Haelo Rising, page 9
I was a princess.
It resonated through me with the undeniable weight of the crown claiming my head. I felt that responsibility as if it had always been there. This wasn’t a conceptual dress-up anymore; royal stewardship warmed within my soul.
Posey jumped at the knock at the door.
“Ladies,” I whispered to the three of them. “The knife on my ankle stays between us, okay?”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
We made our way from the en suite to the sitting area. I gestured Katarina to open the door.
Griffin entered the room. “You are incredible.” He looked happy.
“Thank you. You, too.”
He raised an eyebrow.
The stylists and makeup artist left in a rush, Katarina blowing me a kiss on her way out.
Griffin watched them leave. “Are you ready?” he asked, turning back to me.
“Ready. No, wait.” I rushed back to the en suite counter where Katarina had placed the forgotten earrings I was supposed to wear. I faced the mirror and put them in. When I was done, I watched Griffin’s reflection behind me. He was trying to look at my face in the mirror, but I could tell he was fighting a fascination with my mosaic.
All this time, he’d been fated to marry the woman with the blue mosaic. And he’d done it. We were married. But he hadn’t yet seen the proof of who I was. Talk about trust.
I stayed facing the mirror. “It’s okay.”
His eyes narrowed slightly in an If-you’re-sure sort of way, and then he looked to my back. He stepped closer. Candeon mosaics are faint when dry, but he’d still be able to see the subtle periwinkle, turquoise, cyan, cobalt, and indigo scales on my back. In the ocean, they’d be much brighter.
I calmed myself and melted my senses into his aura. To my pleasant surprise, he wasn’t feeling lust or any of the other emotions I would have guessed as he stared at my exposed back. Instead, I felt his awe. I let my eyes stare blankly into space and exhaled, digging deeper into what he was feeling. Awe, and . . . respect. He viewed my mosaic the way he viewed his own: as a mark of responsibility. I saw his memories flash with images of his parents and portraits of his ancestors. That I had this mark on my back only solidified his view of me as a rightful queen by his side.
But he was also an eighteen-year-old boy. And that awe was quickly coming around to something more akin to what I had originally expected. I reached for my lacy shawl, wrapping it around my lower back and looping the ends loosely over my elbows. “Ready?” I asked.
Griffin shook himself. “Yes. Of course,” he said, offering his arm. We walked out of my suite and into the ornate hall, where Hank and Vernado stood guard beside my door.
“Haelo?” Griffin whispered beside me as we made our way back down the enormous staircase.
I glanced to him.
“It is beautiful. Your galázio mosaïkó.”
I could feel the lace shawl’s feather-light touch against the blue mosaic he spoke of.
He squeezed my hand resting in the crook of his arm. “Almost as beautiful as the soul of the woman who wears it.”
I blushed. We came to a stop well before the two large doors of the ballroom. I looked questioningly to Griffin.
“Before we go in,” he said, “I thought you’d like to say hello to some friends of yours.”
“Friends?”
His grin opened wide. “Yes. It is their bedtime, you see. They can’t stay for the reception.”
Giggles from the far end of the hallway caught my attention. Ellie, Milo, Niko, and Vinny hurried toward us, trying and failing to keep their excitement contained.
“You’re beautiful!” Niko said, clasping his hands in front of him as if trying not to reach out and touch my dress.
Vinny elbowed Niko in the arm. “She’s a princess. Of course she’s beautiful.”
“I am a very lucky man,” Griffin agreed, quite seriously. It was adorable.
“Are you going to dance?” Ellie asked. I couldn’t help but hear the longing in her voice. She and her twin brother Milo were old enough to stay, but I suspected they would head back home with little Niko and Vinny.
“We are. Would you like me to tell you all about it when I come visit? I’ll need someone to gossip with.”
She smirked. “I can help with that.”
“Deal.” I laughed.
Griffin crouched down to fix Vinny’s tie. “You look quite dashing yourself, young man,” Griffin said, his voice taking on his manlier, public-image, princely edge. Then he turned to Niko and Milo. “The three of you are going to take care of this young lady, right? Open her doors, mind her, protect her?”
