He wears a distracting fake beard and mustache. He thought he looked too much like Marcel and me, which he does, and to blend in as one of the crew he decided to disguise himself. He even changed his clothes and accent, for whatever reason, and has fully committed to the part.
“You look ridiculous.” My vision shifts back out the window as I watch the gate open for us, anxious for the task ahead. “We could have just said you were a cousin or something.”
Deean waves me off. “No relationship is best. And me being your courtier means I still have access to the important things.” Esha coughs a little before taking a sip of water. “You don’t mind, right, Esha?”
Another part of his grand plan is to wait on me hand and foot. Well, pretend to. Meaning Esha gets to enjoy a little time off and I’m going to end up doing everything myself.
“Also I was thinking”—Deean plays with his disguise—“maybe it would be best if you call me Eli during this trip. Having two Esha’s might be confusing.”
“Eli? Like your old dog?” I question the hilarity of it all.
“Figured it would do for the time being.”
“I suppose it works. Although, it shouldn’t be confusing because there is in fact only one Esha. The only one making this difficult is you.”
Deean comes closer and grips my shoulder. “You know this will be twice as fun with me here. Just you and Marcel…” He grimaces at the thought. “How boring that would have been. You know he’s no fun.”
There is a little pride in knowing I’m the other fun brother, especially coming from the king of fun himself.
The carriage jolts forward, and we move up a gravel path towards the cream-colored castle, almost like a pale yellow when white flower petals die. The rooftops are a washed-out black, nearly gray, giving it an old, almost eerie feel.
From the window, I see a woman standing in front of dozens of people. Her hands are delicately folded in front of her as she waits for her guests. She wears an off-white dress with traces of olive green, Saden’s colors. Her skin looks like it’s been coated in amber and the strands of her hair are the orange of a dying fire, nearing a dark red. Her thin lips form a straight line, and she doesn’t look excited for this visit, making two of us.
I stretch my neck and flex my fingers. The muscles in my body seemingly tense, and the thrumming of my heart finds a faster beat.
“I thought she would look older,” Deean says, looking through the window. “She’s near our parents’ age but looks closer to Marcel’s. How is that possible?”
“Magic,” Benny says with a sarcastic awe as his smile fades. “I’ve done a fair share of studying on the Queen, especially since I knew I was coming here. A lot of people believe she has special ties to pretty powerful enchantresses.”
“Blasphemous,” Esha whispers.
I’ve seen the workings of enchanters during my travels. Have even used some of their creations on my own trips—a secret that I will take to my grave. Their presence in Saden is illegal. Of course, I could find one if I really searched; but throughout our kingdom’s history their dark magic has been known to cause more issues than solutions, so my great-great-grandfather made their practices illegal.
“Don’t be so uptight, Esha.” Deean is still glued to the window. “Whoever she is working with has her looking great. Or maybe she’s blessed by your divinity. Did you think of that?”
“No.” Immediately a floodgate of thoughts rises, all of them involving Deean screwing this up. “Whatever you are thinking, you are to rid it from your mind. You are acting as one of our workers and that’s it. The Queen of Haymel is off limits to you, do you understand?”
He turns to me and draws his eyebrows together. “Why would you say that?”
“I know you. Your mind is both predictable and a mystery, and that in itself needs to be studied. You are not allowed to flirt, drink with, kiss, or sleep with anyone on this trip. I will force you to travel back with Marcel if I find out you have done any of those things.”
“Flirting for some of us is like breathing. We may not even know we’re doing it.”
“I mean it.”
“Fine.” Aggressively he shuts the drapes and falls back in his seat.
The carriage door swings open, all eyes drift to me, knowing I have to exit first. I scooch past Esha and lower myself onto the steps of the carriage.
The air has a slight bite but is durable, and the sun is hidden behind a patch of clouds.
Marcel gets out of his coach, and I wait until he moves to take my first step. Eventually, we walk side by side to the welcoming party.
Marcel and Queen Cayleen greet each other first, shaking hands, and Marcel ever so slightly bobs his head.
“Thank you for opening your kingdom to us, Queen Cayleen. The dissolution of our kingdom’s feud is long overdue.” He steps back and it’s my turn.
I copy the smooth ease he had while walking up to her. She places her hand in mine. It’s silky and a little cold, despite the long-sleeved dress she wears.
