The Olive Conspiracy (17 page)

“
I don’t,” said Rivka bluntly.
“Well, I don’t know. Maybe I do. I don’t know who it was yet. She
didn’t say the Imbrian queen. It was just her way of trying to
insist to me that they were classy people, not common street
ruffians. She heard one of them saying to the other something about
the cookies they make in the palace, how they even have the Imbrian
royal crest imprinted on them before baking, and she asked them,
‘Wait, you’ve been to the palace in Home City?’ and he said no,
that their boss had sent them cookies from the palace in Imbrio. It
was some kind of holiday gift, but she’s too caught up in her own
drama to remember Imbrian holidays.”

“
That still could be Carolina that
gave it to them.” Shulamit was mumbling and Isaac barely heard her.
“Oh, please, please, please don’t let it be her.”

“
Why does it matter?” Rivka
scratched the back of her neck. “Anyway, I’m going back there while
she’s still ready to talk. Like I said, I’m almost there.” And she
bounded away without another word.

Shulamit looked at Isaac, and he saw sadness
shimmering in her eyes. “
Malkeleh
! Why these
tears?”

“
Isaac, she’s so terrible and so
beautiful.” The tears squeezed out and slid down her cheeks. “I
hate myself for loving her when I was younger. Doesn’t that make me
just as bad, somehow?”

“
Why do you say she’s terrible?”
Isaac petted her head gently, being careful to caress in one
direction only, knowing how fussy she was about her precious
braids. “Her airs are only natural for someone born to such high
office. She is only a little spoiled, like you were
once.”

“
But, no, it’s not like that!
Wait—don’t you know?”

“
What is it that I don’t
know?”

“
I thought Rivka would have told
you.”

“
Rivka doesn’t tell me your
secrets,
kindeleh
,” said Isaac. “But if it will upset you to
talk about it—”

“
No, I need you to know,” said
Shulamit. “I didn’t know you didn’t know already.”

“
Then tell me a story.” Isaac put
his arm around her shoulder protectively.

She leaned her head against him. He felt her
dry her eyes on his sleeve, and then she began her tale.

15. Six Weeks Shy of
Seventeen

Crown Princess Shulamit, six weeks shy of
seventeen, pushed aside the curtain on her side of the royal
carriage and gazed out across the marsh. The light of sunrise
illuminated the green-gold spikes, knee-deep in a vast sea until
they ended at the high ridge of the road. Wading birds scattered
when they heard the hoofbeats and the rattle of wheels, their
search for this morning’s crabs and snails interrupted. She could
see some of the crabs if she squinted, scurrying sideways with
their one swollen claw. Why were they like that? What was its
purpose?

“
Sweetheart, close that
curtain.”

Shulamit turned to face her father. King Noach
was a man of average height, lithely built but with a broad chest.
His head was bald to the back of his crown, but the
black-but-graying hair that started there flowed down in thick
waves to his shoulders. “You should look,” she told him. “The
marshes look really pretty in the morning.”

“
I already told you,” he countered.
“You shouldn’t let people out there see who’s riding in this
carriage. Knowing there’s a wealthy young woman here could put you
in danger.”

“
There’s nobody out there,”
Shulamit insisted. “It’s just birds and crabs.”

“
I’m just trying to keep you safe,”
said Noach solemnly. “You never know.”

Shulamit thought he was being silly, especially
because they were traveling with such a huge component of the Royal
Guard. But it was a little too easy to imagine villains popping out
from the mud, so she returned the curtain to its original
position.

Looking down at her clothing, she rearranged
her filmy, pink scarf and straightened out the ribbons that
decorated the end of her long braids. She ran her fingers over the
smooth silk of her dress and adjusted the trousers she wore
beneath. “Aba, can I have your shaving glass?”

“
What, again?” Noach’s tone was
teasing. “Don’t worry—you look lovely, and your clothing is
perfect. You’ll definitely impress Crown Princess Carolina. Maybe
even make her jealous of such an outfit.”

