CHAPTER FIVE The Difference Between Them
REITH
"N-NO! Really! New clothing is just unnecessary! I-it's fine! BELL!"
I was shoved into the room before I could get another protest out of my mouth. Still slightly wet from my bath and dripping a small trail on the marble under my feet I stood petrified by the door my supposedly loyal lady-in-waiting had shut happily behind me with the muttered promised that it would all be "just fine"! I shivered and clutched my arms through the fluffy material of the bath robe that had been given to me. After such a wonderful experience like my first rose-water bath…this is what I'd been forced to face! Possible exposure of my lie and possible execution by the royal family for impersonation of the princess!
The room before me was a splendor like everything else in the castle of Deporal Kingdom. The walls were cloaked in fluttering shades of violet silk that looked like a sea of shimmering color before the massive, floor-to-ceiling span windows that were the room's corners. The white marble platform at the center of the room was boxed in by a series of mirrors that only made me self-conscious and I wasn't even standing on it yet! This wasn't a good idea…
But what worried me more what the absence of the one person I knew was bound to figure out my disguise upon first glance. Maybe she was hiding somewhere waiting for the ideal moment to jump out and scare the heck out of—
"Your standing there does nothing for me!"
I yelped and must've jolted a good three feet into the air. Looking about me wildly I tried to ignore the persistent throb of my heart. Where is she?!
As though in response to my mental inquiry a petite, feline-eyed woman stepped out from behind one of the towering mirrors. Bumps crawled over my skin with fear. Y-yeah, it was time to go! The witch of a woman gliding towards me couldn't have appeared more frightening! Her silver streaked hair was drawn back in a tight bun that made the edges of her impossibly bright gray eyes appear even more cat-like. The long truffle of her black sashed ebon gown swayed with a weird dragging sound behind her, and the firm set of her full lips in her already wicked-looking face was intimidating.
I was all but clawing at the door. "Bell, please don't leave me here!" I pleaded under my breath not quite sure whether or not she was even there on the other side.
The click of the woman's heels was getting closer and closer behind me and with every firm tap that echoed in the massive room, another chill shimmered unhelpfully through me. My pleas were getting desperate. "Bell!!"
Silence.
I slowly forced myself to creak back around to look cautiously over my shoulder. Too…quiet…
Standing level with my neck, the seamstress had drawn to a complete stop only a few feet from me, her clear, intelligent gaze stilled upon me with the penetrating knowledge I feared to no end.
And then the words that were my doom for sure…
"Well! You grew into a pretty boy, didn't you?"
I blinked. "G-grew?"
A haunt of grey shimmered up at me with an all too knowing sheen. "You think I'd forget the form of the little runt that used to be the only consolation I could use to keep that idiot child princess still during her fittings so many years ago?"
There was the semi-audible ring of disbelief in the air as we held each other's stares for a long moment. I studied this character from head to toe in what might have been hours but knew was just a moment. I…I remembered the seamstress Esrellia had once had nine or ten years ago. She had been an odd woman in her late thirties with glistening gray eyes and this very same no-tolerance atmosphere. Esrellia had despised the woman and had done everything in her power to ensure their relationship faltered in any way possible. But could this woman standing before me now really be…?
"Seamstress Morgan Le'Defil?"
Satisfaction hummed over her expression. "That's right. And if I do recall you're Reith, is that right?" I must have been nodding even though I barely felt my head move for she cocked her chin up and peered at my face with kindled warmth and added playfully, "My, well looks like you're the butt of you mistress's cruel humor again, hmm?"
What was that supposed to mean?! I bristled a little at the mockery in her otherwise kind tone. "This situation demands a little seriousness," I reminded, cautiously reverting back to my true tone of voice and confirming my rather irresolute gender.
Obviously my effort was wasted. Chuckling, Morgan reached out to trace the stuffed chest of the robe I'd been given. "Of course it does," she mused, "that's why you've decided to cross dress for a brat that probably doesn't even know your value as a human being, right?"
Something about the way Seamstress Morgan spoke was spiteful to a degree. As a child so long ago I'd never really noticed. But now her snide temperament was frank. I looked away with an expected flush of ruby in my face, swatting away her hands. "Stop that! Don't you intend to tell the princes I'm an imposter?"
"Why would I do that? I have no intention of seeing you hung for treason." She poked distractedly at my lightly padded chest again. "What did you put in here?"
I sighed. "Hand towels from the bathroom when no one was looking—you can't tell anyone then."
Mild amusement flickered in the intelligent depths of the woman's eyes and once again her full attention was centered on me. "So I'm to keep this little secret that could possibly alter the balance of power within the allied kingdoms?"
"Of course!"
"And I'm to do this free of charge?"
"Of co—" I shut my mouth and thought about my response the instant her sharpened gaze hit me. Sly old bat. She wanted something in return for silence?! How dare she! I was the one in this horrible position! Okay, so maybe it was my fault for being naïve but what did that matter? "What is it," I began carefully, "that you want?"
