Under the Stars (11 page)

“What’s going on today?” I ask.

Daphne finishes laying out a few items on the back of a golden chair sitting in front of a vanity before she responds, “You’re goin’ ta impress the King, ya are.”

“Impress him?”

“That’s what ya came ‘ere to do, right?”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“Then no offense, miss, but why are ya still lyin’ around?”

She’s right. I shouldn’t be here soaking up the perfume and sophistication.

“Okay. I’m ready,” I say, sliding off the bed, which sits higher than my waistline.
 
“What do I need to do?”

“Well, for starters, ya can get dressed.” She points to the outfit in my hands.

“And after that?”

“I’ll be fixin’ ya up. ‘Air ‘n all.”

“Why do you want to help me?”

“It’s mah job, miss.”

The dress is slightly loose on my body, but that’s okay. I’ll need room to breathe in this humidity. Then she takes an iron to my curls, winding my hair around the circular frame and holding for several seconds. They bounce when she releases the handle.

The smallest hint of color is applied to my cheeks and lips, made to accent my face. Nothing is overdone.

I feel like a princess.

“You should really think about a job giving makeovers. You’re really good at this,” I tell her.

Her cheeks turn a rosy shade. “Don’ be tellin’ me that. I won’t have it goin’ to mah head.” But I know she loves hearing that she’s talented. Deep in the pit of my stomach, I’m certain she’d escape these masculine walls and settle elsewhere if given the chance.

I turn and turn and turn in front of the mirror, laughing, feeling good about myself, and hoping today’s events will go well.

“I’m to lead ya to the gardens,” Daphne says.

“What’s in the gardens?”

“They’re havin’ a jewel hunt.”

I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror; my eyes look like I’ve seen a ghost. “Jewels?”

“Jewels,” she confirms.

“So it’s like a treasure hunt…with gems?”

She nods at me like I’m not getting it. Oh, I get it all right. I just can’t comprehend why they’re using the colorful stones as prizes. How is it that King Zarek can afford to waste jewels, but doesn’t have the means to help other cities? Something has to be done about this. I just don’t know what I can do.

Daphne leads me out of the room and through several corridors before we reach the stairs that split into two sides. Both curve around a bulky tree that looks fuzzy. The steps meet up again, joining forces to continue to ground level.

“This is mah stop, miss. Yer on ya own now.”

“Thanks, Daphne. I’ll see you later?”

She winks at me and leaves the way we came.

I take a deep breath.

“Okay, Andy. You can do this. Just keep your cool. Act like you have some form of intelligence while you’re up against militant men and you
might
stand a chance,” I murmur to myself, feeling like I’ve completely lost it. God, I hope I don’t trip.

While walking down the granite stairs, I peek through my lashes. There, directly ahead, are an assortment of stylish men and women, schmoozing around the courtyard. Three marble angels are contorted into different positions at the center of the crowd, squirting water from trumpets into a bowl at their feet. Orderly hedges stand taller than me and probably form a pattern that can only be seen from an aerial view, or atop the castle.

Everyone stares at me. My cheeks flush. I don’t know if it’s a good thing or a bad thing that they’re looking at me like that. Perhaps they think I’m unqualified to speak to the King. Or maybe it’s because Daphne’s a genius when it comes to hair and makeup.

“My dear, I’m so glad you could make it,” King Zarek says. As he approaches, everyone bows. I feel like I should curtsy, but I’m not really sure how to do it. Instead, I incline my head to bend down slightly and hope it’s adequate.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to miss…gem hunting, is it?” I smile and feel my face burn, though I’m not sure why. For unknown reasons, when I look at the King’s face, I think of Malik. I miss his blue eyes. I miss him.

“—done it before?”

Too busy thinking about Malik, I don’t hear what King Zarek said to me. Oh, God. This is
not
the way to make an impression.

I blurt, “No. Though, I like jewels. They’re beautiful.” I don’t even know if my response makes sense.

But it evidently pleases him; the corner of one side of his mouth twists into a leer. He takes my arm, looping it through his. Subsequently, he leans over and whispers, “Then, by all means, you
must
be on my team, for I cannot stand to lose, and I have an inclination that you will have an eye for these ornaments.”

“Of course, Majesty.” This time, I bend my back leg and nod, hoping I don’t fall over and be named the next court jester.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” King Zarek proclaims, “pair off into teams of four. As I already have one on my team”—he winks sideways at me—“I only need two more.” He continues telling his people to group until everyone has formed cliques. Two young girls, probably around my age, side with the King and me. They constantly giggle over nothing. I hope they aren’t this way through the entire sport.

Having no idea what the rules are, I give close attention to the King when he explains. I’m sure more than half of these people have played the game before. Maybe even all of them.

Basically, the game is an Easter-egg hunt—except with far better prizes. The entire event is timed. Whichever group has the most gems at the end gets a reward. I can only imagine what that will be. I hope, if we have a choice, that I can choose supplies for Legora.

When King Zarek is finished explaining, a trumpet blares, signaling the start.

Our group is led away by the King. Most of the parties begin the game in the opposite direction as us.

“Why are we going this way?” I ask. The two girls behind me begin their stifled giggling again.

“You have much to learn in the ways of my kingdom,” the King says. “Though I love sports, I never lose.” He gives me one of those I-can’t-be-messed-with smiles, and it feels like there are hundreds of worms wiggling underneath my skin.

I decide to play along. “Tell me about your kingdom, then.”

He glances at me, the surprise soon fading. “What would you like to know?”

I shrug. “Anything. Whatever you want to tell me.”

“How would you like a tour of the grounds? Just you and me.”

We’re not even searching for gems anymore. The two girls that were with us have disappeared.

