The Dance of the Butterflies
Part Two of Chapter Three
"Is everything in order?" Queen Mashiro inquired, descending down the staircase as she observed a set of laborers from the art institute ease a ten foot sheeted canvass through the main doors.
Aoi was poised at the foot of the stairs overseeing the delivery and sifting through the bill of landing docket and proof of delivery forms.
"Yes," she replied as she provided her authorizing signature and handed the signed forms back to the curator of the Royal Arts Academy. "I've already inspected the piece and it's in pristine condition. Do you wish to take a look?"
Mashiro paused halfway down the staircase and nodded, prompting Aoi to cue the curator into action. The distinguished academic bowed reverentially before the queen and proceeded to instruct the laborers with the unveiling. Aoi waited for the queen's reaction as the sheet was carefully pulled back. But Mashiro revealed no indication of disapproval or satisfaction. Her eyes remained fixed upon the piece, caught up within the details, visually tracing along the brushstrokes. A minute passed and still she hadn't breathed a word.
Aoi grew nervous. A minute was really an insignificant portion of time, but burdened with heavy silence, a minute was infinite, and she couldn't help but wonder if maybe Her Majesty was displeased with the piece after all.
"It glitters in gold," she whispered inaudibly.
She then sensed the mounting unease in the room and tore her eyes away, pursing her lips into a tight smile. She'd been caught off guard somehow and didn't feel particularly keen to expose this fact. There was really no logic to it, yet she felt that too much of a reaction would render her vulnerable. But more than that, the surface of the canvass had startling similarities to the lurid dreamscape she frequented at night.
"It's impressive," Mashiro attested.
Aoi and the curator were awash with relief.
"She's going to feel very honored," Aoi stated as the sheet was pulled once again over the canvass. "I just know it."
"I feel very stupid." Arika declared.
"What kind of monarchy forces their guards to wear buckets on their heads?" She tapped the metal helmet, and as she did so, it slipped over her eyes.
Duke McAllister chuckled. "You wound me Meister Yumemiya."
Arika pushed the helmet back into place and glared at the Duke walking alongside her, but without her peripheral vision she stumbled. She quickly regained her balance but the helmet's visor had effectively snapped shut over her face.
Duke McAllister, having not taken notice of Arika's predicament, went on stating, "The Gristholm Imperial Guard uniform is a symbol of dynastic history and values. As such one shouldn't mock tradition." He glanced over at Arika and was surprised and amused to find her struggling to pry open her helmet visor. The Imperial Guards that followed close behind looked on with perturbed disbelief.
"Do you require assistance, Meister Yumemiya?" The Duke inquired without skipping a beat.
"I—I'm fine." Arika tried pulling the helmet off but it was impossible with the visor clamped down.
"Are you sure?" Duke McAllister could not deny that he was actually enjoying this. Since their first meeting, Arika had gone out of her way to express her disapproval of his presence at Windbloom's royal court. She seemed indifferent to his title; Duke Tate McAllister was currently first in line to the Gristholm crown, second only to his elder half-brother, Prince Takeda who held the title of Crown Prince.
He was beginning to suspect that Arika's disapproval was less a manifestation of his worth and more to do with the fact that she felt her friendship with the queen was being threatened. Not that her fears were completely unfounded. It was no secret that the dynamics of friendships underwent change when marriage came into the picture, and for that he did feel intrusive; which is why when Mashiro made the ridiculous request to welcome Arika into his Imperial Guard for the day, he forewent objection. Not that he minded so much despite the young Meister's misgivings.
She's fun, he mused. Even when she's angry, she's more like a pet pleading for attention. So much like the Huit heir.
Arika managed to pry open the visor and quickly pulled off the helmet, regarding it as though it were a diseased object.
"This thing is ridiculous and cruel," she grunted.
The Duke laughed, "Meister Yumemiya, are you insinuating that the royal family of Gristholm takes pleasure and amusement in the discomfort of others?"
Arika didn't wait for very long before she answered with a resounding "Yes."
"That a very discriminating accusation," the Duke observed in jest. "Is that your official position as a Windbloom officer?"
Realizing her mistake, she opened her mouth as if to say something, but couldn't muster the blow to her pride. Although the Duke was becoming more than a mere acquaintance, Arika was still bound to her code of conduct as a representing member of the royal court. Off-handed remarks on international affairs risked compromising Windbloom's relationship with other countries. She realized that the Duke was merely trying to teach her a lesson, but resented who it was that had taken the role of teacher.
She didn't feel like indulging the Duke, there was a more pressing question on her mind.
"Are the rumors true?" She inquired, her crystalline blue eyes searching his face for an answer.
The Duke was surprised and waved the guards away. His men backed away just far enough to be out of earshot.
