Instinct takes over at the sight of the arrow’s point. Without thinking, I lunge back into the room and flatten myself on the adjacent wall, chest heaving as I anticipate an arrow striking the balcony door.
Instead, the door to my bedchamber bursts open. I stare with wide eyes as Rally and Ty charge in, each of them wielding a pair of curved blades. Immediately, Rally is in front of me and Ty prowling the room.
“What is it, Your Highness?” Rally asks. He turns a slow circle in front of me, his eyes seeking threats.
“There’s an archer,” I say, fighting to steady my breathing, “on the balcony at ten o’ clock. Gray clothing. Perhaps two inches shy of six feet tall.”
They both turn to blink at me. I avert my gaze before they see the mote of pride there.
I was never Mother’s best pupil, but even she would be pleased with my swift assessment.
Rally lowers his weapons. “An archer?”
I nod. “Yes. His arrow is nocked.”
Brow still furrowed, Rally sheathes his swords and moves toward the balcony. I grab at his sleeve.
“His arrow is ready,” I cry. Does he not know what nocked means?
I startle as Ty lays a gentle hand on my shoulder. The smile he gives me clearly says, It’s all right, and his brother, though unsmiling, seems of the same opinion.
Are they mad?
With great reservation, I release Rally. I watch as he steps within the archer’s sight.
As he lifts an arm and waves.
“Esino is one of Tirenth’s best archers, Your Highness,” Rally says. Dropping the arm, he comes back inside. “You have nothing to fear.”
Nothing to fear? I push myself off the wall. “The man’s arrow was ready to fly.”
“His Majesty requires them to always be at the ready.”
Them? Rally must misinterpret my expression, for he says, “No fewer than six of Tirenth’s finest archers watch over your garden at any given time, Your Highness.” His chest puffs out a little. “Don’t worry. You are well-protected here.”
Ty nods along with all of this.
Six archers? Watching this one garden? I gape at the pleased pair in front of me.
“Why would I be worried to walk onto the balcony of my own room?” I ask, my voice somewhere between whisper and wheeze. “Why would I need six archers to oversee that?”
Here, Rally pauses. “His majesty wished for you to feel secure,” he says finally.
My mouth works in an effort to produce an acceptable response. “How thoughtful of him. Perhaps we could ask the archers to wait until a threat is seen to nock their arrows.”
Both start shifting around as if I suggested we sit down and braid one another’s hair.
“I’m afraid we would need to ask the king,” is the reply.
Deep breaths, Serah. “Very well.”
More shifting about follows. “If you don’t require anything else,” Rally says, his voice trailing off. Ty is already slinking toward the door.
“Wait, please,” I say, starting after them. “I’ve yet to hear…what I mean is…” I’m sure they aren’t the ones I should ask, but theirs are the most familiar faces. I struggle not to bite my lip. “Do you know of my engagements? What I’m meant to be doing?”
Rally looks relieved. “A feast is to be held in your honor tomorrow evening, Your Highness.”
“But today…?”
“Ah, I believe the king thought you would enjoy resting today.”
My cat friend comes to wind himself around my ankles. “That’s very kind of his majesty,” I say as I bend to pet my friend, “but I’m not tired. I would prefer to tour the palace, or perhaps meet some of the…people of Tirenth.”
The brothers’ eyes dart toward one another, reminding me of two children set on not revealing a guilty friend.
I am a hundred percent confident I know who that friend is.
“We’ll be right back,” Rally says, and before I can argue, they bolt from the room.
I stand there in stunned silence as my cat friend rubs his face on my leg. “Did you think that strange?” I ask him.
He answers by strutting to the band of sunlight streaming in from the balcony and flopping over on his side there.
“At least one of us is unbothered,” I grumble.
To his displeasure, I close the double doors and draw the curtains over the glass. That done, I look about for something to occupy me until Rally and Ty return. Unfortunately, what I find is the king’s untouched breakfast. If I leave it there like that, the staff will know he didn’t return. That might spark rumors regarding this whole fated flames thing.
I sigh and start eating.
A quarter of an hour passes before a knock sounds at the door and I’m forced to gulp down the last of a chocolate-drenched muffin.
“Come in,” I call, swiping at my face as I stand.
To my surprise, it isn’t Rally or Ty. It’s an older man whose granite-like face and hooked nose remind me eerily of our household manager at home.
“Your Highness,” the man says as he bows at what appears to be a perfect right angle. “I am Oiken, the king’s majordomo.”
