In Chains - C. Noble (ebook reader ink TXT) 📗

aren’t as good. Come back here tomorrow with Will and Mary Ann and we’ll see.” Dawson shrugged and walked back into his hut without another word.
Happily Darcey grabbed her new surf board and headed up the mountainous stone stairs, looking forward to tomorrow. She had gotten used to the three mile hike, and could do it now in less than twenty minutes. Hindered now by the bulk of the surf board, it took her more than half an hour, but she still made good time. Maybe her father would agree to come tomorrow.
Darcey had just stashed away her new board in her room when her mother followed by an army of servants came rampaging into her stadium sized bedroom.
“Darcey Thessilia Love, where have you been?” Her mother’s shriek met Darcey’s ears with all of the pleasantness of a cold bucket of ice water dumped down one’s back. “I’ve been surfing, Mom. Like I do every day. Why?”
“Why? Why! We’ve got the royal families and governors of the twenty surrounding islands coming to dinner tonight, plus our own nobility! You’ve been surfing while we’ve been running around like madmen trying to find you! So, how was your lesson?” Just as quickly as the anger arose, it died again. Darcey stood still before replying: “Oh, it was good. Dawson finished my surf board. Do you think Dad could come down and surf with me tomorrow?”
“Oh honey, this isn’t a very good time. We’re still dealing with letters from General Thane on Obweji, and most of the guests will need to stay overnight. No, I don’t think he’ll be able to come. Neither will you, come to think of it. You’re needed here,” her mother beckoned to a girl holding a more elaborate maroon and gold version of the green skirt and top that Darcey had been favoring. This one featured a prominent golden crown surrounded by clusters of diamonds and rubies.
“Now get ready, love. Tania here will assist you. Tania, if you will…” her mother nodded towards the girl with the dress and left.
“Princess, if you will only come into your bathroom, we’ll have you fixed up in no time.” Tania took her hand and led her into Darcey’s mammoth bathroom and plunked her into a bathtub the approximate size of a swimming pool. The hot water felt both refreshing and suffocating; it was nearly thirty degrees outside as it was.
Two relaxing hours later, the fleet of servants were anxiously combing and arranging her hair in complex twists and curls, overseeing to her dress, or just generally milling about in a panic. Darcey was poked and prodded the entire time, wondering when she would be free to go.
Hours passed as Darcey was groomed to perfection. The servants had dissipated about an hour ago, leaving only Tania and three others whose names she did not know. Her new dress, a kind of island formal, had a similar bikini top to her casual outfit, but this one had braids woven with golden thread that strung around her neck before meeting in a gold ring in the middle. The skirt parted up to her knees, but swept behind her on the ground, with a considerable train.
The dark red silk wrapped around her feet as new golden heeled sandals were presented to her. The matching silk soles were soft to her feet. Dozens of small golden bracelets were slipped over her feet and hands, clanking together in a kind of chorus. Her dark hair was raised in a dramatic pompadour above her forehead, but fell to below her waist in grand curlicues. A short series of twists had procured a thin braid behind each ear that fell over her shoulders and almost reached her hips.
Her mother came in just as Darcey-the-princess was being finished. Thessilia appraised her daughter from afar. Darcey walked up to her, smiling. Tania walked up to her queen and presented the golden crown-like tiara that Darcey was to wear. Thessilia carefully picked it up and placed it just in front of her daughter’s pompadour, on top of the gold band with her name on it.
“Tonight, people will know who you are. Come, my child, it is time for you to be seated.” Her mother took her hand and led her out of her room. The walk to the massive dining room and adjacent grand ballroom had never felt so short. It seemed that mere seconds passed before she entered with her mother at her side and took her place at her father’s left hand.
Everyone had arrived already, include Will and Mary Ann and their families. The gentlemen all stood while Darcey and her mother were seated, and sat themselves after the women had tucked their silk napkins on their laps. Will sat next to Darcey, with Mary Ann on his other side. Darcey glanced at her father, knowing that this arrangement must have been his doing.
Dinner was a rather loud affair. Everyone was trying to talk to each other, to their hosts, and to the returning nobility at the same time. The effect was a rather boisterous gaggle of confused banter, wherein only one word in ten was distinguishable. There were too many people to remember, but each insisted on making some sort of impression on Darcey.
It was nearly ten o’clock when dinner finally broke and the hordes of guests made their way to the baseball-field sized ballroom. Miguel and Thessilia began the dancing by sharing a waltz. Soon the Dosciers and Palmas joined them, followed by the royalty and nobility of their neighboring islands. Only their children remained still. There were a handful of teens still wandering around aimlessly.
Will had asked Mary Ann to dance on request of his parents, leaving Darcey without her allies. She saw the daughters of other kings and queens head to the floor with sons of counts and lords, one of which was Dante. Eventually this whittled the number of potential partners to just two: Darcey, and an unknown boy standing alone behind a massive white marble column.
