Two Worlds of Redemption Page 5

  A knock on the door shook her out of her thoughts. She snuck toward the entrance, extracting one hand as if she were pulling a weapon. Hardly anyone knew about her particular talent of battle magic, or the healing—just Maray, Jem, Heck, Goran, and Pete, and of course, Rhia, who had experienced it firsthand when she had thrown flames at her in the dungeons. She didn’t want to use it if it wasn’t necessary, but ever since she had started looking out for Maray, she was prepared to do so.

  She was almost there, the brown surface within reach, when an impatient voice complained from the other side of the wood. “Get over here and open that thing already, or do I need to do it myself?”

  A wave of relief released the tension in Corey’s muscles at the sound of Pia’s girly voice. Wil’s little sister—and Yutu-shifter—had taken on a habit of visiting uninvited ever since they had run into her at Neelis’ safe house. She was part of the shifter-pack which had saved the boys and Laura from the dungeons. Even if she’d stayed behind, a disgruntled, red-headed bundle of teenage defiance, Pia had forgiven her pack and her brother and was now considering herself Corey’s new sister. A thought Corey wasn’t completely averse to since she didn’t have family of her own.

  With a quick hand, she pulled the door open and looked into Pia’s expectant eyes.

  “About time,” the girl commented as she stepped over the threshold, lips pulled up at one side. She looked less like a twelve-year-old than she had a couple of weeks ago, and more like a young woman. The emerald dress might have something to do with that.

  “What are you wearing?” Corey popped her head outside the door and glimpsed to both sides before she pulled the door shut and followed Pia to the table where the girl was settling down, demeanor more like a Yutu than a lady. Her bright, red hair was sitting on top of her head like a flame Corey just conjured.

  “Haven’t you heard?” Pia asked with wide green eyes and waited for Corey to sit down, too. “The palace finally made the call.”

  Corey cocked her head to the side, acknowledging that what Pia was wearing wasn’t just any emerald dress. It was a special type of uniform—the gown of the handmaiden to the women of the royal family. On the belt right under her bust, the ornate ‘C’ of the Cornay family was embroiled into darker shades of green.

  “Are you insane?” Corey reached over the table and tugged on the leather parts of Pia’s sleeve. “Where did you get this?”

  “I have friends…” Pia winked and leaned back in her chair, looking less ladylike than even Maray in her otherworldly jeans, which she still sometimes wore inside the palace.

  “You stole it?” Corey concluded with wide eyes and wasn’t surprised to find Pia’s head bob.

  “Maray doesn’t need a handmaiden. She needs a guard in disguise,” Pia informed Corey, though it was something Corey was well aware of. Maray was used to doing everything on her own. In reality, she didn’t need anyone, and then everyone—still being a target, she needed the protection of all of them.

  “Aren’t you a little too young to start service?” Corey raised one thin eyebrow high enough to make it disappear in her hair, and gave Pia a sharp look.

  “Apparently, I am old enough to be married off,” Pia pointed out, fake nonchalance in her voice. “I am sure I am old enough to serve the royal family.” She ran a hand with dirty fingernails through the fiery strands on her head.

  There was a hidden sadness in her eyes that made Corey wonder what had happened to her, besides becoming a shifter. Wil never talked about his family, and neither did Pia. The snide comments about their mother were the only thing she ever heard—and they didn’t make their childhood look like a happy place. Still, happier than hers, maybe.

  “You are serious, aren’t you?” Corey realized, and she saw in Pia’s face that she was right.

  “If I am serving, at least my mom has a reason to be proud of me for once.”

  Corey felt how an instinct came to life inside of her—she wanted to protect the child. It was something entirely new for her. Friendship was different. This was almost a motherly feeling.

  “When’s the selection?” Corey asked, aware that this girl would never get the position the way she was acting now. A handmaiden to a royal needed countenance and skills other than tearing things apart with her teeth. She’d need to learn about clothes and textures and hairdos and everything connected to court protocol.

