by L B Keen
Bird was escorted everywhere at her father’s orders. She could not even find solace in her bedroom. She stood in nothing but her undergarments: a white skirt and white strip of fabric that wrapped around her chest. She could hear the sound of the night owls beyond her windows.
“I command you move,” she growled, but Dua merely peered down at her from his oafish height and raised a single brow.
Fi entered the room carrying a laden down tray of fruits and bread. She set the tray down, speaking as she turned to face Bird. “I am sorry, princess, but your father, the king, wishes you to remain safe and able-bodied to attend the ball that will be given in your honor.”
“Honor?!” Bird repeated incredulously. “I am to be primped and prodded and forced to dance among men who’ve no interest in my mind or soul, but only in my father’s powers. Another auction, only this time, I am not worth less than a bug, but more than a swan.”
Bleakly, she moved away from the door, and Dua. Moving over to the chair that sat before the vanity, she looked at her reflection. “I find myself in no different situation than when I lived in England. Only…they do not beat you here.”
Observing the princess’ dark look, Fi quickly attempted to change the conversation. “Is there no man who has garnered your favor?”
“No! I would ne—” Bird paused midway in her incredulous exclamation when glowing red eyes appeared in her mind’s eyes. She lowered her head. He was not a possible candidate. A vampire from the very country she’d lived such a harsh existence. She could not restrain her thoughts of him and…the kiss.
She’d lain awake, her eyes closed, moving her fingers slowly across her lower lip, drawing his against hers. Even now, she felt her skin prickle at the thought of such cold savagery focused on her.
Their conversations had been brief, and yet, even still, she wished to approach him. Even as Fi stared at her, awaiting her response, she wished him to be here. When he was present, she felt as if he knew her, and just as she held secrets and darkness to her chest, so did he.
They both knew loss. She wondered silently who he’d loved that clouded his eyes so easily. Yet, even as his eyes were clouded, there was a spark that spoke of determination and power.
“Princess?”
Jerked out of her thoughts, Bird met Fi’s curious stare and cleared her throat. “No one, there is no one,” she said softly, allowing Fi to do her hair for the night. Even if she felt a longing, her mother would never approve. Her mother held a heavy hate for vampires and their like, and Bird couldn’t ignore that they both had suffered at their hands.
Chapter Twelve
England…
“So, you’ve made your decision.”
Queen Anne’s back remained turned on Gwen, as her hand busily worked in her prayer beads. “Do you know what your choice implies?”
Gwen gave a short nod, her hands together before her. “Yes. Talon will no longer be in the running for the throne.”
“Ah, yes, that is true, but…” The queen half-turned her eyes, going to the bite upon Gwen’s neck. “This also means you will no longer be an innocent in this battle. No longer a blind pawn to be moved across the board.” She fully faced her. “Talon will not be returning; a son for a son.”
Gwen did not flinch under the unreadable gaze of the queen. Instead, she straightened and gave a short nod. “I will bear the weight of his lost, and welcome my new husband as king.”
Lifting her chin in acknowledgement of Gwen’s obedience, the queen turned back towards the window, a cold smile coming to her lips. “Well, then there is no need for any further delay.” She stared down at the pond below, the beads clicking in her palm. “Long live the king.”
***
“Aryan!”
“Kahlia!”
Bird eagerly greeted her eldest brother with a tight hug. Aryan was a behemoth who looked more like his mother than his father. His eyes were a dark lilac, and his skin glowed from his recent travel. The dark-golden color causing his black hair to stand out sharply against it. He wore the white colored, dark blue embroidered cloak over his tunic and pants. His dark blue head wrap denoted him as the crown prince.
They stood in the hallway, waiting to be called before the guests. She drew away from him and smiled. “When did you return?”
“Just last night,” he said before giving her a curious look. “Only to find that the returned favored is to be married off.”
She scoffed at him calling her “favored”. “If I were so favored, I would not be forced to be here.” She sent a meaningful glance towards Dua. “He caught me just as I’d tossed the sheet over the balcony.”
Aryan’s expression turned blank before he released a hearty laugh. “Then it is a wonder second mother and father waited so long.” He placed a hand of comradery on her shoulder. “Father is not happy to be giving you away so soon after finding you. It is the customs that dictate a ball must be given when a woman can perform the maiden’s bow.”
Bird muttered a few choice words under her breath in annoyance.
Aryan observed his little sister. She was devastatingly beautiful. It was a great concern to his mother, the queen. Though Aryan had never thought to approach his half-sister, his mother worried over his concern and kindness towards Kahlia.
He’d gone so far as to remove himself from the palace so rumors would not spread. Still, his mother worried.
“You see her as a woman,” his mother insisted a month before he’d decided it was best to leave. “People talk, Aryan. They say your bond with her lacks sibling love, but instead love of man and woman.” Agitated, she’d waved away Fadi, who’d attempted to calm her.
“I need no consoling.” She’d narrowed her eyes on him, her worry clear. “I’ve no worry for your throne. It is yours, but I do worry for your heart. You may not see it, but I do. I know what you find in her, and it is dangerous. Her blood is pure, daughter of Ilia and R’or. The descendants carry not only an allure, but power, great power. I would not wish you to be held under such as she.”
