Haelo Rising, page 6
He didn’t move.
“It’s a letter. The pink one?” I said, and sensed as his aura sparked with curiosity—notably not more anger. “I had your pack when I left Hawai’i. It was inside.”
He shifted his stance ever so slightly.
“Dagger. Talk to me. Please.”
“It might be best if you called me Colonel Stravins.”
I reeled back.
“And if you have anything else from that pack, I’d appreciate it if you returned that as well.”
“I—” I struggled to organize my scattered thoughts. “I turned over everything else to General Stratos; the run-bag from the tunnel in San Diego, too.”
He turned around, his hands in his pockets, veins in his forearms straining. “But you kept that?” He ticked his jaw in the direction of the side table with the pink envelope.
“Yes, I didn’t think it was—well, it seemed like something you’d want returned to you directly. It’s from Rebecca, right?”
He was a statue.
“Is that why you’re so angry with me?”
“Angry with you?” He asked it like he was trying to understand my language, not my meaning. “Because you went through my letter?”
“No. I mean, yes. But—” I exhaled, stalling momentarily. “Are you angry with me because of Rebecca? I was the one she was protecting when she was taken. It’s my fault that she’s gone. I know what she meant to you.”
He looked away from me.
“Dagger.” My voice went soft. “Why did you come back if you don’t want to be here?”
He finally returned his gaze to me. “I came back because I believe Massáude will strike at your wedding. I will be the one to kill him.”
The mood in the room turned dark. I swallowed against my first reaction to remind him that Massáude was to be arrested, tried, and convicted, not murdered.
He bowed his head for a moment, sighing. “I’m not angry with you.”
“You’re not?”
“I’m not in a good place.” He ran a hand over the top of his head. “I’m sorry if you got the impression that my anger was directed at you.”
I stood. “I felt your aura, Dagger. That night during the battle . . . you were angry at me.”
“You were an easy target.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means my life makes more sense when I’m angry at you!” His hand scrubbed his face, his movements jerky. “Lo, you’re getting married. And I practically told you I loved you.” His face warmed red, contorting with disgust. “And then I was captured. I listened to others endure horrific torture because Massáude knew that torturing me wouldn’t break me, but hurting others just might.” He took two steps closer to me.
My chest ached with horrible, horrible assumptions.
“I am filled with anger,” he said. “At Massáude, at my uncle Karchardeus, at the entire Basileus/Galana fated royal magic. At Fate! So very, very angry. And yes, Haelo, I was angry with you back in Atlantis.” He cleared his throat, his voice returning to a professional sort of coldness. “But like I said, only because you were an easy target. Hating you smothers my other feelings.”
He stared at me as if willing me to understand his perspective. “That’s what the letter says.” He looked to Rebecca’s letter on the table. “To move on. It’s a farewell from Rebecca after she broke our engagement. She told me that I deserved a life with a woman by my side that I could love as much as she loved me. A family. I kept it to remind myself that my time will come.” He took the remaining steps to stand inches in front of me. His chest moved with his calculated breaths. “If I’m angry with you, then maybe I won’t wish that the woman Rebecca spoke of was you.”
With that, he stepped to the side and made his way to the open door, where he waited for me. “Good night, Miss Marley.”
5
Something Old, Something New
I was awake when an entourage of professionals came bustling into my suite to primp, paint, brush, curl, and then squeeze me into a wedding dress. Awake, though still buried in bedding. I wanted nothing more than to stay under my covers and hide. After all that I’d heard from Dagger last night, the idea of getting married in a few hours made me want explode.
“Your Highness?”
I didn’t move from my cocoon.
“Your Highness? We really must get going.”
I swung the covers off, sitting up. “Yes, ma’am.”
The woman closest to me blushed pink at my impatience. Or maybe at the fact that I’d called the staff ma’am.
I left them to plan their attack in my suite’s sitting area while I showered, put on my unmentionables and a robe, and towel-dried my hair. Then they bustled into the glamorous bathroom and plunked me down on my vanity stool.
There were two people for hair; one for make-up; two nail technicians; the tablet-carrying, order-giving lead stylist Katarina; and her assistant Posey. My assistant Jemma stood like a boss in the back. Though I had a ridiculously large bathroom, it was starting to feel claustrophobic.
One of the manicurists whistled at the sight of the damage that my extensive training had done to my nails.
“Sorry about that,” I said, not sure why I was apologizing.
The minutes dragged on. My head bobbed with the pulling brush strokes of the blowdryer-wielding hair stylists. I flinched with each pluck of the tweezers. I had no complaints, however, when a massage therapist came in to work the tension from my shoulders while fat rollers cooled in my hair.
The other manicurist put something tingly and wonderful on the bruises of my right hand, for which I was extremely grateful.
The makeup artist also had her way with me; I wasn’t such a fan of someone else putting on my mascara. And the thin scar on my right jawline—a present from Karchardeus—proved to be quite the little fighter; no matter how much concealer, foundation, or contouring magic the makeup artist employed, that tiny little scar refused to completely blend in.
