counsel always be wise, your laws always just, and your reign both long and happy.”
“To the crown princess.” The other nobles raised their glasses to toast again.
I tried to look pleased, but if I had my way my reign wouldn’t be long at all. Whatever it is they needed me to do I wanted to get done and then make Esmeralda send my friends and me back home. We couldn’t stay here. We had lives to get back to that didn’t involve castles or dragons or anything of the kind. Besides, who would take care of my mom if I never returned?
Everlast (The Chronicles of Nerissette) (Entangled Teen) Page 7
