by C. A. Sabol
She smiled that irresistible smile of hers, and he felt a familiar pain in his heart. “That was wonderful,” she praised his session. “You really are one of the best fighters I’ve seen.”
He felt the color in his face start to rise. “It’s nothing anyone couldn’t have done with the right training,” he dismissed. “How are you today, Princess? Did you have another good dream last night?”
“Yes, of course,” she giggled. “I even think you were there.”
“Then it must have been a good dream,” he joked. He took his ‘on-duty’ stance, straightening up and standing at ready. “Let’s be off, then, shall we?” He always walked with her down to the formal dining hall for breakfast. He loved it when she came and picked him up from class, so he could spend a couple more minutes alone with her, just talking. When he’d first arrived at the Palace, he’d only been able to see her for a few minutes once in a while. But now, as her Official Protector, he had the privilege of not only seeing her nearly all the time, but also watching over her, to keep her safe. Etoileon felt, in his own way, that Selene was like his own precious treasure.
And she was like a treasure, in some ways. She was the Princess, but that didn’t mean as much to him as others. Selene always was ready to smile, always ready to laugh, and she seemed to enjoy his company above the other students that attended the Palace Education center. Etoileon had first met Selene when she had been younger, only fifteen then. She’d been beautiful then, too, he’d thought. Some of the guys in the Fighters and the gentlemen in court would say that she was pretty, and some would even write her poetry or a love letter to her every now and then. Now at the age of eighteen, she was more captivating to him than ever. She was still shorter than he was, with her head barely reaching his shoulders. But she walked with a joyful step, and in her own nontraditional way, she was graceful at it. Her hair was short and today it was styled in a curled fashion; it was a look he felt didn’t suit her as much as her hair when it was let free.
Tonight was a big night for both of them. The Islander’s reception was tonight, and there was going to be a surge of new representation of the Islanders at the Palace. As much as Etoileon might have wanted to go to the city, he knew that there was no way that he could leave Selene to face all those gentlemen and elected Islanders alone. Since the princess was now eighteen, she was considered ready to marry. There would be a lot of offers from the Islanders, no doubt—there had always been a waiting list just to dance with her. Etoileon smiled as he imagined a whole group of isles going to war just to have Selene’s hand in marriage. He even laughed a little, causing Selene to look over at him.
“What’s so funny?” she asked. “It’s not the hair, is it?”
“No, no,” he shook his head. “It’s just ... I was thinking about the reception ball tonight. I was thinking about how all the Islanders were going to go to war with each other just to gain your hand in marriage.”
Selene laughed. “That would be funny,” she admitted. “Though it would be a little disturbing, not to mention unlikely.”
He grinned. “Well, I wouldn’t be surprised if they did,” he said. “You are eighteen now, right?”
Selene nodded, her face turning away from him.
“What?” He knew when something was wrong. “What is it?”
“Every day, Dorian gets letters in the mail concerning me, did you know?” her voice was soft. “They come from all over the world, asking how much longer he is going to hold off on getting me betrothed.”
Etoileon felt a lump forming in his chest. In that moment, it felt so hard for his heart to beat. “What does the King say?” he asked slowly.
“That the decision is ultimately mine, and I am not ready.”
“Oh.” He was relieved. “Well, that’s ... not too bad.”
Her head snapped around and her gaze was sorrowful as she looked at him. “I don’t want it,” she said. “I don’t want marriage, or to live on some Island, no matter how pretty it is or not. If I’m alone ... ” she broke off, unable to say the words.
He didn’t know what made him do it. He reached out, and touched her shoulder uncertainly, trying to offer her comfort. It was something that was frowned upon by the High Social Courts. “It’s okay, Selene. I’ll go with you, if you want.” He hesitated a moment and said, “Please don’t be sad.”
She wanted nothing more than for him to be with her. But she could never say it, never admit it to anyone or even let herself think of it, for fear of wishing for it too hard. She struggled to smile once more. “Okay. Let’s talk about something undoubtedly more pleasant.”