Even now as he watched her animatedly speak of dumping her personal guard into the sea, he felt nothing but sibling love. His mother worried for naught. Still, it would be hard to convince her of such, as the woman held slight resentment and anger towards Kahlia’s mother, Osis.
She had been dressed in deep blue and the saree was embroidered with gold and maroon at the edge. The blouse held the same design, and her hair had been wrapped and coiled high into a bun. A single golden flower ornament had been placed in it as decoration. She appeared regal warrior princess.
She reached out a hand and laid it gently on his arm. Suddenly, her expression turned somber, her eyes darkening with the weight of her thoughts. “I’ve yet to regain the memories I lost.” She paused, swallowing. “What if there…if there is someone whom I’ve forgotten that…that I must remember?” She stared up at him, and Aryan could clearly see that though it had been three months since her servitude in England, the wound still remained. Suddenly, she dropped her hand from his arm. “I am being foolish,” she chuckled, avoiding his gaze. “If there were such a person, would they not have come for me? And I am even more foolish for thinking it. Who would come for a mere damphir?”
“PRINCESS KAHLIA OF KATARI, DAUGHTER OF THE HIGH PRIESTESS OSIS. RISE AND GREET THE HIGHNESS CROWN PRINCE ARYAN!” the vasir intoned in a loud voice.
Immediately, Aryan and Bird moved towards the high palace doors that led into the main ballroom. The doors opened, the bright light from within revealing a vision of golden gilded walls and high windows. The high candelabra and the torches along the walls gave shine to the decadent jewelry worn by the many guests.
The engagement of the favored princess had brought nobility from far and wide. From the depths of Africa to the forbidden country of China. All wore their countries royal garb and every single eye was focused immediately on the door that gave view to the star of the evening.
As soon as the famed Princess Kahlia was revealed, furi
ous whispering began. Her bearing was regal and her unreadable expression caught the attention of many men who wished to learn what she thought as she stared down at them. Her hand rested lightly on the crown prince’s arm. Prince Aryan. Her beauty and stature proving the blood in Katari was still as noble as ever.
When they finally began their descent down the stairs to the dance floor, guests surged forward, many of them men eager to earn favor with the beautiful princess. All hoping she would choose them as possible candidates to be presented to her father, who sat with his queen and second wife on a dais across from the long stairwell. His own maroon robes were opposite of his sun, as his were embroidered with a snake with wings, the official royal symbol of their people.
The crowd watched as both brother and sister approached the dais. Kahlia removed her hands from her brother’s arm, and moving forward, proved her training by performing the maiden’s bow to her father. Once done, her brother helped her to rise before he, himself, bowed.
Once they were done with the greetings, both turned towards the crowd as her father stood. “As it has been done in the time of the ancients, and is done now, my daughter will judge those here worthy of her hand, and on this night, where she becomes a woman, she will find her husband!”
A great cheer went up from the guests. Bird felt her stomach tighten as the eyes that observed them changed. She now appeared a prize to them. She inwardly shuddered.
“The one who gains my daughter’s hand in marriage will also gain three of the mines that all on earth know contain the precious metal worth more than gold.”
She didn’t turn around, but Bird could feel her knees weaken at the king’s generosity. Nausea swept through her as she realized her father assenting to the ball wasn’t truly for her, but to rid himself of the pestering foreigners who arrived daily to beg for his people’s life’s blood. What an easy way to give it away by leaving the judgment of such a thing to her.
She could feel Aryan’s gaze upon her, but she continued to stare blankly ahead, not even daring to breathe. Now she truly would not know who wished for her, and her alone. Or wished instead for the wealth her father had just gifted her.
***
Talon watched as a familiar expression he knew all too well etched itself into Bird’s face. Blank, unreadable. Though her smile remained, he alone knew her turmoil. His Bird had not changed, not at all. She still desired freedom, to be loosed and to wander. Yet, still, he also knew she desired to be taken, owned and claimed.
Her stillness was interrupted when her father, the king, descended from his dais to speak with her. Her eyes held no light, and Talon watched as the interlopers from several different countries circled them. He could barely stand it, the way their eyes raked her body with newfound interest.
Holding his stance against the wall, away from the dance floor where the small symphony had begun a quadrille, he lurked, watching her. He noticed those from the night before watching her, a clear greed in their eyes.
He moved forward, making his way through the ballroom, stopped each time by those eager to succor favor from him. He grew closer but kept his distance as he didn’t wish to catch the attention of the second consort.
A servant stopped before him and offered him a silver flute of something red. A special brew only found in Katari made from poisonberry and cactus water. Taking it, he tried to etch Bird’s smiling face into his mind. She would remain with him even when he returned, his plan being to return the following morning.
“She is not the traditional taste of the English, no?”
Turning around, Talon met the amused gaze of Signor Gutierrez. He moved his gaze to Bird, who was going through introductions of the Chinese ambassador. “She is far more in the taste of my own people.”
Taking a leisure sip of his drink, Talon focused his eyes on the red liquid in his flute. “I suppose it depends on whom you're speaking to.” He lifted his gaze to her and smirked. “I don’t believe you could handle her, Signor.”