Princess Shulamit didn’t want to make Princess
Carolina jealous. What she wanted was for Carolina to feel the same
way when she looked at Shulamit that Shulamit did when she looked
at Carolina—that she wanted to lie down at her feet and die, or
grab her around the waist and stare into her eyes, or kiss her
until they both forgot to breathe.

“
Sweetheart?”

“
Huh? What?” Shulamit turned to see
Noach offering the mirror. “Oh. Thanks.”

She looked into the glass and saw a little
female replica of her father’s bushy eyebrows staring back at her.
The braids, however, were perfect, which was what she wanted to
check. Nothing stuck out at the top or had unraveled from the
braids themselves. She was satisfied with the rest of the ensemble
as well; from her ears sparkled tiny jewels of pink in the same
shade, and the white lace on her collar evoked elegance and
refinery.

Let’s hope I live up to my clothes
, the
little princess told God.

***

Shulamit and her father stood before the great
royal palace in Imbrio’s capital, Riachinho de Estrela. It rose to
the sky in towers of columned marble, striking and cold in contrast
to the comfortable, homey, winding palace network of one-story
chambers and courtyards that Shulamit knew from home. There was a
courtyard here too, with orderly, manicured gardens and artistic
patterns of pavement reaching out to the stone wall that surrounded
the whole affair. But it all seemed grand and imposing, like a
great chord played by every instrument in the band at
once.

She drew closer to her father and clung to the
arm he offered as they started their way up the palace
stairs.

King Fernando III of Imbrio came into view just
beyond the palace’s front pillars as the little princess summited
her climb. His hair was black but his skin strangely pale, and he
wore his beard bushy and long. Beside him was his wife, Queen Ines,
a folded fan in her hands. And beside the queen—
there she
was
, the most beautiful girl in the world, Princess Carolina.
Dark eyes with long lashes shone out from a pale face ringed with
waves of thick, black hair. She was tall, curvy, and broadly built,
her wide hips accented by what seemed like hundreds of petticoats
that broadened her skirt until she looked like a human flower. She
smiled at Shulamit when she saw her, and Shulamit, to her own
embarrassment, responded by grinning so hard she was practically
laughing.

Shulamit’s legs wobbled beneath her, and she
was convinced that if she wasn’t holding on to her father like his
arm was a rope swing on a tree, they’d turn into noodles and she’d
go sliding back down the stairs and land with a crash back in the
courtyard.

“
Fernando!” Noach dropped
Shulamit’s arm and stalked forward to clasp the other king’s hand
in his.

“
Oi! Tudo bem?
” said the
other king, which was
Hello, how are you?

They hugged quickly, and then Noach stepped to
the side to nod respectfully to Queen Ines. “Good morning! You look
beautiful today.” He spoke in Imbrian, which Shulamit found easy to
understand, at least as slow and booming as he was.

“
Thank you,” said Ines, beaming.
“We’re so glad to welcome you both! This is your first time here,
isn’t it, Shulamit?”

Her mind racing to catch up with the faster and
less enunciated speech, Shulamit nodded as she found her practiced
words. “Yes. It’s beautiful.”

Carolina stepped forward, and Shulamit’s heart
flew upward and banged into her brain. She realized she was gaping
at her open-mouthed. It didn’t get any easier to think when
Carolina reached out her hand and took hold of one of Shulamit’s.
“You’re here! Come on—I have so many wonderful things to show
you.”

Warmth spread across her face as Shulamit let
herself be dragged away after her. It was so easy to imagine that
the minute they were out of sight of the parents, Carolina would
pull her closer by that hand she held, spiral her inward, wrap her
other arm around her back, and kiss her against the marble columns.
Lord knows, she’d daydreamed about it enough times that it seemed
completely plausible.

Naturally, it didn’t happen, and the daydream
poured out and evaporated, replaced by a tugging ache. But at least
she was still holding her hand. Shulamit reveled in the contrast of
softness with confidence, and hoped her own hand wasn’t too wimpy,
or too grippy, or too clammy. “Where are we going?”