Niko’s eyes crinkled. “Ellie doesn’t need my help. She’s big. She can do anything. When I got in trouble for throwing popcorn out our second-story window, Ellie made sure Mr. and Mrs. Vasquez didn’t ground me.”
Griffin chuckled and straightened Niko’s too-big suit coat. “Ah, yes. Women are incredible, aren’t they? They can do more than we can, that is certain. But I think”—he inspected the dashing little suits of the two young boys, then stood and nodded at Milo—“it is nice for them to know that we are here for them if they need us. Chivalry, gentlemen.” The two younger boys nodded simultaneously. “She may not need your protection, but be ready anyway.”
All four of them smiled, though Ellie sported a good-humored eye-roll.
“Good night,” I said, already wishing I could blow off the reception.
“Good night, Galana Miriam,” they chanted back. Ellie dropped Niko’s hand and leaned into me for a hug. I hugged her tight, gathered some courage from her, and then let her go.
“See you soon,” I added softly.
Griffin waited for me as I watched them head back down the hallway toward their guardians, Mr. and Mrs. Vasquez. When I was ready, I put my hand back in the crook of his arm. “Thank you,” I said, pondering what Griffin had been like at their ages, the years he’d spent preparing to be a prince instead of throwing popcorn out of windows. “That was exactly what I needed.”
Griffin stood straighter, looking to the ballroom doors. “I like them.”
“Me too.”
Not for the first time, I imagined Griffin as a father. He’d be all right, I thought pleasantly.
A rumble sounded in the distance. My heart leapt, panicking.
“Do not worry, my dear. It is only the fireworks.”
“Fireworks?”
“Yes, the city celebrates.” His smile was a mile wide. “As shall we.”
With a deep clank, two guards opened the tall doors to the ballroom beyond, and the excited chattering in the reception went quiet. Here goes.
After a moment’s pause, we stepped into the room, heads held high. My own aura sparked with the masses of auras around us. It was as exhilarating as it was uncomfortable. The thunder of the city’s fireworks continued to roll as we stepped farther into the enchanted ballroom.
It’s just one night. You’ve got this. I pulled my shawl tighter, effectively hiding my open lower back.
The colors of the empire draped everywhere: thick, puddling black tablecloths on the cocktail tables; raspberry-purple bouquets and slinky drapery; the starched white shirts of the waitstaff beneath their ebony suit coats; all tied together with the gilded chandeliers, golden cutlery, woodwork, frames, and the gold-rimmed glassware in the guests’ jeweled hands. High above, tiny gold and white lights floated like mellow lightning bugs or suspended snowflakes. Even the eccentric dresses and tuxedos surrounding me were mostly black and white, with a few creams or champagne-colored gowns. Though the room looked like one massive, organic, flowing empire flag, my claret gown stood out amongst the sea of black-and-white attendees.
On one long wall, water flowed from a scallop-shaped line of holes in the ceiling to a lighted grate along the floor, like a long, textured waterfall. Saltwater mist billowed gently at the floor grate and gave off a sense of refreshment, like a little taste of a dive. It rejuvenated me—and everyone else—as the party commenced.
Nobility gathered around, congratulating us. Delegates nodded their heads in approval. Griffin’s family and friends smiled and gushed. Waiters moved gracefully around the room with trays of food and champagne. A small orchestra of stringed instruments and the strange brass bowls played music from the corner opposite where Cora and Alcaeus stood on a slightly raised platform at one end of the room, accepting congratulations on our behalf.
We smiled. Nodded to bows. I only heard a few whispers about the hidden mosaic on my back.
It was a regular ol’ crush.
A waiter came around and offered us flutes of champagne. I shook my head, never having tried any sort of alcohol before and not at all willing to test out my reaction to it here. It didn’t escape my notice that Griffin had denied a drink before I had.
Lauryn approached, her hand tucked in the arm of Griffin’s cousin Lord Isander, her face an obvious warning that I was not to blow her cool. She leaned in and air-kissed my cheek as if it were the most natural thing to do, trilled a posh giggle, then snuggled ever so slightly into the muscles of Isander’s bicep, her smirk the epitome of Watch me work it.
I’d created a monster.
“I am happy for you, cousin,” exclaimed Isander with a hefty handshake to Griffin. He was older than us, attractive in a pretty-boy sort of way. He bowed to me. “And Galana Miriam, let me be one of many to welcome you to the family.”