“No, ella no es para mí. She isn’t for me, my friend.” He motioned with his hand towards Wilhelm, who stood little ways away with Dupre and his wife. He sent Talon a heated look before purposely cutting him by turning his back. “It seems you have made enemies.”
“I’ve become used to it,” Talon said, taking another deep drink, his voice taut. He handed his drink off to a passing servant. “It comes with being a man of my rank.”
“Then there is no need for me to warn you then.”
“And why did you feel the need to do so?” Talon asked, facing the man. They’d had little conversation over the few weeks he’d been here. The man was far too greasy in his opinion. “We’ve no ties of friendship between us.”
“That is true,” he said in a contemplative tone, staring down at his drink in hand before he smiled, his brown eyes glinted with a sharp intelligence Talon hadn’t noticed before. “Still, it is prudent for my country to be in the good graces of those who will hold power someday. From what I’ve heard, Prince, you’ve a limited supply of allies.”
Keeping his expression carefully blank, Talon thought on how to respond. It was becoming clearer that Signor Gutierrez held far more knowledge of the political situation in Britain. “What is it you know?” he demanded.
Signor Gutierrez didn’t appear intimidated. He slowly took his time observing the new set of dancers as the ballroom was filled with the strings of a waltz. “I would have expected this fete to resemble the gatherings in Saudi, but it seems King Alma and the queen wished to make sure those who are visiting feel comfortable.”
“Signor, you try my patience,” Talon growled lowly. He wasn’t in the mood to be pulled around by the nose. His cravat felt like it was choking him, and he could feel Bird as she moved along the ballroom. His skin grew clammy from the ache to touch her.
Signor sent him an amused look before he turned, fully facing him. “There is a rumor that your fiancé has allowed herself to be bitten by your younger brother, and that she has allied herself with him and your stepmother.” A curious glint came to his eyes. “If this is true, does this not make your natural claim to the throne void?”
His lips parted, but Talon was bereft of anything to say. It was odd his one key to the throne had been lost. Slowly, he turned his gaze away from Signor and looked at Bird. She was curling, moving across the floor in the arms of some faceless nobleman. She was smiling, but it did not reach her eyes.
“Has this rumor been confirmed?”
“Hm?”
Talon glanced, keeping his eyes on Bird, repeated the question, “Has the rumor of my brother and the Lady of Carthage been confirmed?”
“Oh, sí. It has yet to be confirmed, but they’ve been seen together of late. I simply wished to warn you. As I see it, it is an offering.” He pointed towards Bird. “If you do capture the hand of Princess Kahlia, I would not be in disagreement of exclusive trading rights for the metal that will come with her dowry.”
Amused, Talon wondered why Signor believed him capable of taking Bird’s hand in marriage. He asked this aloud.
The man laughed, his white teeth flashing. “I’ve noticed the way you watch her, and…the way she seeks you in the crowd. Though it was hard to see, it only took me a mere hour to notice that you two share an attraction.”
Silently, Talon contemplated his words. Seeing that the waltz had ended and that Bird had been released from her fourth suitor, he decided to approach her. “If you would excuse me, there is a dance I must claim.”
He gave a short bow before walking away. If what Signor had said was true, then he wouldn’t need to break the engagement, for Gwen had done it herself. Still, it had been his idea for her hand in marriage to lead to the throne. Talon inwardly knew that his father would claim his brother’s disloyalty and callous behavior not appropriate for a king. Aside from that, Talon couldn’t help feeling relief at the knowledge that he no longer was caught in a bond with a woman he did not desire.
***
Bird acquit
ted the dance floor as soon as she was able. Her jaw ached from her false smiles, and her throat ached from the near scream that remained lodged in her throat. She maneuvered herself closer and closer to the walls where a few of the young women of court stood. The music continued as she hid near a corner.
Watching those who continued to dance, she wistfully dreamed that she was at a London ball. She desperately wished she wasn’t the guest of honor up for grabs to the highest bidder. Her father and mother remained in their thrones, watching those who danced below, while her brother had gone to his mother, the queen’s, side. Bird yearned for this to all be over.
The lights were too bright, and the music too loud. She pressed a hand against her chest, turning away from the sight. Lifting a hand, she placed it against the glass of the high window.
The desert and lights from the city below stretched out towards the sea, beckoning her to escape.
“Are you feeling ill?” a familiar voice she welcomed said. Turning around, she found her gaze caught by the knowing eyes of Prince Talon. Her lashes fluttered as she glanced towards her mother, whose attention was caught by another matron. Turning her attention back towards Talon, she released a breathless laugh. “You came.” She wondered at her joy at his presence. “I did not think you would.”
He smirked, his expression amused. “I believe the invitation was offered to all those seeking a partner, and all those of royal or noble blood.” He stepped closer, his height blocking her sight from the room at large, causing her to only focus on him. “Did you wish me to not come?” he asked, his voice low and intimate.
“No, I—” Bird stopped short, her lips parted as she searched his face before she dropped her gaze and turned away. “I merely didn’t believe you wished to be around a princess who only brought you trouble.”