“Would you excuse us, please?” came a deep voice from behind me. I opened my eyes to see a familiar young man in a crisp pair of slacks and expensive white shirt. “I’d like to speak to my bride.”
“Of course, Your Highness,” said Katarina and Jemma. Jemma pointed out the door once, and the whole beauty entourage shuffled out of the bathroom.
I tried to stand, but Griffin waved me to stay seated. I wasn’t sure what to say. Isn’t it bad luck to see the bride on her wedding day? didn’t feel right. So, we doing this thing? didn’t seem any better.
“You look beautiful,” he exhaled. “An angel, really.”
I glanced sideways, acutely aware of the rollers still in my hair.
“Here.” He handed me a wide jewelry case, the kind for a single necklace. “It’s from my great grandmother’s wedding. My mother wore it on her wedding day.”
“Thank you.” I gently placed the case on my lap.
“You’re welcome. My sister Hyacinth was actually the one to mention it.” He smiled, but it looked painful.
“I’ll be sure to tell her thank you.” I stilled. There was something important he needed to say; something that had me all sorts of nervous.
He clasped his hands loosely together, pausing briefly before finally speaking. “Haelo.” He took another moment, making the uncomfortable-factor even worse. As much as I knew I was going to cringe at what he was about to say, he really needed to just come out with it. “Do you remember when you told me you were ready to get married?”
“Outside Atlantis,” I confirmed. “At the end of the battle.”
“Yes. You told me that you had already given away your heart to someone else.”
My face flamed red. He put up his hand to keep me from defending myself. But I wasn’t planning on saying anything. “I didn’t ask you who it was. I won’t ask you who it was. But. . . .”
My eyes widened, though my gaze was now focused on the marble floor.
Griffin twisted, looking momentarily back to the door. “Do I need to be worried?”
“No,” I said, praying it was the truth.
“Are you prepared to be married, Haelo?” His question packed no small amount of stone-cold finality.
I looked him in the eyes. “Like I told you before, I am ready to be the Galana by your side. And I will remain loyal to you.”
“And you understand there are expectations that come with our marriage?” He put his hand up again. “Public expectations. Expectations of propriety. Decorum. Respect.”
“Of course.”
He nodded solemnly. A slow moment ticked by. “My dear, the staff is gossiping.”
“About what?” I asked, startled by how the conversation was veering.
“You were seen last night—on the eve of our wedding—going into Ridion’s room.”
Ridion. Dagger. Two names for the enigma that was my former bodyguard: his hush-hush given name, and his Krypteia identity.
“I. . . .” Although my head held a sweeping list of things I could say to honestly explain myself, my tongue wouldn’t cooperate.
“I am not accusing you of anything.” He took my hand in his, then waited until we made eye contact. “I know that nothing happened between you and my cousin last night. But the staff does not know that. I am asking you to remember who you are in the eyes of our people. You will be a married woman. There are things you cannot do because of that.”
“I understand,” I said, a crack in my voice. “Griffin, nothing happ—”
“I know. I trust you.”
“You do?”
“You are about to be my wife. I wouldn’t go through with this if I thought otherwise.”
“Even though I told you I loved another?”
It was a low thing to do, but I couldn’t help it: I pushed my senses out, enveloping his aura, intruding on his emotions. I had to know what he really felt. And when the truth hit me—that he was indeed fighting back jealousy at the months-old image of me collapsed in Dagger’s arms in the Fire Room of the palace moments after I had earned my pola ring rights—I exhaled in regret. Griffin would never ask me who I had given my heart to because he already knew.
And still, he trusted me.
Or more likely, he trusted Dagger.
He didn’t answer my question more than a slight nod and a small, strained smile. He lowered himself in front of me, pulling my hand closer to his chest. “We are about to make vows to each other in front of—and for—an entire race of people we are fated to protect. But I want to promise you this, now, while we are alone.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “This is not just a public display for me. Every vow I make today, I take seriously. I will stay loyal and true to you forever.”
My throat dried. “Griffin. I—”
“You don’t need to say anything. I just wanted you to know that.” He stood, adjusted his shirt, and sighed, smiling tight. Then, “One more thing.” He waved a hand at his guard Vernado, stationed at the door to my suite.
The door opened and the last person I expected to be here rushed into the room, eyes wide.
“Lauryn?” I stood from my chair, shocked.
Griffin cleared his throat. “Your brother told me how much she means to you. It took a while to convince my father to allow her into the island. I’m sorry I couldn’t get her here sooner.”
Lauryn’s mouth fell open—half amazed, half giddy—as she launched herself into my arms. Over the top of our hug I mouthed the words thank you to my fiancé.
“I will see you soon, my dear.” He nodded, still somewhat somber, and then left.
Lauryn pulled back, bouncing on her feet. “Girlfriend. . . .”
“You’re here. You’re actually here.” The shock hadn’t yet worn off.
“Of course I’m here! Your elite-security-magical-hidden-island crap couldn’t keep me away. Dang, I’ve missed you.”
I brought her back in for a fierce hug, her pink dress swishing against me. My best friend was here for me. Someone who had absolutely no skin in the candeon game was here simply because she loved me. I squeezed her even tighter. “What did you tell your parents?”