“Thank you, Isander. Please, call me Haelo.”
“Galana Miriam,” he said with a respectful grin and additional bow.
Frijoles, I really am a queen. My fingers squirmed a bit in Griffin’s arm.
Isander gave Lauryn’s hand a caress. “Your exotic friend has captivated me all evening.”
Exotic? “I’d expect nothing less,” I said, trying not to laugh. She had Isander right where she wanted him.
In a swish of gold-embellished black taffeta with sharply pointed shoulder pads and a matching seahorse fascinator hat, old Aunt Helen came up behind Isander, her brittle voice at home among the stiff fabric of her dress. “Welcome to our family, Galana Miriam.” She looked over my face thoroughly.
I smiled as brightly as possible. “Efcharistó. I certainly do feel welcome.”
“I was disappointed when we didn’t get a chance to see your galázio mosaïkó in your wedding dress.” She looked pointedly to the shawl still wrapped against my back. “Others might start to wonder if you really do have it.”
“I can assure you, Aunt Helen,” Griffin said, cutting short Helen’s baited implication. “Galana Miriam Paramonos is the fated future queen. She is just as marked as I am.”
She squinted, nodded, and walked away. Isander tried not to react, but he and Griffin shared a tight look. Lauryn rolled her eyes.
There were only a handful of people in this city who had actually seen my mosaic: my brother, Dagger, Zeta, Lauryn, the two wedding stylists, and now, my husband.
Isander and Lauryn nodded their goodbyes and Isander escorted her away, no doubt to show off to the peerage that he had indeed secured the company of the exotic human. In a decidedly un-feminist gesture, Lauryn unapologetically ate up the noble-arm-candy attention. She was loving it.
I looked around the room, hoping to sense a flicker of my dad’s aura. But alas, no. He’d probably had enough of the festivities he had wanted nothing to do with anyway.
“You are doing wonderfully,” Griffin whispered to me.
A blush crept across my cheekbones before I noticed Dagger watching us from across the room. I must have hesitated, because Griffin turned to see who I had looked at. With a mature tuck of his head, Griffin escorted me through the room full of guests to where Dagger was standing.
“Cousin,” Griffin said, smiling tightly.
Dagger bowed. “Your Highness.”
“We once lived as brothers. Please drop the formalities.” Griffin put his hand on Dagger’s shoulder.
“As you wish, Griffin. I am happy for you.” Though a slight sadness etched his tone, Dagger sounded genuine. He looked briefly to me. “For you both. This is a good day for our world.”
Griffin released his hand from Dagger’s shoulder. “Yes, it is.” He cleared his throat. “I hope to see more of you?” Griffin’s tone seemed noticeably less genuine than Dagger’s had been.
“I came here on a hunch that Massáude would interrupt your wedding. But I am happy to see that I was wrong. I’m leaving tomorrow. There is still a threat out there, and I intend to end it.”
Griffin’s brow furrowed thoughtfully.
“Congratulations, Your Highnesses,” Dagger added.
“Thank you,” I said, though more of a whisper. Dagger bowed slightly and held it, waiting for us to walk away as Griffin led me back to the guests.
The evening progressed in a blur. I made it a point to speak sincerely with everyone I met. I wanted them to know me, but more importantly, I wanted to know them. It wasn’t required of me, I was quite certain, but when it was time for our first dance, I held Griffin’s gaze while I gently removed my shawl and then handed it to Hank, who took it like a good sport.
The crowd once again grew quiet and the orchestra started the dance’s introduction. I took Griffin’s outstretched hand and he led me to the middle of the dance floor. I felt all the eyes in the room on my back. Have at it, folks.
“Show-off,” Griffin murmured. His boyish grin made me smile.
I winked at him, feeling lighter with his answering laugh.
Griffin and I danced the first dance without hiccup. He was a great dancer. I felt both lithe and on point in his hands. The crowd clapped poshly when we ended the last turn. Griffin squeezed my hand.
The music started for the next dance and couples assembled on the dance floor. My smile faded as I watched Dagger escort Griffin’s cousin Iris to the far end of the floor. She’d made it clear to me months ago that she was interested in him. And it was obvious now. She giggled coyly as her hand on Dagger’s shoulder caressed him more than entirely necessary.