Of course he is.
“Would you kindly follow me?” Oiken says.
He leads me into the front room, which is set up like a parlor. I came this way when I arrived, but Rally and Ty moved me through so quickly that I only caught a glimpse. Now I see that the room seems designed for playing cards and embroidering for hours on end, both of which I loathe.
Rally and Ty, looking a hair out of breath, stand by the door leading to the hallway, and in front of a large window stands a Vasnan loom.
“A gift,” Oiken says, “from his majesty.”
I glance at the brothers, who are both watching me with unchecked hope in their eyes.
“How kind,” I say.
Oiken looks at me expectantly. Does he want me to sit down and start weaving now? Perhaps it’s only the strange morning making me contrary, but instead of dutifully moving to the chair set out for me, I smile.
“I’m afraid I hold no talent for the loom, sir.”
To my surprise, Oiken seems unperturbed. He merely turns to the brothers and nods his head, sending Rally lunging out of the room.
What is going on?
No one speaks in the moments after. I send Ty a questioning look, but he only answers with a watery smile. Oiken, hands tucked behind his back, stares at the wall.
In mere moments, Rally returns with a flock of girls bearing vases of flowers. They swarm into the room, set their loads on a table, and swarm out. I sneeze.
“Perhaps you might enjoy flower arranging,” Oiken says, squinting as he tries to repel his own sneeze.
“I fear I never attempted it,” I say slowly.
His nose lifts. “It is a common lady’s art.”
I’m not confrontational, but the barb stings. “Perhaps I am uncommon,” I murmur.
Oiken flushes. “Of course, Your Highness.” Another nod is aimed Rally’s way, and the man flees the room once more.
All through the morning, new diversions arrive for Oiken to entice me with.
“Painting, Your Highness?”
“It never took,” I say.
“Perfume making?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Chocolate sculpting?”
“No thank you.”
A steady stream of servants pour in and out of the room, and soon every flat surface is covered in failed attempts. With each new arrival, my resolve hardens.
The king is trying to keep me here, like a pet, and I refuse to be entertained by the toys he’s sent to amuse me.
“Not there,” Oiken snaps at a boy carrying a stringed instrument taller than himself. The majordomo is finally starting to crack. His forehead gleams with sweat. “Put it—no. Not there. By all the stars…over there, boy!”
The poor boy turns, strikes the man behind him, and the pair careens into an enormous canvas set on an easel, sending the whole apparatus crashing to the floor. The room falls silent.
That is until my cat friend knocks one of the flower vases to the floor, shattering it.
Cassandra, I think to myself. My sister Cassandra would do perfectly for the moment.
“Oh,” I say, bringing a hand to my forehead, “I fear the crowded room is making me faint. Might we take a break?”
Oiken storms from the room, and I do try not to revel too much in his defeat. I smile warmly at the rest of the servants as they trickle out.
“Thank you for your assistance,” I say. “Yes, thank you so much for your help.”
My smile disappears as soon as I spot Rally and Ty trying to sneak out with everyone else.
“Wait,” I say without an ounce of timidity this time. I march up to the pair of them, who stand a full head and a half higher than me, and glare. “Take me to him right now.”
Ty pantomimes begging for my mercy. Rally sags with defeat.
“We’ve been ordered not to let you leave, Your Highness,” he says.
So it’s exactly as I thought. “Then bring him to me,” I say. “It’s either that or you’ll have to lay hands on me to keep me from marching out of this room.”
The threat borders on petulance, but for stars’ sake, if I’m to be queen, I can’t stay here all day. The very idea of being trapped like that terrifies me.
“You go,” Rally says to his brother, shoving him toward the door. “I had to deal with him earlier.”
Ty scowls, but he does go. Rally, after opening his mouth a time or two, decides on not saying anything at all and steps out behind his brother.
I stand amid the broken glass and wait.
My resolve wavers as a single pair of footsteps thunders up the hallway. I swear the floor trembles.
He’s coming.
The knock that precedes him is polite. Controlled. I take heart from this as I call for him to enter.
The king doesn’t spare a glance for the chaos surrounding us as he slips into the room. His eyes latch onto mine and stay there, making my pulse gallop.
“My guards tell me you wish to leave your chambers,” he says.
His tone is perfectly neutral.
I lift my chin. “Indeed. I wish to—”
He cuts through my wishes with a single word of absolute decisiveness:
“No.”