  “In a week.” Pia chuckled at Corey’s desperate expression. “Don’t worry, Cors,” she laughed. “I grew up in a noble household. I know how to behave myself.” She pulled up the skirt of her dress and rested her boots on an empty chair. “I just choose not to.”

  Maray

  Maray woke up to the shrill sound of a bell beside her bed. Not one bell—ten or more, judging by the sound of it. She sat upright before she even opened her eyes.

  “What in God’s name—?” She looked around and was greeted by the curious eyes of at least fifteen people. Her mother and father were among them.

  “At least your cursing-behavior isn’t all otherworldly teenager,” Laura whispered with a smile as she stepped forward to stroke back her hair as with a five-year-old.

  Maray had been pretending she didn’t know more than she was supposed to know, and Laura either couldn’t tell, or she was even better at that court-poker-face than she let on. Either way, their interactions had been nothing but friendly. At least her father was happy about it. She could tell by the look on his face how enthusiastic he was about them finally being a real family again—even with court restrictions because he was a foreigner from the other world and a commoner—but at least inside the palace walls, they were a real family.

  “Good morning,” Maray croaked with confused glances at the faces next to her parents. “What is going on?”

  Laura gave her a dignified look. “It’s the day of the choosing.” Her voice sounded around the room, triggering excited blushes on the girls’ faces.

  Maray leaned toward her mother and lowered her voice. “Why are they in my bedroom?”

  But all she got from Laura was a smile. She gestured at the closest of the girls, a short blonde with a charcoal dress, and the girl turned dangerously pink before she opened her mouth to speak.

  “If you allow, Your Royal Highness,” she addressed Maray, directed by Laura’s bidding, “the choosing runs for an entire day, from sunrise to sundown.” Her small, nervous eyes darted to the window where Maray found the familiar grey fog of mid-December.

  Her stomach clenched at the thought of being trailed by fifteen girls all day long. In Vienna in the other world, she would be preparing for Christmas with Gerwin, and she would spend her thoughts on what meal she would cook for their feast. Now, all she could think was ‘dumplings’. She swallowed.

  It didn’t matter what she would be doing in the other world. She was here now. She had to follow the rules of Allinan court, and she had to pick a girl who would be serving her for the rest of her life. It sounded a lot like slavery to her, but judging by the glow on their faces and the eager looks in their eyes, it was all they had ever dreamed of. And her mother and father had warned her to treat the girls with respect. She was a princess, and each one who wasn’t chosen would be carrying word about her to the public. It was probably worse for her than for any of the girls.

  Her eyes kept circling the room until they caught on a fiery red mane. Pia was eyeing her with humorous, green eyes. What was she doing here? Was she actually trying to become her handmaiden?

  “Thank you,” Maray tore her eyes from Pia and inclined her head toward the girl who had spoken.

  The girl did a curtsey and lowered her gaze.

  Laura clapped her hands, and the girls started circling around the room, each of them stopping right at Maray’s bed and introducing herself to her. Each of them emphasized her family name, which, to Maray, didn’t mean anything, except for the Pordin family. Wil and Pia Pordin were frequenters at court. She didn’t even remember all of the names. Besides Pia, there was a He
idi, a Genni, a Carla, and a Tara. She remembered them because they were the ones who didn’t shy away from her gaze as they approached her and curtseyed.

  All Maray wanted to do was let herself sink back into the cushions, but she tucked her smile onto her lips and sat through the introduction round, almost losing her patience when her mother finally informed her about the schedule for the day. She was going to be dressed five times. Each time, three of the girls would work together to put her into appropriate clothes for five different occasions. It would all start with a family breakfast, then a walk in the park, lunch with the nobles at court, a meeting with the council, and finally a dumpling feast at night where she would have to announce her choice.

  Maray took a deep breath and nodded at Laura and Gerwin, who were directing the girls into groups of three. Gerwin winked at her, and she felt instantly better. At least he was finding this as hilarious as she was. Of course, he would never let anyone notice. It was only Maray who was able to see that slight change in his face. Living alone with her father for five long years had worked wonders with regards to reading him—despite his diplomat-demeanor. She knew him.

