The Dance of the Butterflies
Part Three of Chapter Three
Mashiro had yet to descend to the ballroom floor. Her pulse fluttered with anxiety as she scanned the room full of people, on occasion darting a furtive glance toward the double-door entrance. Even high above as she was upon the second tier, she did not want to appear perturbed for fear that she might be noticed. Hiding behind her even tempered royal demeanor wasn't always as simple as putting on a mask; it took mental preparation, although she had been able to ease into her role far more easily as of late. Mashiro couldn't help but wonder if Arika had been right in her assessment when she said she was changing.
"It's more than just sometimes," Arika had confessed not so long ago. "When you're in the presence of councilmen and diplomats, or before all of Windbloom, you seem to be so far way. I keep wondering if I can ever catch up or if I'll just fall behind."
"I think you're overestimating me," Mashiro had answered.
"No," was Arika's definitive reply. "I'm not. It's just that winged birds are meant for flight."
Mashiro had raised a brow in surprise. Arika, for all her physical talents, was never much of a wordsmith, yet her words carried the weight of lyrical truth. But she was wrong. Not all birds can fly, she had wanted to tell her. Instead she sealed those words behind closed lips and buried them in her heart.
And yet Mashiro wasn't certain if she felt all that grown up as Arika had implied. It was true that the role she had been raised to play was becoming as fluid as the blood that pulsed in her veins. She had not been born for the role but she had certainly been bred for it. And as luck would have it, she was a natural in the role of Queen. But just because she was perfect for the role, it did not mean her heart would grow as cold and wan as the façade she wore.
As much as it frustrated her, she also envied how easily Arika wore her heart upon her sleeve. Her wide eyes knew no lies and the child-like features of her elfin face could not contain them. Even now, when she felt most like a school girl with a crush, Mashiro could not risk the projection of adolescent sentimentality. And yet, here she was, hiding just like the love struck school girl she had hoped to deny.
Mashiro moved lithely toward a grand pillar and pressed close against it, holding her breath as she tentatively peered below. Her hands felt clammy and cold against the white marble column, and her neck ached as she strained for a closer look.
"Is something the matter, Your Grace?" Captain Cardinal imposed, trailed by two imperial guardsmen of undefining features.
Mashiro turned and smiled. But her smile was thin and tense and her posture was awkwardly stiff. None of this was lost upon the captain, who felt all the more pressed to pry further, but something in the young queen's eyes made him hesitate. He had spied a gleaming in her eyes, a flicker of fear, but couldn't conceive as to why. Captain Cardinal could only surmise that perhaps it had been a trick of the lights, but nevertheless, chose to pursue no further.
He inhaled deeply before clearing his throat and moving on to other matters. "Meister Yumemiya has been readied," he reported. "The stage has been set and Miss Senoh is on standby, waiting for your cue."
The young queen's eyes cleared and the tension in her body was displaced, as if a serene wind had swept away her distress. The corners of her eyes and lips crinkled as a genuine smile kissed her lips.
"Thank you, Cardinal," she said warmly. "Please tell Aoi to bring her in fifteen minutes."
Captain Cardinal grinned and bowed then silently signaled one of his guardsmen. The imperial guard likewise bowed before the queen and eagerly turned without a second glance, to deliver the message.
"It seems the whole staff is looking forward to this." Captain Cardinal reflected with bemusement, hesitant to leave just yet. "That boy that just scampered off is one of her biggest fans, you know. Carries a picture of her in his helmet."
"I'm sure Arika will be elated to know that she has fans even among my guards," Mashiro said as she gave the imperial another glance before the uniformed youth disappeared beyond the corridor.
The captain laughed. "It's probably best to keep it quiet," he advised. "She's only bound to let it get to her head."
"Yes."
Mashiro walked alongside the banister, the silken trail of her gown gliding upon the pristine marble beneath her feet, and pulled out her long silk gloves from a hidden pocket in her dress. She paused to slide them on, searching once more through the crowd as she did so.
"Perhaps you would like to join the guests before it begins, Your Grace?" Captain Cardinal inquired, extending his elbow in a gentlemanly gesture. Mashiro nodded and linked her arm in his.
"Alright. Let's do this," she said. "I suppose I mustn't keep them waiting for too long."
Masaru Pitzer could have been a statue on the ballroom floor. In the hour since he had arrived, he had hardly moved more than three feet, and what little conversation he'd engaged consisted of no more than persuading the guests that he was not a waiter. The more time passed the more stupid he felt in his exceedingly simple black and white suit. The small black bow tie didn't help matters, but he was far too paralyzed by his own self consciousness to dare take it off. The ball had only just started but he couldn't imagine another hour of this, let alone five.
Just as he inwardly bemoaned the next three hundred minutes of hell he would have to endure before he could escape to his chambers, he glimpsed a ray of hope as Queen Mashiro and Captain Cardinal made their way down the staircase and to the ballroom floor. Prompted by the prospect of engaging the queen in conversation, Pitzer stiffly weaved and pushed through the crowds. But just as he approached her and before he could open his mouth to speak, an orange blaze cut past him.
"Mashiro!" Mai cried out as she approached her friend, oblivious to the stiff young Secretary of State standing behind her. The girls clasped hands, expressing excitement over their long overdue reunion. It had been months since they had sworn to 'meet soon' but complications with their own countries always lead them astray on their promise.
"Goodness! Have you gotten taller?" Mashiro exclaimed as she gave Mai a quick once over.
"No. You just haven't grown," Mai teased, and before Mashiro could protest, she raised her hands attesting that it was only a joke. Realizing now that he had no hope of engaging the queen, Masaru Pitzer shirked away unassumingly.
