“A storm is brewing.” Cyrene pushed open the textured glass windowpane to better assess the ever-darkening sky.
“It looks dreadful out there,” her sister, Elea said.
Cyrene could smell the dankness of the damp air and feel the pressing humidity against her pores. She brushed her long dark brown hair off her shoulders and stepped away from the window.
“Of course it would rain on the day of my Presenting. It hasn’t rained in a month.”
“It will hold off.”
“I hope so.” Today was her Presenting ceremony, and it would be the biggest day of her entire life. She swallowed hard, but her mouth felt as if she had gone without water for days in the middle of the Fallen Desert.
“Oh, Cyrene, you’ll do fine today.” Elea grabbed Cyrene’s hand, lacing their fingers. “Aralyn was selected as an Affiliate, and I’m sure you will be, too.”
Cyrene refocused her thoughts, channeling the self-assurance that so often came to her, and she put on a brave face for Elea. “Of course I will. I hope Rhea is feeling as confident.”
“Don’t worry about Rhea. She will be fine.” Elea retrieved a neat ribbon of pearls from the dresser and strung them around Cyrene’s neck. “There. All done.”
“Thank you, Elea,” Cyrene said. She pulled her sister into a fierce hug. “I’ll miss you when I become an Affiliate.”
“I’ll miss you, too,” Elea said, laughing. “You don’t even know if you’ll be selected into the First Class, but you practically believe you will be the next consort by nightfall.”
“I will be, right?” Cyrene asked sarcastically.
One of the most revered positions in all of Byern, the consort was personally chosen by the king and acted as his right hand in all matters of the state.
Elea snorted. “Don’t count your chickens before they have hatched.”
“Now, you sound like Mother!”
“Someone has to,” Elea said, shaking her head at Cyrene. “Come on. We can’t keep everyone waiting.” She ushered Cyrene out of the bedchamber.
Cyrene and Elea descended the spiral staircase to the large open foyer where their mother, Herlana, awaited them. Her daughters were mirror images of her, but Herlana had poise and grace that could only have been acquired through age and from serving as the previous queen’s Affiliate.
“Girls, you both look stunning. Though, I do say, Elea, I’m glad you still have another year. You need to get over that gawky awkwardness you still possess to have a chance at the First Class. Luckily, Cyrene never underwent that, or else I would have been more nervous for her,” Herlana muttered unabashedly.
Elea’s cheeks colored in embarrassment. She had grown to a surprising height in the past couple of years and was having trouble adjusting to the changes that had accompanied such a growth spurt.
“Thank you, Mother,” Cyrene said, redirecting the full weight of their mother’s attention.
“Well, you’re not out of it yet.” She eyed her daughter up and down. “Why your father ever approved of that harlot-red color on you, I have no idea. You’ll be the only one wearing something so tawdry.”
“I’ll stand out then.”
“As if you wouldn’t already at your own Presenting,” Herlana huffed.
“I think she is a vision in red,” Elea said, defending her sister.
“Thank you, Elea.”
“Yes, well…she would do better in your green,” Herlana said. “Do you remember everything required?”
Cyrene gulped back her moment of fear. “Yes, Mother. The very words I must speak have been etched into my brain since infancy.”
“You’ll need to watch that mouth of yours. The King doesn’t take kindly to insolent subjects. Now, where is that husband of mine?”
“I’m right here, Herlana,” Hamidon called. Entering the foyer, he thumbed through a small stack of letters in his hand.
He was a bulky man of medium height with a stern, self-important air about him. Despite his aristocratic appearance, he dearly loved his four children and doted on them even when his wife would scold him about it.
“Good morning, my beautiful children.” Hamidon kissed Elea and then Cyrene. “The Royal Guard have arrived,” he said, turning to his wife. “Are the Gramms here yet?”
“Yes. They’ve arrived just now,” Herlana said. She gestured out the door where a pair of carriages pulled into the circle drive.
“Perfect,” he said, wearing a pompous smile. “Shall we depart?”
Cyrene’s mother and father paraded out of their house, and as she was about to follow them, Elea threw her arms around her older sister.
“Who is going to tend the garden?” Elea croaked.