  “Let the games begin,” she whispered to herself as Laura ushered the girl into position.

  “See you at breakfast, Maray,” Gerwin said with the slightest of humor in his undertone, and Maray watched them walk out and leave her to her fate. She ground her teeth.

  It took a minute until the room was clear except for the three who were supposed to get her ready. She knew she was supposed to not do anything by herself today, but all she really wanted was to slip into a hoodie and sink back into a dream of something less awkward.

  “Allow me, Your Royal Highness,” one of the girls asked. She had white-blonde, shoulder-length hair and pale-blue, curious eyes. “What games would you like to begin?”

  Maray bit back the urge to cry out loud about the absurdity of the question before she remembered what misbehaving could do to her image as a princess, to the image of the entire Cornay family.

  “Nothing, Genni, is it?” She forced her smile to widen a bit. “Your hair is lovely. So shiny, like spun silver.”

  The girl blushed and smothered a nervous giggle. “I treat it with a magic solution that is supposed to make it soft like silk,” she admitted, and Maray wished she hadn’t brought it up.

  The girl stepped closer and reached for Maray’s blanket. “May I?” She asked but didn’t wait for Maray to nod. With a swift movement, she pulled back the covers and held out a hand for Maray to help her out of bed. Maray awkwardly took it and slid to the edge of the mattress. From the other side of the room, the two others arrived with a stack of fabrics like she’d never seen in her life.

  “Thaotine garments, Your Royal Highness,” a short, dark-skinned girl informed her. “My father is a merchant, and these are fresh from the southeast of the continent.”

  Maray wondered where that might be in her world. Turkey? Maybe India?

  The third girl was excessively clumsy, almost pulling out Maray’s hair as she helped her slip into one of the dresses the other one had chosen. Maray ignored the burning pain on her scalp and put on a brave face.

  It took about thirty minutes until she was presentable in the girls’ eyes and they let her exit her room to join her parents at the breakfast table situated in a small room between their chambers.

  Maray found her first authentic smile when she discovered that Heck had taken the shift as the guard at her door. He inclined his head, black hair sliding forward over his cheeks, and returned her smile with a buoyant grin. Behind her, the three girls were following like puppies.

  “You came here purely to watch the circus,” Maray accused him with a chuckled whisper as she passed by him, and he gave her a nod and fell into step beside her, demeanor all guard, but his face playing an infinite spectrum of amusement.

  “Just to see you suffer,” he confirmed with a choked-back laugh and stood straight at the door to the breakfast area, one hand extended to open it for her.

  Maray kept her face polite, despite what she wanted to say to him, and crossed the threshold.

  “Your Royal Highnesses,” Heck announced Maray according to court protocol, “Her Royal Highness, Princess Maray.”

  Maray refrained from rolling her eyes, imagining how the girls behind her swooned at Heck’s perfect soldier body and his warm chocolate eyes. If they knew Jemin, they wouldn’t look at Heck like that. It was an afterthought she wished wouldn’t be pushing itself to the front of her consciousness all the time. Especially not with Jemin and Seri working so closely together. Maray was actually jealous. Even if Jemin wasn’t going to react to Seri’s allure, it was only a matter of time until Maray would have to cut him out of her life and he’d seek comfort in someone else’s arms. Maray’s composure slipped for a mere fraction of a second, but it was enough for Heck to notice something was wrong.

  “You all right, Princess?” he asked in a whisper as she crossed the threshold.

  Maray nodded.

  The three girls positioned themselves at the door and watched her with expectant eyes the moment she took a seat—as did Laura.

  With a growing sense that she was missing something, Maray turned from one to the other, trying to remember what she was supposed to do.

  Gerwin tilted his head to the side with a significant look on his lined face, trying to indicate something, but Maray didn’t understand until, when the silence became increasingly awkward, behind the girls, Heck started gesturing. His hands pointed at Maray, then at the girls, then at Maray again, and then at the door, his face grimacing as he waved out the open door.