Darcey was naturally curious, a characteristic she recently learned to be related to her birth animal, the doe. She skirted the massive ballroom dodging in and out of the columns until she came to the one where her mystery guest was hiding behind. He had started to move away. Determined, Darcey jumped around the pillar and cornered him.
He took a step back, surprised. His face was hidden in the shadows, but his strong shoulders were visible underneath his deep purple tunic. Ever the doe, Darcey quietly asked him: “Step into the light…”
The mystery boy obeyed. Slowly his face was revealed to possess a strong jaw, upturned lips, a straight nose, high cheek bones, and the blackest of black eyes flecked with purple shards. He had thick black eyelashes and arched black eyebrows. His tanned forehead ended with remarkably messy black hair which did not at all match the rest of his neat and orderly appearance.
Darcey stared at him, willing him to talk. He met her eyes but refused any other kind of acknowledgement. An uncharacteristic flare of proud anger made her shoot out her hand and grab his muscled upper arm, dragging him father out of his corner. His gaze slid off of her and began roaming the ballroom, a distinctly bored look on his face. For one reason or another it infuriated her.
“Just who do you think you are?” Darcey demanded, a strained politeness in her voice. When she received no reply, she hissed: “Answer me! I am Princess Martinaque, and I demand to know your identity.” Her voice took on a haughty quality, one she had never possessed. It was also the first time she had used her full title, and it had an ironic quality about it to her.
He sighed and reluctantly replied, “Sanchez. Hadrian Sanchez.”
A silence had overcome them both. Darcey had seemingly lost her voice, Hadrian refused to use his. This kept up until the end of the waltz when Darcey saw her parents approach, laughing familiarly with a couple that she had never seen before.
“Ah, so you two have finally found each other. Well, it’s about time, isn’t it,” the man said jovially. Darcey’s bewildered feelings must have played out on her face, for her mother quickly stepped in.
“Darcey, this is King Julian Sanchez and his wife, Queen Jolene. And this,” her mother winked as she gestured to Hadrian, “is Prince Hadrian Sanchez, who you evidently have already met.”
“I am sorry that we have not been able to meet you sooner, Princess Darcey,” Queen Jolene said, extending a tanned hand reminiscent of her son’s skin tone. Her eyes held the same purple shards as Hadrian’s. “But we have been busy on Marseille, the island from which we hail and rule.”
“P-Princess Darcey, we are honored to make you’re a-acquaintance,” King Julian burped. Evidently he had had too much wine. But his messy hair was exactly like his son’s, and that was not a result of too much alcohol. “Now son, ask your hostess to dance! Your governesses taught you better.”
Hadrian appraised his boisterous father for a moment before turning to Darcey and asking her if he might have the pleasure of dancing with her. Darcey nodded, holding her head in an imitation of his, arrogantly high. Outwardly she radiated confidence, inwardly she was quivering with fear. She had paid little attention to her dance lessons with Madam Rosita the past month, focusing instead on the ballet of riding the waves.
She was surprised when her feet began gliding gently after Hadrian’s in a graceful waltz. Well, Madam Rosita wasn’t called a genius for nothing, she supposed. She felt everyone else on the marble tiled dance floor stop and watch them as they glided to its center. She saw Will and Mary Ann standing close together at the edge, mid step.
It felt like time had frozen. Darcey smiled, not at Hadrian, who was looking at anything but her, but at the kings and queens, counts and lords that surrounded them. They spun in circles alone. It seemed that hours had passed before their company regained their heads and began dancing around them again.
They shared another two dances before Hadrian’s light hands left her waist and led her back to their parents, who were talking quietly to one another. On their approach, the talking ceased.
“So Princess, how was our son’s dancing? He quite neglects his lessons,” King Julian snorted, a fresh bottle of wine in his hand. Hadrian rolled his eyes. His disgust of his father’s behavior was evident in every motion he made. He even rolled a hand over his untidy hair, in some effort to distant it from his father, showing off his previously hidden headband. The royal golden circlet he wore crossed over his forehead and encircled his head. It bore his name, Prince Hadrian Romero Julian Sanchez, and his animal, a stag.
“Prince Sanchez dances extremely well,” Darcey said. She avoided his eyes, which were staring up at the golden band that was almost hidden under her tiara and hair. Darcey’s mother looked up at her father, smiling.
“You may as well call him Hadrian,” his father said roughly. “You’ll be spending considerable time together, you know –”
“As you are both of royal blood and your parents and we are such good friends and our island is hardly two hour’s flight away,” Hadrian’s mother cut off his father, a stern look on her face.
Darcey turned to her parents, confused. They offered no assistance, except a prod from her mother to ask Hadrian if he would enjoy a tour of the maze-like palace gardens. He accepted with a slight tip of his head, and began walking away from them. It was not until they were out of the ballroom that Darcey spoke.
“Look, I have no idea what’s going on,