He smiled. “I agree.” His hand dropped from her shoulder, and he once again resumed his position as her guard. “Did you know that the Lunar Storm Festival is supposed to happen later this week?”
“Really?” Her eyebrows rose in surprise. “That’s a bit early for it this year. The Lunar Storms usually come right before the rainy monsoon season, which isn’t supposed to come for another couple of weeks or so, I thought.”
“Yeah ... it’s a rare phenomenon. Happens only once every couple of years, I hear. We’ll have to catch it.” I know she loves to star gaze, Etoileon thought, so that news should cheer her up quite a bit. If nothing else, it would give her something else to think of. A Lunar Storm was always something to be seen, and the festival at the palace never failed to entertain.
There were two Sapphiran moons, Shira and Kuro. Shira was big and round, covered with mountains of crystalline rock. The moon of Kuro was smaller, but while Shira managed to reflect the light of the sun to brighten the night, Kuro seemed to absorb the light onto its own glittering surface. Even though Kuro held steady an amber overcast on Sapphira, the majority of moonlight came from Shira. During the Lunar Storms, also widely known as the Moonbeam Festival, the gathering of the clouds over Diamond City and the angle of Kuro managed to shine enough light on Shira that the light was reflected and separated, almost like a prism effect. The rainbow of colors often varied due to the alignment of Shira, but it never failed to amaze the citizens. The colored effects on the sky lasted for only a couple of hours each day, until the rain clouds grew too thick to see through, and the monsoon season officially started. Legend said that when the Lunar Storms came earlier than usual, it was an ill omen. Science stated that it was due to unusually high tides.
“That’s amazing,” she said in an awed whisper. “I can’t wait to see it! When’s it happening this week, do you know?”
Etoileon noticed the deliberate change in the volume of her voice and was more than a little surprised to find that they had reached the doors to the Great Hall. He had not been paying much attention to their surroundings. Not a particularly good habit to make, he thought. I’ll have to watch that. He felt a wave of disappointment. His time alone with her always seemed shorter than usual.
The Guards there opened the door and bowed gallantly as Selene made her way through with Etoileon now the customary two steps behind her.
He leaned forward after passing all the guards and whispered, “It’s going to happen in two days’ time ... Your Highness,” his voice returned to normal as the King entered the room to the side of them. A flicker of fury sparked into his gray eyes as he momentarily locked gazes with Selene’s brother. It was well known throughout the palace that King Dorian was not fond of Etoileon. The exact reason was unknown to Etoileon, and he did not like the King overly much himself. But still, the King was the King, and if Etoileon wanted to stay in the Palace, he had to abide by the rules (or at least most of them).
Dorian greeted him with his usual sneer, and then turned to face Selene. “Selene, don’t you think you should find more useful ways to spend your time than waste your life on this Orphan Boy?”
Etoileon felt a small fluster of red on his cheeks. He was never quite sure why he still felt a sting when the King called him that. But it was Dorian’s name for Etoileon, and it still managed to make Etoileon feel slighted. “Hey, Selene,” Etoileon replied in sc
athing tones, “Don’t you think that the King should have some better diplomacy in regards to his household?”
“Really, you two, stop it,” Selene scolded. She never quite understood what it was about her brother and her friend. They had never quite got along, although she was certain in her mind that they respected each other.
“I’m just saying,” Dorian said, “That I think you should—”
“Dorian!” Selene stood up from her chair and interrupted him. “Tell me, brother, whether or not you are going to be setting the example for me in this, or are you simply going to continue your little squabble with Etoileon?”
Dorian glared at Etoileon, who frowned back. But Selene’s words stuck out, and managed to calm both of them down. “Selene, we have much to discuss,” the king said. “Tonight is the Islander’s Reception, as you well know. The Council has advised me to pass some sort of agreement in regards to whom you are to marry.”