"I'm surprised you're asking me and not Mashiro." Arika hated the informality in his address. Even after all this time, she inwardly cringed when he addressed the queen so informally.
"You didn't answer my question."
"You weren't specific."
There's genuine anger there, he mused.
"Perhaps you were referring to rumors of our love child," he interceded before she could get in another word. "Although, we haven't known each other long enough for that to hold any substance. Or maybe," he continued in mock contemplation, "you mean about how your exquisite queen has become a lovely addition to my harem? Am I getting warm?"
It was all ridiculous conjecture, but Arika's rage fascinated him, not because he took sadistic pleasure from it, but because there was something so unadulterated and naïve about it.
It's funny, really, he thought. Her body has the maturity that her mind lacks.
Arika did not know how to interpret his evasive reply and grew angrier, sensing that she was being talked to like a child.
"Or maybe," he surmised, "you're referring to rumor the about an Otome who is in love with her queen."
It was meant as a joke, and there was, by no means, any malice behind that last conjecture; yet the expression on her face was so full of astonishment and alarm.
Ah, I see.
It dawned on the Duke that perhaps it wasn't so funny. Arika was clearly stunned, and he realized that this was probably news to her too.
"Arika," he said kindly, all humor perished from his voice. "Most of those rumors are lies. I think you already know that. But I am fond of your queen, and that's not a lie."
Arika dropped her gaze, her mind struggling to make sense of the Duke's implications. He was no more than ten years her senior, yet as he raised her chin to meet his gaze, he had a very paternal way about him.
That's not quite right, she reconsidered. It's because he's dealing with me the way you do with a child.
"So then…you mean to contract a marriage?"
"No," the Duke replied. "Not exactly. But I do intend to get her permission to engage her in formal courtship."
Arika tilted her head in confusion.
"It customary in my country," he explained. "But I suppose it ultimately means the same thing. An intent to court is merely a formality to express my intent to marry. If she accepts me as a suitor, then I'm in high contention for for a betrothal."
Arika nodded lamely. She had obtained her answer, what more was there left to say?
The guests began to arrive at seven that evening. Nina Wang, accompanied by Sergey Wang was one of the first guests to arrive. She was a victim of punctuality and didn't have many familiar faces to engage in conversation. For much of the first hour, Nina and Sergey secluded themselves near the bar, commenting on all the early diplomatic arrivals. The affair itself was carded as a Black and White Ball; yet even Nina couldn't help but choke a laugh when the Grand Duchess of Laurencia made her appearance in a strikingly purple silk gown. Just moments after her arrival, the Duchess was already making her way out the door, aglow in embarrassment.
Mai had managed to make her entrance without a formal announcement, sneaking in behind the Marquess and the Marchioness of Gressum. Mikoto, the hedonistic god, on the other hand, swaggered in ridiculously, barefoot and adorned in a simple black yukata. Nina couldn't help but feel embarrassed for the shameless diety.
"That's just not right," she uttered under her breath.
Sergey smiled. "She's just eccentric."
"Oh please," Mai scoffed, abruptly appearing behind them. "Eccentric is what you call someone of wealth or power because you don't have the nerve to expose them for the crazies they truly are."
Arika had also been making her way toward the ballroom grand entrance behind Duke Tate McAllister, outfitted in the traditional Gristholm Imperial Guard attire, when Aoi pulled her out from the lineup of guards and into an adjourning corridor.
"Aoi, what's going on?" Arika inquired. In the distant background the announcer was pronouncing the Duke McAllister of the Carlisle Province, cousin of the Crown Prince of Gristholm, in attendance. Arika looked back anxiously.
"Don't worry about your security detail. The captain is taking care of it." Aoi pulled Arika into another corridor and away from the ballroom, until the resonance of the ball was no louder than a hum.
"But—then why was I told—" Arika was fumbling to make sense of her current situation, but Aoi didn't give her time to question any further as she dragged her into a brightly lit room where two servant girls stood at attention. The taller of the two held a black gown, draped over her arm; the other girl quickly made her way toward them, helping Aoi unbutton Arika's uniform before the door had clinked shut behind them.
"What are you doing?" She tried to pull back burning with modesty and wide-eyed in confusion.
"We're getting you ready," Aoi replied as she peeled off the imperial coat in one brisk stroke.
"Getting me ready?"
The small servant girl removed Arika's undershirt as Aoi tugged down her trousers.
"There's been a change of plans. Queen Mashiro needs you as yourself for tonight." Aoi unclasped her bra but Arika crossed her arms over her chest before it could be removed.
"I can change myself, you know," she grumbled, her face smoldering.
Aoi agreed.
"But it is my place to follow orders. And I am bound to do as the queen instructs."
Arika caught the impish glow on Aoi's face and wondered if she should be relieved or afraid.