Her strangely graced hand came up to cup my chin and as her long, dexterous fingers touched me I felt an impending sense of doom. "Why," she chimed innocently, "your body of course!"
How do I explain what I felt then as I was left petrified in place, staring down at her in wide-eyed panic? Was it terror? No…no, something far more severe. Revolt? No…no, but close…Mortification?
Ah yes. That was it. I was mortified…
While I'm sure the expression on my face at that moment was purely priceless in its absolute horror, her laughter was all that came as my response. Releasing me—thankfully, Morgan turned to saunter back towards the circle of dress mirrors at her own pace. "Mind out of the gutter, boy," she called over her proud shoulder. "It's just your figure I want. I'm sick of wasting my talents on these petty women! My goal is to spread my designs of elegance to the masculine faction of this world." I watched a little stunned when she turned around quickly with a playfully amorous wink. "And you're going to help me!"
I was? Looking away the chills that were running through me only seemed to get worse. "That's all you want?" I blurted without meaning to lend her another opening at the chance to extort me.
Maybe I really am much too kind and naïve for my own good. "If you're going to give me more opportunity to abuse my privilege then I require just one other thing…"
Of course she did.
With her back to me, Morgan heaved a semi-audible sigh that sent a new wave of panic through me. "Make sure neither of these idiot princes reaches the throne."
I opened my mouth to automatically confirm our agreement and hesitated just as her words finally met my ears with the blare of reality. Neither? I paused, staring incredulously at her. "You're joking, aren't you?"
"I'm not."
My heart sank with the sort of looming doom that I was starting to grow immune to. "But if no one takes the throne…"
She cut me off with a stern tone of voice that reminded me of my place instantly. "Then that damned "king" of yours will have to admit who the real heir to the throne is!"
"The real…?"
What's that supposed to mean….the real heir to the throne?
CHAPTER FIVE
LYDIS
He watched with the sort of patience a future leader might observe the passing of their rule with. Such a strange, comforting sensation. To witness such a rarity in the world as this—it was truly inspiring.
Too comfortable amid the environment of the stables, Alazay chuckled and stroked the broad noses being pushed towards his uplifted palms. The finest mares in the kingdom nudged one another out of the way in an attempt to reach and retain the Househand's fond attention. In return, Lydis was amused to find that his guest swayed lovingly from snout to snout spreading smooth strokes and kind words equally amongst his adoring company.
A chef that was good with stable kin, now that was truly interesting.
"They take to you as though you're their original trainer."
Overjoyed green orbs shifted back towards him. "I'm good with animals."
Clearly. Lydis nodded to one of the stable staff on hand and stepped forward to receive the saddle he'd requested a short while ago. "Do you ride?"
For a moment, Alazay paused. Not looking at his superior he shrugged effortlessly and then resumed giving his light caresses to the horses. "I can but don't really like to. Something about being on the back of something so graceful without knowing if it really wants me to or if I'm just a burden to it—well, it makes me a little uncomfortable."
Uncomfortable? "Because you don't have the horse's consent?" He considered.
Before him the Househand gave one final, reluctantly retreating pat to the animals before turning to fully face the prince once more. "Is it really so strange?"
It was. But he didn't say so. Studying the other man thoughtfully, Lydis called back the stable staff that had loaned him the saddle and traded it quietly for reigns. Feeling the inquisitive pressure of his guest's eyes on him, he explained simply and warmly. "If you won't ride them but it brings you pleasure to be around them, then we'll take them out for a walk in the free acres behind the castle."
That look was simply too priceless. The way the older man's eyes regarded him brought to him some form of glee. Simply to be looked at like an equal made him appreciate this man. Smirking comfortably, the prince made a gentle approach upon his guest and extended one of the reigns. "Come," He murmured softly, "Walk with me."
Caught off guard by the improvision, Alazay stared at the prince quietly while another Househand busied herself drawing out the horses from their pins. Neither man seemed to notice. The more Alazay considered his younger counterpart, the stranger Lydis seemed in contrast to others within the royal line. In particular, Esrellia. Could they truly have been siblings?
He looked away. "Why are you treating me as such an honored guest?"
Softly penetrating the prince's quiet stare tracked his movements while he accepted the reigns of handsome mare of rich mahogany. "That is what you are, isn't it?"
Bewildered emerald clashed with corroding amber. The lighter of their pair shied gracefully away. "Marques."
He blinked, completely uncomprehending. "What?"
There was nameless brilliance in the prince's smile as he rested an elegant hand on the thick mane of the animal at his side. "Marques," he repeated proudly.
Understanding, the Househand caught the creature's liquid black eye and nodded respectfully to the majestic beast. Behind him, another horse was led into place over his shoulder and a set of reigns pushed quietly into his hand by the same young woman who'd offered Marques to the prince.