“What?” Cyrene asked. She attempted to pry herself out of Elea’s grip.
“I’m certain to kill everything without you here.”
“Just remember to water, and the garden will be fine.” She couldn’t help her disbelieving giggle. “Really, Elea, you’re only going to miss me because of the garden?”
Elea looked back at her sister and shook her head.
“Ladies,” Herlana snapped as they stalled in the foyer.
The girls jumped at their mother’s voice and hurried out of the house. Royal Guard ushered them toward three magnificent horse-drawn carriages attached to black stallions. Her family sat in one with a pattern of interchanging blue and silver diamonds, the colors of Cyrene’s family house. The Gramms’ two carriages were striped in orange, brown, and gold.
Rhea was demurely seated in the Gramms’ second carriage. She waved at Cyrene as she approached.
Cyrene and Rhea had been born on the same day, and thus, they were a rare exception for a First Class Presenting.
Members of the First Class would have their children individually presented on their seventeenth birthday. Every member of the Second and Third Classes who had a child turning seventeen in that year would celebrate their Presenting on the same day as the Eos holiday. In honor of Byern’s emancipation, an enormous party would be thrown in the capital city each year, and all would be invited to attend the festivities.
Cyrene clambered into the carriage seat beside Rhea. “Rhea, can you believe it’s finally here?” She reached out and grasped Rhea’s hand.
“No.” The wavy wisps of Rhea’s dark red hair brushed against her back as she shook her head. Her forest-green gown was simple and light with flowing long sleeves and lace edging. It really brought out the green in her eyes.
“Me either,” Cyrene whispered. Her gaze shifted out to their surroundings.
The carriage pulled them forward through the inner city. Towering stone mansions lined the streets as they navigated the First Class quarters and headed for the immense Nit Decus castle carved into the side of the Taken Mountains.
Second and Third Class families lived nearest their occupational crafts. Seconds were prone to martial involvement as well as careers related to and assisting with guard services. Thirds were a mix of craftsmen, merchants, and farmers who performed essential functions to support the kingdom. Both Seconds and Thirds lived along the second tier of the city walls, farther down the rocky foothills of the capital city. Additionally, Seconds assisted with border protection, and many Thirds traversed the land for mercantile purposes or lived in remote villages, assisting in the daily functions of life.
The roads through the inner city were cobbled, and the two girls jostled lightly as they rolled higher and higher toward the castle looming on the horizon. It was a nearly impenetrable fortress forged from gray-and-black limestone carved out of the mountain. More than half of the colossal structure was hidden within the heart of the Taken Mountains. What remained visible was a glorious edifice with high peaked towers, arching railed bridges, and intricate stone masonry that had withstood thousands of years of wear.
The sight of the sky-high towers had been a fixture throughout Cyrene’s entire life, yet the grandiose structure always managed to elicit gasps of awe from her. As they approached, the girls gazed up at the impossibly tall barred doors.
“Do you think we’ll make the First Class?” Rhea whispered.
Cyrene looked at Rhea whose ever-present pallid complexion had only turned more ashen with fear. The touch of rouge on her cheeks couldn’t hide her waxen appearance. In the faint carriage light, her hands visibly trembled, a problem she’d had since childhood.
“How could we not?” Cyrene asked with a false sense of confidence.
“What if we don’t?”
“Don’t even think about it, Rhea. We’ve been together this long…”
She couldn’t imagine life without Rhea. Cyrene knew that the First Class children were rarely placed into a lower Class, but it had happened. Only last year, a girl from Cyrene’s own neighborhood had been selected into the Third Class.
Cyrene shuddered at the thought. She had worked and studied too hard to spend the rest of her life reaching for a place where she already belonged.
The three carriages swiftly passed through the gates, entering the lush garden paradise. As far as the eye could see, the royal grounds were covered with flourishing trees, brightly colored flowers, acres of fresh green grass, and even a slowly trickling creek with a stone bridge. Birds chirped overhead as the carriages rattled forward through the sprawling garden. In such a natural habitat, the drone of city life was all but obscured.