"I can already imagine the legal repercussions for offending the ruling body of Windbloom. In Zipang we still do beheadings," Mai informed, but the glint in her eyes affirmed that she was still joking. "Takumi is quite the bloodthirsty tyrant, you know."
"Oh? You should be careful. He might be listening nearby." Mashiro said, carefully wording her reply and her mouth suddenly very dry. She tried to hide it, but the moment Mai mentioned her younger brother's name, Mashiro's eyes had sparked with interest. Where is he? She wondered, fighting her instinct to canvass the crowds once again.
"No worries. He's not here." Mai answered, ignorant of the queen's dashed hopes. "That dope is such a working stiff. Had to stay in to tidy up on few issues with the legislature. But he should be here, soon."
"But he did say he was coming, right?"
"Yep. Said he wouldn't miss the queen's birthday for the world. But where are my manners? I came all the way over here and I have yet to wish you a happy b—"
"Happy birthday!" Mikoto burst loudly as she suddenly came between the two royals, having seemingly materialized from thin air.
Before the girls could make a reply, Mikoto fished into her pocket and pulled out what appeared to be a pocketful of grass and lint.
"It's for you," Mikoto said as she offered it to the young queen. Mashiro looked in Mikoto's cupped palm, baffled by the strange offer. Mai was just as equally taken back.
"What is it?" Mashiro dared to ask.
"A gift."
"A gift?" Mashiro peered curiously and suspiciously at Mikoto's hand, wondering how pocket lint could be considered a gift, when Mai voiced her own doubts.
"I dunno, Mikoto. Doesn't look like a gift to me," Mai said, taking a closer look of her own.
Confused by their uncertainty, Mikoto looked down at her hand and quickly realized her mistake. She picked off the grass and lint and revealed what had been hidden beneath; a glittering red pearl.
"Sorry about," she said as she placed the pearl in Mashiro's hand. The pearl was surprisingly warm, and upon closer inspection the young queen realized that it didn't glitter, but rather it had a pulsating glow.
"It's a truth." Mikoto explained.
"A truth." Mashiro echoed. "Is that some kind of metaphor?"
Mikoto shook her head. "No. Just a truth. But only one."
Before Mashiro could ask her to explain, a waiter carrying a platter of mini cucumber sandwiches walked past and Mikoto bounced away after him. Mai shook her head and sighed.
"She said practically the same thing about a deck of cards she gave me last year," Mai explained. "Only that time it was a 'draw of luck, but only once.' More like a 'truth' that she's a 'cheapskate' if you ask me. That's probably not even a real pearl."
The girls laughed, but were soon interrupted by Captain Cardinal.
"We must get going, Your Grace. Miss Senoh should be arriving shortly with Meister Yumemiya."
"Give us just one more minute," Mashiro replied, only now realizing how little time she had left. Captain Cardinal nodded and placed distance between them.
"Mai," Mashiro said as soon as the captain had stepped out of earshot. "There's something that I've been meaning to ask you. About Takumi; he isn't—" Engaged? Dating? Hunting for a wife? No matter how she might put it, it made her seem interested. Mashiro didn't know how to ask without seeming so personally invested.
"He isn't disappointed in me is he?" It had not been the question she wanted to ask, but it was a question that nevertheless haunted her.
"Why do you ask?" Mai inquired, thrown back by the by Mashiro's question.
"It just that there was once a time when he was."
Mai felt silent. This was not a question for her to answer, and she realized that perhaps Mashiro was seeking some other kind of truth. But whatever truth she sought, neither Mai nor some glow rock would be the ones to give it to her.
With a quick tap of his watch, Captain Cardinal ushered Mashiro away with only enough time to dispense a quick goodbye as she pocketed her small shining 'truth' into the hidden inner lining of her gown.
Arika was beginning to suspect that she was at the center of some practical joke. Not since the Queen's little disappearance act on their fifteen birthday, had Arika ever have to dress the role of a courtier. A formal gown seemed far too inappropriate. What if she was suddenly called upon to fight? A gown and heels would only impede her attacks and reaction time. But she was being ridiculous and she knew it.
One look at her reflection in the bathroom mirror and it was not hard for her to see that it was the delicate femininity gazing back at her that formed knots in her stomach. This isn't for me, she thought. I'm not beautiful or majestic like a bird in flight.
"Did you know?" Meister Viola had once told her. "Even a hen can aspire to flight."
Arika had not known how to interpret Meister Viola's unusual expressions. There were already so many of them that had been laid to waste away in the periphery of her mind. She wasn't even certain how their conversation had taken this turn.
"Why are we even talking about chickens?" Had been Arika's naïve response. It had been enough to solicit a chuckle from Shizuru, but not enough to elicit an answer that she could understand.
"It is precisely because all birds are meant for flight that makes them so tragic."
Tragic? The chickens? Nonsense words, thought Arika.
"So then, are you saying that I am a chicken?" And yet again another frustrating laugh. Arika was beginning to detest riddles. If she remembered correctly, just weeks before their subject of conversation had been the tragedy of fireflies. Or was it butterflies?
"Okay, it's time," Said Aoi as she cracked open the bathroom door and peered inside.
Arika nodded. Whatever game they were playing at, she had no choice but to play along. She took one last glance in the mirror at the stranger staring back with her face. Do you know me better than I know myself? She silently asked her reflection. Who knows the truth anymore?
Author's Note:
Okay, so the flash back is not quite done. My outline was more ambitious that I'd initially expected and I'm already several pages into the next part, so I've opted to post what I have in order to appease you, the readers.