Startled by the sudden contact, Alazay glanced quickly back at the servant only to glimpse her retreating back. Looking helplessly up at the patient, ebon coated escort he'd received he perked a brow.
It wasn't until he felt the light brush of another's shoulder against his own that he realized Lydis had moved to his side. Offering an open palm, the prince smirked knowingly at the coy creature. "And this," he said quietly, "is my horse, Adian."
"Yours?"
He nodded, withdrawing to turn away and lead them out into the courts. "Marques belongs to Calin. He also shares my brother's temper." Over his shoulder the younger between them flashed a playful smirk. "I figured I'd know how to better handle him."
The sunlight stuck across their faces without the shade of the stable. Following in the prince's wake, Alazay shielded his eyes and drew in a refreshing breath, silently adoring the fresh air as though returning to paradise after a long separation.
His relish wasn't unnoticed. Ahead of him Lydis broke the atmosphere with good natured laughter. "I suppose indoor life is a curse to you," he called back in entertained tones. "Come up here with me."
Obliging, the Househand found space by his superior's left hand until they were pinned between their larger escorts. "I guess the outdoors suit me better," he admitted. "I just enjoy tasks in the sun."
Lydis looked nothing like any of the royal line now that he thought about it. Sidelong he studied the youth's undeniably handsome profile. Of all the royals he'd encountered, not one shared Lydis's beauty.
Oblivious to the scrutiny he was under, the prince chuckled. "You're a chef, are you not--for princess Esrellia?"
He flinched. "The princess," he began carefully, mindful of the position of his company, "is rather decisive about her diet so my services are better favored by the greater population of the p—"
"So she doesn't like your cooking and you don't like her," Lydis interjected. There was no overlooking or misinterpreting the amusement in that tone of voice.
Absently resting a comforting hand on the silken coat of his counterpart, Alazay watched him. "Your intuition is frightening," he chuckled, turning with their company to round the courts. "I suppose that is what will make you a good king someday."
A strange pause shifted between them at the comment without explanation and for a few yards, they walked in that sheltered atmosphere. Suddenly, Alazay heaved a flustered sigh and rested an agitated hand on the mane of his beastly companion. "The throne is better suited for one of my brothers," he admitted brashly.
Alazay started, blinking at him. "Sir—"
"Aren't culinary arts better left to our female counterparts?" the prince interjected suddenly with a twinge of curiosity that threw the Househand off the course of their previous topic.
Accepting the change gracefully, he nodded a little and stayed close to the young heir as they began to turn with the layout of the court. "I was lucky enough to be gifted with the ability to learn many trades quickly and happen to be skilled in their majority."
"And yet my sister is still unkind towards your kitchen manner?" There was a genuine ring of friendly teasing in the prince's voice and for a scant second, Alazay felt generously kind towards the man.
"I can't please everyone no matter how talented I may be," he submitted kindly. Glancing sidelong at the other man he added softly, ""How do you feel about her?"
That resounding laughter murmured between them again. "My feelings towards the princess are actually uncharacteristically livi—"
"Prince Lydis!"
Stopping midstride, the prince turned towards the calling, gently pushing away the wet nose that jutted out to obscure his range of vision. Approaching them from behind, a young Househand rushed to meet the prince halfway, long hair loosening from her bun when at length she drew to a paced halt before her prince. "
"Madeline," the young heir greeted her warmly, "hello."
Rushed but fluid in the motion, the Househand sank into a courteous flourish, quickly smoothing back her frayed hairs as a breeze picked them up to toy with the blonde strands. "Sorry to interrupt," she apologized, gaze pointedly sweeping over Alazay who had begun to mindlessly pet Adian's silken mane. "M'lady Emil is here seeking your company."
"I see."
Jade green attention swaying towards the prince, Alazay tried not to notice the wane in the other man's voice. "Who is Emil?"
He was refused eye contact. "Lady Emil Alexandré is the daughter of the countess of Himtal," was his quiet reply.
Alazay wasn't fooled by the response an turned silently inquisitive looks upon the servant still awaiting instruction. The girl cooperated flawlessly. "M'lady Emil is Lord Lydis's fiancé."
He blinked and watched the prince's face remain strangely stoic.
Fiancé?
There was no opportunity to further their discussion. Without explaining his thoughts, the prince was moving back towards the stable with uncanny agility, his oversized escort entering a light trot just to keep pace.
Alazay blinked, turning to follow. "Prince Lydis!"
He didn't pause in the least. In fact, he wasn't even thinking, completely oblivious to everything else in his way. His heart wasn't in his chest as he sprinted back to the stables and the castle. His mind was filled with nothing but worries—concerns of the highest order. How…how could she have risked this?!
…Returning to him even now…
END CHAPTER FIVE
J. DANIELS