  “I apologize.” Maray got back to her feet. “I was very pleased with your assistance. You may leave,” she dismissed the girls, who each did a curtsey before they exited the room, still facing her with looks of reluctance and excitement. Their duty was done for the day, but they would linger in the palace until the ceremony in the evening. For now, Maray was glad they were gone, and she was free to let her posture slump into the chair.

  Heck closed the door behind the girls and stood still as a statue.

  “Not the way I would have done it but certainly graceful enough,” Laura commented and shot Gerwin, who was laughing, a sideways glance. Her lips were twitching, too, though.

  “This is horrible.” Maray pulled on her plaid dress. “I don’t want to be dressed every day, Mom. Can I please not have a handmaiden?”

  Laura shook her head. “Your duty as a Princess of Allinan…”

  “I know.” Maray was fully aware there was no way around it. She grabbed a piece of bread from the silver tray and placed it on the table.

  “Heck, why don’t you join us?” To Maray’s surprise, Laura pulled out a chair next to her and offered it to a flabbergasted Heck, who struggled a moment to find his usual humor, then with a grin strode to the table and took a seat.

  “Thanks, Your Royal Highness,” he said with a politer tone than Maray had seen on him in a long time. This seemed to actually mean something to him.

  “Hendrick Brendal,” Laura addressed him, using his full name. “How are Sara and Emir doing?”

  Heck’s eyes darted to Maray and back to Laura. “My parents are doing well, I guess, Your Royal Highness.” His hands were fiddling in his lap. “I haven’t seen them in a while.”

  “Why is that?” Gerwin asked with an authentically interested face.

  Maray, not thinking about the nuisance of princess duties for once, found her parents’ sudden interest in Heck as surprising as the wakeup call this morning.

  Gerwin poured a cup of Viennese coffee and offered it to Heck. Servants were excluded from breakfasts. That was the only unobserved family meal they had, and Maray was grateful, for most servants still stared at her as if she was the actual Queen of Allinan stepped out of a picture.

  With a somewhat awkward grin, Heck took the cup from Gerwin’s hands and waited for Gerwin to drink from his own cup before he took a sip himself. Maray watc
hed in wonder as Heck’s boyish, rebel nature transformed into a full-blown noble demeanor. His posture was suddenly straight, his grin smoothed into a merely polite line, his eyes were proud, and his every movement exuded confidence.

  “That is because my mother doesn’t approve of my life choice, Ambassador,” Heck informed Gerwin truthfully. “And my father hardly speaks to me because of it. He thinks it unworthy of the Brendals’ station to be a soldier—even a guard of dimensions.”

  Laura nodded. “Emir and Sara have been loyal friends of the crown,” she said with a tone that had more meaning than the actual words. “I can understand they would want to see their son in a position worthy of their own station.”

  “If you allow, Your Royal Highness,” Heck set down his cup, “what could be more worthy, more honorable than protecting the realm by protecting its borders?”

  Neither Laura nor Gerwin had anything to add, but Maray saw something in Heck’s eyes that she had never seen there before. It wasn’t his usual rebellious defiance of hierarchy and his noble heritage. It was a glimpse of a different Heck, a Heck with deep thoughts and rich emotions. He lowered his head, and a curtain of dark hair hid the new Heck away from Maray’s sight.

  The second set of girls was a farce. Maray had barely made it through the dressing for the walk in the park without injuries from rogue needles as one of the girls sewed a seam on a newly-made gown. To top it up, the clothes they’d chosen weren’t exactly practical for a princess who was in constant danger and might need to run and jump through hedges, maybe even fight.

  The lunch team was a bit better, as were the girls for the council meeting in the afternoon. But it wasn’t until the preparations for the dumpling feast and announcement ceremony that Pia’s red mane showed up in Maray’s chambers.

  “Hi, Princess,” she waved as she stepped in, leaving the other two girls with mouths hanging open and glancing at each other in a fairly judgmental way.