“I bought a European tour package. Well, full disclosure, your fiancé bought me a tour package.” She let go, shrugging. “My parents think I’m Instagramming my way through Europe with Ashlee and Olivia on a pre-college find-myself adventure. Stop with the scowl, Haelo; you’re getting married today and you’re too young for forehead creases.”
“I wasn’t scowling.” At least, I didn’t mean to. Something about watching Lauryn describe life after high school—about finding-herself adventures and planning for college—made me feel funny. Not envious, exactly. Not even like I was missing something. If anything, it made me even more secure in my choices, as if the life Lauryn described was never really meant for me, and seeing it unfold for someone else only resonated that security.
“What about all the pictures of Europe you’re not posting?” I asked her, holding back a contented sigh.
“Oh, I’ll get there. Trust me. Griffin’s tour package is not going to waste; I’m meeting up with Olivia and Ashlee in Italy tomorrow.” She looked me up and down in that proud-bestie sort of way. “For now, I am one hundred percent here for you.” She leaned in closer, taking both of my hands. “You have the weight of the world on your shoulders, Lo. Whatever you need from me, anything at all, it’s yours.”
I nodded, too emotional to say anything.
“Wait. Stop. Haelo, don’t cry! You’ll make me cry and then it will be a whole thing and you’ll have red puff bags under your eyes in your bridal portraits and that is definitely something I cannot stand for.”
“I’m so glad you’re here, Lauryn.”
“Me too.”
“I need a friend.”
“I’m going to friend the crap out of you. Are we talking ‘serious emotional support’ kind of friend where I get to validate every deep, inner thought you throw at me? Or are we talking about sarcasm, gossip, and snacks? Because I am prepared for either.” She fished around in the purse on her shoulder, pulling out a packet of tissues and a bag of cinnamon bears. “I’m loaded.”
“Definitely snacks.”
“This is why we’re friends.”
She ripped open the bag with her teeth and came around to sit on the counter. She popped a gummy in her mouth and tossed one to me. “Are we going to talk about the fact that you’re an actual real-life princess?”
“Pretty nuts, huh?”
“You live in a palace inside a freaking island cave. And your bedroom is bigger than my house. And I took a private jet and a helicopter to get here. We’re past nuts. Remind me how we feel about this? Happy? Excited? Where’s-the-exit-it’s-time-to-run?”
“Yes.”
Her eyes bugged. “Which one?”
“All of it. Except I’m not running.”
“He’s prettier than I imagined. And the prince I imagined was pretty.”
“He’s not bad on the eyes,” I agreed.
“You’re sure about this? I mean, I’m not trying to talk you out of it. It’s a big deal, Haelo.” She looked around my sparkling en suite. “Shasta, this is a big deal.”
“I’m all in. This is what I’m supposed to do.”
“How romantic.”
“I’m serious,” I assured her. “It feels right. My whole life, there were so many things I couldn’t control, but this is something that feels one hundred percent like my decision. It didn’t always feel that way, but I get it now. And I never want to lose control again.”
“So this is you taking control?”
“Yes. I’m choosing to make these vows.”
She eyed me for a moment, holding a cinnamon bear in her hand, then leaned back against the mirror. “All right then. You’re getting married,” she sighed. “To a prince. Please tell me there are cousin princes around here somewhere. I have expectations.”
“A few.” I smiled, trying really hard not to think about one cousin in particular. “Neo will be there, obviously.”
“I know. I’m sitting by him at the ceremony. He and I are going to chill afterward. He even said he’d escort me to the reception.”
“He used the word ‘escort’?”
“Yep. I told him I wanted the works. Again, expectations.”
I spent the next half hour in a daze. While my hair was teased, brushed, sprayed, picked, and pinned, and while Lauryn interjected her own beauty opinions to the staff and pushed me for any details I hadn’t already shared over the phone over the last few months of my life, my mind couldn’t stop thinking of Griffin’s words. I wanted to hit myself for not asking before exactly what vows I would recite today. Would my integrity be intact at the end of this ceremony? Could I honestly commit to everything I was about to vow?
I felt detached from the moment. Like I was in slow motion, but the world around me was fast-forwarding. Lauryn was both my grounding lifeline and my emotional escape hatch.
“We’re ready for your dress, Your Highness.”
“What?” I asked, shaking myself from my thoughts, unsure what she had said through her thick accent.
“Your dress?” The stylist extended her arm in the direction of the dressing room.
“Right.” I stood from the tufted stool. Lauryn muttered something questionable about the stylist’s outfit: a flamboyant purple pencil dress trimmed in the dotted hide of a sting ray. My shut-up backhand tap to her arm cut off her rude mumblings. “They speak English,” I whisper-warned her.
Katarina, Posey and Lauryn followed me into the closet dressing room. Posey shut the door behind us. With a dramatic flourish, she opened the doors of the oversized, ornate armoire set in the middle back of the large room. Her words tumbled from her mouth so quickly in an ecstatic gush that I couldn’t pick up very much of the Greek she was speaking. But it wasn’t hard to deduce that she was completely in love with the dress.
