Page 19 of Ruby & Onyx

I’m going to be sick.

Do all royals glow? I don’t want to sound ignorant or rude, so I refrain from asking that question. But, my gods, it is magnificent. How is it possible?

I bend into a deep curtsy until they nod their approvals. A wave of embarrassment washes over me as I realize that I’m still wearing my nightgown. The thin fabric does little to hide my figure, especially with the candles serving as back lights. I pull my hands across my body, trying to retain some sense of decency in front of the most powerful people on this continent.

“I apologize for my appearance, Your Highnesses,” I say, though I’m not entirely sure that it is the appropriate way to address them.

“No apology needed, Radya,” he says. How does the King of Mendacia know my name? There is no reality where I am on a first name basis with the king and queen. “Did neither of you think to dress her before bringing her here?”

He looks toward the creatures with nearly translucent scaly skin creeping beside them. If they do comprehend what his words, they don’t show it.

“You must have so many questions for us. Why don’t we head to the dining room to speak? Your friend can come along, too,” says the queen as she winks at Moose. She sounds calm and casual, as if she is speaking to a familiar friend, not me. Not Radya.

I’m racking my brain to put the pieces together, but I can’t figure it out.

Words escape me.

Do I have to do as they say? Can I run and escape? I feel sure that those creatures would catch me before I got very far. No, I don’t think I have a choice here. And so, I nod and follow closely behind the radiant royals as they exit the library, though just the simple act of walking is difficult at the moment. My legs feel like unsteady stilts that could topple at the slightest breeze.

We move through a room with arched windows at least twenty feet high on one side, surrounded by intricate shapes and faces carved into the stone. The first rays of sunshine are peaking above the horizon, casting a soft morning light into the room. Though no windows are open, it is light and airy as if a gentle breeze was sweeping through.

Above us, rows of floral bouquets hang from the ceiling, ivory blooms and verdant leaves spilling out over the sides of each one. Marble statues of scantily clad women in various poses rest between each window, their etchings so lifelike that I question if they could be real. Impossible, yes. But still, the thought lingers.

It reminds me of Lord Myles and Lady Lora’s estate, though it now seems both minuscule and shabby in comparison to the grandeur found here.

The creatures, who were beside the queen just a moment ago, have disappeared. Where did they go? Was I too distracted to notice them leave? There is no trace of them anywhere – not even their glowing red eyes.

I obediently follow as they turn into a dining room. Taking up the length of the room is a considerable slab of solid black marble resting atop claw-shaped legs of the same color. A meal fit for kings awaits us, carrying everything from berries to bacon. Even a cake with creamy white icing sits on a dessert tray elevated above the rest. Raspberries line the circumference on the top and bottom. My stomach grumbles at the sight, but I’m too unsettled to eat.

They sit side by side at the head of the oversized table. Before I can sit, a servant pulls out the chair and then hands me a thin wine-colored cloak. I thank him and wrap the cloak around my bare shoulders, leaving the hood down, even though I feel like hiding within its depths. I had almost forgotten about my state of undress, but now my embarrassment is back in full force, turning my cheeks a matching shade of red.

“Where should we begin?” The queen says to her husband.

They look so normal, except for the glowing skin, of course. I never imagined the rulers of Mendacia to be so casual. Nor did I expect to be sitting in a room with them, but here we are.

“Perhaps you should direct that question toward our guest, whom I’m sure has many questions,” he replies with a nod in my direction. “And please, eat.”

“Thank you.” I grab a biscuit from the center of the table to be polite, though I have no intention of eating it. It serves only to buy me a moment to collect my thoughts. Where do I start?

Think, Radya. Think.

After staring dumbly at them for far too long, I finally ask the simplest and most obvious question. The only question that seems coherent. “Where am I?”

“You are in Somne, the capital of Mendacia.” The queen takes a sip from her porcelain teacup and then raises her hands to acknowledge our surroundings. “This is our home, the Palace of Light.”

Surveying the room makes me shrivel and shrink to a tenth my size, or so it feels. Each gold-accented detail is more opulent than anything in Carcera. One piece of silverware must be worth more than my entire annual income – pension included.

As I thumb my fingers over the finely woven table cloth, reality starts to set in. I am in the royal household. The actual Palace of Light. A few minutes ago, I was asleep in my bedroom on the opposite side of the country. How many miles are there between Carcera and the Palace of Light? Gods, I don’t even know. Four hundred? I’ve never heard of anyone magically leaping across the country in a flash. How is that humanly possible?

The frenzy of panic takes hold of my mind, and I scramble to eke out, “How did I get here?”

“The invisibles ushered you here,” she explains casually, like the idea of floating through space and landing in the presence of the king and queen is a normal, everyday occurrence.

“How did they do it? What are they?” My ears are ringing.

“They are, as we call them, invisibles. They serve as our guardians, and they can usher others from one location to another.” She pauses to assess my understanding, or lack thereof. “You must have seen them throughout your life. Did you never wonder whose eyes stared back at you in the dark?”

The awareness of my own ignorance makes me want to curl into a ball and roll away, never to be seen again. It’s not that I never questioned their presence. Gods know that I did. I asked my mother about them when I was young, but she dismissed them as a figment of my imagination, a mere child’s fantasy. The more often they appeared, the more I questioned my own sanity. I believed that I was the problem, that there was something wrong with me. I kept my questions to myself after that. And eventually, my curiosity faded into complacency, though now that feels like an unforgivable ignorance.

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