“
It’s a surprise!”

What if the surprise is that she loves me
back?
Shulamit sighed. She needed to calm down and stop
thinking about this and just enjoy the moment. Maybe,
maybe
,
things would happen later on in the visit. After all, she had
plans
. It was silly to expect anything this
early.

Hallways that she was too lovestruck to notice
whizzed by; she had the vague impression of gilded portraits and
statuary, and rooms hung all over with embroidered drapery.
Finally, they reached the outside again. Carolina pulled her into
the sun, then dropped her hand and pointed.

“
Look!”

Shulamit’s mouth fell open in an appreciative
gasp as she gazed all around herself at the person-high wall of
flowers. The bushes went on for quite some ways, down into a garden
path, thick and fluffy, green foliage covered with a generous layer
of brilliant pink flowers. They reminded Shulamit a little of the
hibiscuses from back home, but they were smaller and
darker.

“
They grow so high!” she exclaimed.
“And they’re everywhere!”

“
They’re azaleas,” said Carolina.
“And it looks like they match you. We’d better be careful as we
walk the path, or you might get lost in them!”

Shulamit looked down at her dress, then back at
the blossoms. She grinned awkwardly at the similarity.

They rounded a corner and began to sink into
the rhythm of a comfortable stroll. “I am not walking you too fast,
am I, Shulamit?” Carolina asked suddenly, her face earnest as she
turned toward the other princess.

“
No, I’m good!” Shulamit could feel
herself answering too quickly, too enthusiastically, but never mind
that. She was in too deep to care. “It’s all so
beautiful.”

“
Because I remember that you
sometimes feel ill,” Carolina continued. “How is your—” And here,
she said a word in Imbrian that Shulamit didn’t
understand.

“
I am—what?” Shulamit bit her lip,
her mind racing over her language lessons.

“
Your—
here
.” Carolina patted
her own stomach delicately through the layers of ribbons and
petticoats. “When my family visited your palace, you were sometimes
ill.”

“
Oh.” Shulamit twiddled the end of
one of her braids absently. “I’ve been good during the trip so
far.” Her face flushed at the idea that her mysterious stomach
upsets had made such a big impression on Carolina that she was
still thinking about them, months later. She found reassurance in
her relative health of the past few days, when she’d mostly been
sticking to a diet of rice and fish because that’s what they grew
and caught and served around here.

Maybe that was the key to her misery—simple
foods. When she got home she vowed to shut herself away in the
palace library with a piece of pita and a mug of chicken
broth.

“
All this sun will be good for you,
I hope!” Carolina looked around herself at the garden. “Oh, I am
foolish. You come from such a sunny place. I forgot. Our winters
are so bleak and dull. The sky is white. Can you imagine it? White
as cotton, and some of the trees become bare as—”

Shulamit couldn’t place the Imbrian word. “I’m
sorry, what is that?”

Carolina ran her fingers down her own arm, then
tapped herself, hard. “Bones. All the bones in the body,
together.”

Skeleton
, thought Shulamit in Perachi.
“Maybe you should spend the winter with us every year,” she found
herself blurting out, then wanted to hide behind her scarf and
blend in with the flowers in horror at her own
forwardness.

“
Our winter makes us love our
spring,” said Carolina. “Here, I will show you more beauty.” She
gestured to a group of bushes of a different type than the walls of
azaleas all around. Instead of flimsy, their leaves were sturdy and
glossy, larger, and of a darker green. The blooms that decorated
their branches were the same brilliant pink, but they looked more
like roses. “This is a camellia.”

Shulamit smiled and nodded appreciatively, and
trotted along after Carolina as she floated from flower to flower.
Not all of the azaleas were pink; they reached a corridor where
they were all white, and then a pale and watery lilac. Hyacinths of
purple and yellow rose out of the earth in cheerful
clusters.