My mind starts spinning with ideas. Her ceremony is a day away and I have to make something perfect.
Jaleese has an old, lavender dress. That’s definitely Luna’s style, and it goes with the marriage custom ofthe brighter the better. The event is close to dusk, so something with longer sleeves will help with any cold the night brings.
Luna and I part ways after a few hours. She needs to get back and help with last-minute arrangements the council is forcing her to do, and I need my workspace.
Taking the same path home, I’m struck with glee. Not because of what Luna is about to embark on but because we’re speaking again, and a slither of that happiness is because she asked me for help with the dress. If one thing is going to be perfect about tomorrow, it will be the blushing bride.
“Move girl!” A loud, deep voice calls out from down the road.
Too occupied in thought, I didn’t see the carriage speeding my way, and despite me still standing in the road, they make no attempts to slow down.
Jumping so they can pass, I lose my balance and fall into tall grass. I know the grass is going to trigger wheezing, but before I can dig in my bag for the spray, the carriage passes and rolls into a puddle where it then shoots out water from the wheels, spraying my clothes and face. This not only happens once but three times, as three different carriages go by.
You have got to be kidding me. I wonder if all of it has to do with tomorrow.
I curse after them, but they are long gone.
8
ARIAH
Dry mud clings to my skin and clothes. Afraid of what I’ll discover, I don’t even risk touching my hair. I just had my wash day too. This better not dry out my curls.
Furious with whomever was driving the carriages, I trudge home, role playing exactly what I will say to them and how I will deliver it.
Up ahead, I see my front garden and come to a full stop. Outside my family’s cottage are the same three carriages that nearly ran me over.
Continuing on, I get a close-up view of the impeccable condition the carriages are in. The outsides are a metallic brown with a copper finishing, and elegant filigree designs run over the top, doors, and wheels. Each carriage also has an area where bunches of azaleas and fern have been placed as adornments.
There is no way these belong to anyone in Foxhead. We have wealthy villagers, but no one comes this close to this level of rich. Not even Morren Beetlerum.
My hand floats out to the shiny temptation, but suddenly a figure pops up and blocks me.
“What are you doing?” They wear a gold-and-black uniform with a symbol of a fox with a crown on its head. Royal colors and symbols.
Looking the carriage over once more, I inquire, “Who does this belong to?”
“What’s it to you? Keep moving.”
They turn to walk away, but I place my hand on their shoulder, stopping them. It isn’t my wisest move, considering the glimpse I catch of their hand going to their sword, but I have questions. “Firstly, you and your fellow guards need to learn that when someone is walking on a path you are traveling on, it doesn’t mean you just keep going at full speed, secondly, be appreciative that mud washes out. Thirdly, I live here, so kindly inform me of what you’re doing here.”
A head pops out of a carriage window. A woman, with large earrings that brush her shoulders, eyes me with caution. She is in all black with the collar of her frock wrapping tightly around her neck. Golden buttons form a single line from the collar all the way down to her chest, where they disappear and become blocked by the carriage door.
“Your parents are Galen and Adreena?” Her voice is light and alluring, almost like she’s trying to trap me in a trance.
I nod. “They are.”
“Leave her, Borric.” He does as he’s told and walks away. She then looks back at me and says, “You can go in now. Enjoy your time…while you can.”
“What is that supposed to mean? And who are you?” A smirk is the only thing she gives me before settling back into the carriage.
On the other side, near the gate that runs along the perimeter of the cottage, I find more guards. Seven in total. I speed through the garden and up a few steps, swinging the front door open.Two more guards apprehend me, but a woman from another room tells them to let me in.
Making my way into our dining area, my father meets my gaze first, his eyes widening with concern. My mother, on the other hand, looks furious. She sits across from a woman who has her hands folded. I know my mom’s looks, and she’s enraged.
“Ariah, dear.” My father gets up and gestures to the guest before him. “We have company.”Yeah, no kidding, Father.“Come give Queen Cayleen a proper greeting.”
My throat closes up and I’m unsure if it’s from my condition or because the Queen of Haymel is at our table.