There was a brief silence at the table. The servants ceased whispering to each other. All of the maids present shifted, their attention obviously captured. Even all the silverware seemed to stop clinking as all eyes and ears turned to the King’s conversation.
“Oh.” Selene began to grow increasingly occupied with her breakfast of Almonde muesli. “How interesting.”
“Yes. I—are you listening to me?” He broke off in mid-sentence as she leaned forward over the table, completely intent on her food.
“Yes, of course I am listening,” Selene assured him. And indeed she was. But she also feared the worst, and she did not want to be seen crying. There were people who went out into the city in the room. She did not want rumors of her instable emotions to raging throughout the city by noon.
“I was thinking also that you should be able to pick an Islander out yourself,” he continued. “After all, I know that there has to be some connection between you and the one who you will marry.”
“Yes, of course,” Selene replied with the same stoic tone she’d used before.
“Curses, Selene! I want you to know right now that you are not the only one going through this,” he interjected sharply. His fist slammed on the table, bringing Selene’s eyes to meet her brother’s. His teeth gritted together. “Right now, council is more than politely hinting that I am to be married as well. Having seen you safe to the age of eighteen, and the Islander’s reception tonight, all of my councilors want me to get married, so that I may have a family.”
“What’s wrong with that?” Selene asked. “You are the King, brother. And well past the marrying age. You are nearing thirty. Men today usually marry at twenty.”
“I am not yet thirty, for one thing; I am only twenty-seven. I am not sure I want to give up this life,” he remarked. “I like being the King. I like having you to be my heir. I do not really care for the idea of another woman around here. I remember all too well what having your mother marry our father was like.”
Selene was silent. No one ever talked about her mother—or at least, they never talked about her mother to her. No doubt stories of her mother were still reported throughout the High Courts every so often.
Etoileon felt his feet shift uncomfortably beneath him. He’d heard the stories that he would never tell Selene. Remembering the awful gossip, he could see why Dorian did not want the councilors to pick him a wife. The last time, they had done a lousy job, although the Queen had done her duty and Selene was here as a result of that.
“I do not know what to tell you, Dorian,” Selene whispered softly. Her voice seemed to settle the anger within her brother’s heart for the moment. “I am honored that you would have us to stay a family, but I cannot believe that you would so easily give up a chance to be happy with a wife, and maybe a family, of your own.”
“I can’t even think about it, Selene,” he admitted, keeping his voice low, so only she could hear. “But what am I to do?”
“Yes. What are we to do?” she asked. She turned her attention back to her muesli and said nothing more. Well, she thought, the notion of marriage is certainly depressing in this family.
Chapter 3
Another Rebellion?
THE ISLANDER RECEPTION was always one of the grandest balls throughout the year. The entire Palace was cleaned thoroughly, and then decorated almost to the point of gaudy. The bell boys, the maids, and the cleaning staff ran around hours before the guests starting arriving, polishing their silver uniforms, cleaning off every surface in the Palace, setting up the covered tables, the food, the drinks, the music ... everything had to be perfect.
All the different chefs from all over the world flocked to the Palace at this time of year. Chefs from Capricious Isle, from Sunset Island, from Jejuna, from Aril, from Kuna, from the Crescents, all of the islands sent the finest example of their cuisine for this international ball. It was well known that the newspapers would promote any Island delicacies they found appealing, and bash those they hated; the islands that were well known for their food were particularly hoping to gain worldwide acknowledgment once again. Besides keeping the peace, the Islander Reception promoted international ties, whether it was politics or pleasure.
The palace was strewn with lights, sweetly smelling flowers placed in highly priced vases, ranging in all sizes and set in all corners of the rooms. The ballroom had a clear floor for dancing, and the throne room was dressed up as the main reception room, where the all the varieties of food samples were in place.