I refocused when Basileus Alcaeus took my hand for a dance. Either the crowd was no longer staring at my mosaic or I was getting used to it, because I didn’t really think much of my blue scales after that.
The Basileus wore a sharp velvet suit in a rich black, with a metallic gold tie, the front of his hair expertly twisted in a floof, for lack of a better word. The lights reflected in the gloss of his pointed shoes. I still hadn’t figured him out. There wasn’t anything that stood out as a red flag necessarily: Alcaeus wasn’t rude or suspect; he didn’t have questionable judgement or sketchy morals. There was, however, something about him that seemed . . . unreal. He was a mystery, but my gut trusted him.
“Thank you, Miriam,” he said in his pause-y Greek as we twirled around the room. The velvet in his suit had a metallic sheen to it.
“For what, Your Majesty?”
“For being the woman that you are. You will be good for Griffin. And for our people. You aren’t what I had expected you to be; I’m grateful to Fate for knowing better than I what our people need.”
Not what you expected? What was that supposed to mean?
He must have seen the question in my eyes. “Do not mistake my meaning,” he elaborated, now in English. “I only meant that I had hoped that a young woman from California raised away from most things unique to our people would be the kind of woman willing to acquiesce to those of us who knew the empire better. But I can see now that I was wrong. You are clever, thoughtful, curious—” He let go of my waist and spun me slowly beneath his raised arm. “Determined. You’ve worked hard, my dear. Voice your ideas, have your say. You have both Cora’s and my trust. I welcome you warmly to the family.” He dropped his voice. “I also welcome you to the table, so to speak.”
“Thank you,” I said, wide-eyed.
His eye line had locked on something to our right. I looked and saw Delegate Dragos speaking to President Specter and two of Alcaeus’s advisors: the Foreign Relations advisor Ben Ames and Elonia Satorrius, the Economics Advisor. The sight of Dragos made my jaw tense.
“And,” Alcaeus continued, “I welcome you to the shark tank.”
I danced with Grandpa Aaram, Neo, and even President Specter before my next dance with Griffin. “Hello, my beautiful wife,” he said when he took my hand for our second dance. “I was beginning to believe there would be no room for me on Galana Miriam’s dance card.”
I shrugged one shoulder playfully. “There’s always room for Basileus Griffin.”
He shook his head. “Prince Griffin. You are a Galana—you have as much of a right to those angelic responsibilities as my mother. There is room for two of you. But I am not a Basileus. Not yet. Until my father bestows the emperorship on me, he is the head of the monarchy. I am his, eh, how you say . . . apprentice.”
“Oh.” Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Dagger take Iris in another dance. They danced even closer this time. Iris’s long fingernails lay at the base of his neck like a cheap temptress.
In little ball gowns, Griffin’s twelve-year-old sister Princess Penelope and her companion waved at us from the edge of the dance floor. I waved back with the tips of my fingers resting in Griffin’s upheld hand, trying to remember and process Griffin’s words. Something about him being an apprentice.
Griffin smiled wide at the young girls. “Our future son or daughter born with the golden mosaic will wait for their turn to stand at the head of the monarchy as well.”
I didn’t mean to scowl, but I found myself trying to ease the furrow from between my eyebrows.
“That is, if we . . . do have a child. Of course.” He blushed, his aura twitching in innocent embarrassment. I could tell he regretted bringing it up. I certainly didn’t know what to say.
The music changed, but Griffin and I stayed together, our steps flowing into the next dance. I didn’t know where to look—the child comment had me all befuddled—and soon my gaze found Dagger again. For this song, he was dancing with Griffin’s older sister, Princess Hyacinth, whose rich auburn hair had been tousled into a bun on the side of her nape. She wore a sleek, understated cream-colored dress with long sleeves and deep V back, one of the most elegant and least fantastical dresses on the dance floor. I hadn’t seen much of her; she was the proverbial black sheep of the royal family. It was almost as if she preferred not to be a part of it. Though it surprised me, I didn’t blame her. There was a particular lack of everyday freedom that came with being tied to this crew. Distancing herself from her empirical parents was her way of being herself, I supposed.