“I’d like that.”

A deep, raspy chuckle escapes his lips. “Later. After dinner.”

“What time?”

“I’ll send one of my men for you when I’m ready.”

Of course he will. He’s a King. He doesn’t escort people himself; he has others do his work for him. I barely nod, glancing toward the two girls striding toward us. It seems they’ve found their way back.

“Tonight?” he asks, reaching over and plucking an emerald from the hedge. He hands it to me, and then closes his fingers over mine.

27.

“Oh, what am I going to do, Daphne?” I jump onto my bed, sprawling out. My feet are killing me from wearing heels for two hours.

“Listen, miss. Whatever the King wants, the King gets. Even if he’s askin’ ya if ya want a tour, he’s basically tellin’ ya.”

“Maybe this will be my chance to ask him about materials, so I can go home.”

Daphne doesn’t speak. She continues to wander around the space, organizing everything I’ll need for this afternoon. Is that a sign? I mean, he’ll help Legora, won’t he? I hope I didn’t come all this way for nothing.
 

I prod some more. “Or is that a bad idea?”

“I can’t be tellin’ ya what’s good an’ bad, miss.”

I honestly don’t know what to do. I came here to speak with him about helping our town, but it seems like every chance I have to say something, he ignores me or someone thinks it’s a bad idea. Perhaps I should go back and tell the people of Legora he won’t help us, because he doesn’t seem to want to help anyone else that’s in misery.

But because I’m persistent, I’ll give it one more shot.

Daphne lays out another dress at the end of my bed.

“Is that for tonight?”

She nods. “We can’t have ya wearin’ the same thing.”

“Why not?”

“Ya jus’ don’t do it ‘ere.”

How bizarre. Changing clothes from morning to afternoon? Back home, I only had two outfits to my name. Here, there’s an armful.

“Whatever you say.” I exhale a long, drawn-out sigh.

“Don’t be nervous, miss. You’ll do fine.”

“I hope so. My town depends on me.”

I’m promptly ushered to feast at three-thirty. The banquet room is home to a table that seats at least fifty, if not more, with a fireplace on each end, sparkling glasses, lit candles, and footmen at each of the three entryways.

Embellished, white placemats lay below dishes with a gold border. Carrot-colored floras in clear vases are centerpieces for the dinner canvas. With them are golden sunflowers, which brighten the entire room.

Some of the guests have already taken their seats. Folded cards with elaborately inked names are placed above each individual plate. When I find mine, I notice it’s by the head of the table, the King’s chair. Was this planned? Or was it by some random luck?

Realizing that nobody has arrived yet, I wonder if there will be many joining us. A server stops by and asks if I’d like something to drink. I tell him water. He blinks, like it’s strange that I didn’t order champagne or an expensive blend, and then bows out through the door behind him.

One by one the dinner guests file into the room, taking their reserved seats. More so down the table from me. The main door is opened, and a man enters, bellowing, “The King!” Everyone down the table stands. I mimic them.

Once King Zarek reaches his chair, he flicks his hand and everyone sits. I’m so close to his left, I can almost taste his spicy cologne.

“Ah, Andrina. So glad you could join us for dinner. I hope the food enlivens your taste buds.” He smiles warmly.

“I’m sure everything will be delicious.”

“You haven’t forgotten about our little tour, have you?”

Noisy carts are rolled from one of the side entrances, and several footmen elegantly rush to pick up trays of food.

“No, I haven’t forgotten. To be honest, I’m excited to see your kingdom.”

The feast is spread before us on the table—seared poultry, steaming vegetables, golden rolls the size of my hand and a sauce to pour over whatever we choose.

King Zarek takes a stab at his vegetables and while chewing his food, he says, “I think you’ll enjoy the sites my territory has to offer. Much better than that diminishing town you came from.”

Why is he so against Legora? What did those people ever do to him?

“You don’t sound too enthusiastic about towns other than your own,” I say, hoping it doesn’t come off as too bold.

“It’s not that I don’t like them; I’ve never even met their leaders. Maybe if they would send more dignitaries, instead of civilians, I’d consider offering aid.”

As if I don’t feel out of place as it is, he just made it worse. He wants men of political influence to consort with him, not filthy people who are the equivalent of servants. We know nothing of power and what it holds. It’s not like we
chose
this life; we were born into it.

And not everyone can be as lucky as the King.

My throat has inflated, and I can hardly swallow my chicken. I’ve completely lost my appetite. Why is he going to all this trouble of making me play games and giving me private chambers and taking me on tours of the grounds if he doesn’t appreciate the effort Legora spent to send me?

“I don’t say that to offend you. I just think it wise for leaders to speak to other leaders. They shouldn’t send their people to do their business. That doesn’t bode well with me,” he explains.

I kind of understand what he’s saying, but I want to make sure I didn’t make this trip for no reason.

“If you knew the leader of Legora wasn’t coming to see you, then why’d you let me stay?”

“I always welcome guests, my dear. Perhaps if you enjoy your stay, you might change your mind about living here.” He pretends to poke at his chicken.

I open my mouth and close it again, having no idea what to say. Had I mentioned something about making Valyad my home? I don’t remember.

By the time I work up enough courage to speak, King Zarek is in conversation with the man beside him, whom he diligently refers to as “Governor”. I’m sure the Governor is next in line to the throne. Seems like it’d be a job overseeing Valyad. I mean, King Zarek can’t do it all by himself, can he?

I’m not spoken to again until the main course is finished and it’s time for dessert. The boisterous carts are rolled through the doorways, and yet again footmen scramble to line trays along their arms. King Zarek is served first, followed by the Governor. It appears that whoever has a title eats first.