“The castle is a maze but I’m sure you’re used to it,” Ariah says. “I’m still trying to find my own way around. If you ever get lost, remember it’s the west wing of the rose garden, down the hall with the excessive number of red items, up the stairs and down another incredibly long hall, and then left at the end. If you don’t see the peacock, it means you’re down the wrong hall or possibly in the entirely wrong wing.” She points down towards a peacock statue with actual feathers, and Deean lets loose a laugh that he smothers with a cough. “Your room is the fifth door on the left.” She opens the wide doors. It is smallerthan my room back at home but it’s more than enough for my time here. “Oh my!” Ariah walks around, peering out the window and then examines the bed. “This room is bigger than…” She stops herself as she looks back at Deean and me. “Sorry. Well, this is it. Is there anything you need from me right now? I can give you a tour of the grounds?”
Deean arches an eyebrow at me. “No, that’s okay,” I assure her.
“How about helping to unpack your belongings?”
“My courtier has that.” I pat Deean on the back. “Matter of fact, you might want to go direct the others on where they can bring Marcel’s and my belongings.”
Deean’s eyelids close in on each other, but don’t fully shut. “As you wish, Your Royal Highness.” He turns to Ariah and dips his head. “Lady Ariah.”
He mumbles under his breath as he walks past us but it’s too low for me to hear.
“Alright”—Ariah crosses the room, coming closer—“if there isn’t anything else I will excuse myself. I’m sure the Queen has a list of things for me.”
“Will you be dining with us tonight?” There is an eagerness in my tone that I hope she doesn’t pick up on.
She smiles. Damit, she heard it.
“I might,” she teases before offering a curtsy. “Pleasure meeting you, Iann. If you do think of something you need, please, let me know.”
Ariah leaves and I explore what will be my room for the next few weeks. Besides the main door, there is an additional one leading to a washroom with an enormous bronze bath. There are three steps on either side of the white bed with golden trim along the frame. The best part of the room would have to be the balcony.
There is a hard thud on the floor and an exasperated breath from Deean.
“I’ve never had to carry my own bags, let alone someone else’s.” He looks around getting a full view of the room. “Not bad. A smidge too small for the both of us but it’ll do.”
“Both?” I frown, unpacking the trunk with all of my books. “This is my room. Your bed is in the workers’ quarters.”
“Ha.” Deean finds the liquor cabinet and searches for something he likes. “I will pretend in public, but when those doors are closed, I am back to being a prince, and more importantly your older brother. I’ll be sleeping in here with you. The bed is more than big enough.” He looks over at me with his hand on a bottle. “Unless you would like someone else in your bed. Perhaps Ariah can assist you in other ways.” A grin pushes upwards of his face.
“You’re exhausting,” I mutter, and pretend to flip through one of the books as a distraction.
I don’t admit it to him, but there is something appealing about her, beyond just the looks, which were equally there. I’m not sure what it is, but one thing is sure, I will use my time in Haymel to find out.
18
ARIAH
Whispers of the two Saden princes in Haymel travel around the castle walls faster than the winds of a howling storm; and although I tell myself not to be paranoid, I can’t help but feel like eyes are on me.
Everyone knows I’ve been tasked with escorting the young prince around during his stay. The “new girl” assigned with such a duty. No one says these words aloud, but I can’t help but speculate that’s what they are thinking. Most of me cares little for their opinions.
There are also whispers about the Queen’s mental state for letting, not one but two, rival royals within the boundaries of our kingdom.
It’s all absurd to me. What damage could the two princes do? The Queen has more allies here. People who would have no issue defending her if need be. Overall, their arrival had gone well. Quick and to the point, and I think I played my role well.
Vera’s follow-up lesson that afternoon, after her attempt to murder me, was to always flirt but never appear desperate,especially when it comes to royalty. “They want to feel desired but not used, tread that line very carefully,” she had warned.
From the little interaction I’ve had with them, I can say my interest in Prince Marcel is practically nonexistent. His smug demeanor is undesirable. I especially didn’t like the way he spoke to his brother. Jaleese and I would have certainly gone at it if she spoke to me like that, attempting to be funny in front of strangers.
As for Iann, I really could have listened to more of his adventures. I am a bit jealous that he even has stories to tell, and I don’t. At first, I didn’t know if he was going to speak to me, but I think I pulled a decent conversation out of him.
Both brothers were given looks crafted from the divinities. Marcel is an inch or two taller and carries more definitive muscles that make his coat a bit too snug. His skin is also a shade darker than Iann’s. The rich brown complementing the sage green of his outfit well, was the only thing about him I appreciated.
Iann is slender and has finer features. His eyes, from the quick view I got, are an entrapping brown with flakes of green. His smile is kind and his voice pleasant, one that made me want to listen to him long into the night. If I could hear stories read aloud by him then maybe I could actually finish a book.
“What are you smiling about?” Vera rounds the corner cutting off my path to the sewing room. I thought she was still helping Marcel; to see her here causes me to jump back, and instinctively my hand goes to a dagger hidden near my bust. She catches my hand movement. “Don’t waste your time, I’m not trying to kill you…again.” Her red lips twitch up. “Have you bedded him already? Is that why you’re smiling? You couldn’t even wait until after tonight’s dinner to serve up something sweet?”
“Excuse me.” Something boils within me like a kettle reaching its peak and screaming for help. “Your spitefulness is getting old. I get it, my mom did something to piss your mom off, what… thirty years ago,” I say mockingly, drilling in my point. “And I get I’m new blood, but I’m sick of yours and Sky’s rude initiation mind games. I’m here, not much by choice, but I will not be forced out by some woman with an attitude problem.”