The large orchestra and the singers performing tonight all arrived, their attendants in tow. All through his, Dorian’s handpicked planner was racing around telling everyone where to go, when they would be on, and what to do. This was considered to be the foremost reception of recent years; two of the royals were looking for spouses. The islands that married into the families, if it happened, could reap generations of benefits. Though the last Queen had been from the middle-class society of the Diamond City inhabitants, it was tradition that the marrying royal came from an island off the Continent. Something about being far away from the rousing life of city folk made islanders seem more pure, more favored among the courts, even though the city folk considered them more barbaric and uncivilized. Also, there was all that more gossip to go around. Everyone was eagerly waiting to see if any significant connections were going to be made tonight.
Ronal might have been anxious himself to go into the city, but he was looking for a way to sneak Cyerra into the Palace for the party.
He figured it would be no problem, seeing as how his family had been able to arrange for an invitation. Most of the High Court had been invited to attend, and he was from one of the most prominent middle-class families of the city. His bright blond hair was combed, his robes were in place, and he had enough currency with him to tempt Cyerra out of working tonight effectively.
She worked in a crystal shop, full of special, beautiful gems. There were many kinds of charms that were sold as well. There were good luck charms, love charms, friendship bracelets, promise necklace set, and even some helpful plant seeds that were sold here. Ronal had first seen Cyerra and had followed her into the store, thinking it would seem gallant of him to offer to buy her something she liked. He was a little surprised to find out that Cyerra was the assistant proprietor of the shop. She and her twin brother were Islanders who had been sent ashore to live with their aunt after their parents had both died years ago. Ronal had never met either her aunt or her brother—Cyerra’s brother was nearly nineteen, but he’d gone back to their island home some months prior to Ronal’s meeting with Cyerra. Ronal was more than a little relieved at that. Though he liked Cyerra a lot, he had a feeling that dealing with his own family’s reaction to his relationship was going to be enough for him. He was certain his city-bred parents would never approve of an Islander for his choice of woman.
She sure was beautiful, though. Her hair was a vibrant violet black, with bangs that nearly covered her eyes. It was cut in the island style, long and straight with varying lengths, shorter in the front and longer in the ba
ck. Her eyebrows were delicately arched, adding elegance to her facial features, especially her smile. Her cheekbones were high, and angular, giving her a grown-up look for someone who was close to nineteen years old.
He walked into the shop just a couple of hours before the pre-premiere of the Reception. In recent years, it had become more like a fashion show and an awards ceremony, with broadcasters constantly following in the rich people and digging up the dirt on who was doing what now and who had babies on the way. Ronal was certainly glad to be out of that mess. For a few short hours, he was allowed to be in the city.
“Cyerra!” he called out. “Where are you?”
“Shhh!” Cyerra hushed him from the corner of the room. “I’m over here, and my aunt is asleep in the back. If you don’t want to wake her up, be quiet!” her voice was a soft, harsh whisper, but her clear blue-gray eyes were affectionate as she caught his attention.
“Sorry,” he whispered sheepishly. “I couldn’t wait to see you. I wanted to invite you to come to the Palace tonight, for the reception.”
Cyerra’s eyes lit up, but the light in them faded as quickly as it had come. “Oh ... that’s so sweet of you, Ronal,” she started. “But-“
“I know, you’re working tonight,” he said. “That’s why I’m willing to buy your store out for the night. I’ve got all the currency you and your aunt will want for just six hours tonight. What do you say to that?”
“Ronal, it’s not the prospect of riches or the work,” Cyerra whispered. “There’s something else going on.”
“Oh ... oh!” Ronal’s face turned a slight red of anger and embarrassment. “There’s someone else you’re waiting for?”
“No! Don’t be silly,” Cyerra brushed the thought aside. “My brother ... he’s ... he hasn’t been himself lately. Not since he’s come back here. I’m worried about him.”
“Your brother came back from his Island ... today?” Ronal’s voice was filled with uncertainty and almost a tingle of disbelief. Why would her brother come back now? It was the worst time for an Islander to come, especially one who was not invited to the reception. “Why?”