A footman descended the castle stairs and opened the carriage door. Cyrene dropped Rhea’s hand and exited first. She regally tilted her head up as she placed her expensive Biencan gold slippers onto royal land. The corners of her lips turned up, and years of etiquette training took over.
A gentleman directed her inside, and Rhea followed behind on the arm of another escort. Their families had already entered the castle and were being ushered into the Grand Hall.
Allowing her escort to lead her away from Rhea, Cyrene silently wished she had told her friend good luck. Each Affiliate was given his or her own Presenting chamber, so Cyrene wouldn’t see Rhea until this was all over.
Cyrene’s escort walked her through several winding hallways to a broad stone door. With anticipation, her heart thudded wildly in her chest. This was the entrance to her Presenting chamber.
Richly colored curtains and tapestries hung on the walls. The cost of the thick Aurumian carpet could provide a year’s worth of meals from the Laelish Market. An ornate silver pitcher and several crystal glasses sat atop an artfully constructed mahogany table against the back wall.
Cyrene poured herself a glass of water and brought the cup to her lips.
The room reminded her about the ancient history of the reign of the Doma court under the dreaded Domina Serafina. Nearly two thousand years ago, Byern had been ruled by an aristocracy that took everything for themselves, laid waste to the land, and starved the populace they deemed to be lesser. Then Viktor Dremylon had risen up against the court, seized Byern for the people, and freed the realm from oppressive rule. All the Doma’s horrible practices had been reversed, and the prosperity of the past two millennia had validated the Dremylon victory. Now, only rare artifacts, history lessons, and folktales were left of that time period.
A rustling of the carpet drew her out of her thoughts, and she turned quickly.
Shrieking in surprise, she nearly dropped the glass. She rushed across the room and threw her arms around her older sister. “Aralyn!”
Aralyn held her tightly.
“It’s so good to see you,” Cyrene gasped out.
“I’ve missed you.” Aralyn examined Cyrene at arm’s length. “Why, you are positively gorgeous! And in red! Did Father approve this color?”
“Of course.”
“It’s not a court color.”
Cyrene ignored her sister’s slight. “Forget about the color, Aralyn. I haven’t seen you in a year. What is it like in Kell as an Affiliate Ambassador? Tell me everything!”
“I didn’t come to discuss my travels with you. I came to make sure you were prepared. I have your Presenting letter.”
Aralyn extracted a letter from the sash on her gown. Cyrene reverently took the letter in her hand.
“You don’t have much time before they call. I came to be your Advisor.” A small smile played on her features. “I couldn’t miss my little sister’s Presenting.”
Questions bubbled inside of Cyrene, but she held her tongue.
“What you read inside that envelope may not be spoken of to anyone, save other citizens in kind as well as King Edric, Queen Kaliana, and Consort Daufina, but know that they might not hold any answers, or they might even lead you astray. Do you understand?”
No. How could I possibly understand until I read the letter? She prayed to the Creator that she’d become an Affiliate, so she could ask Aralyn all these pressing questions.
“Cyrene, do you understand?” Aralyn repeated more sternly.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Very well. After you read your letter, proceed to the far door, and wait for an official to open it for you. When you are given the signal for dismissal, return to this room to await your Selecting.”
“Will you be here?” Cyrene blurted out.
“No. You must await your Selecting alone.”
Cyrene glanced down at the letter within her hands and back up at Aralyn. “Do you think I’ll make First Class?”
Aralyn produced her first real smile. “I’ve no doubt you will be selected to your proper place,” she said, pulling Cyrene into a hug. “You’ll do fine. Now, I must go. I’ll see you on the other side.”
Aralyn placed a peck on each side of Cyrene’s cheeks and departed the room.
A weight formed in the pit of Cyrene’s stomach. It was judgment day. The small piece of paper in her hands felt like a heavy load.
After turning the cream envelope over, she tore the royal seal back from the parchment and pulled out the letter. The royal crest, a green Dremylon D wrapped in gold flames, was stamped on the front of the card.
She flipped the card open.
WHAT YOU SEEK LIES WHERE YOU CANNOT SEEK IT.
WHAT YOU FIND CANNOT BE FOUND.
THE THING YOU DESIRE ABOVE ALL ELSE RISKS ALL ELSE.
THE THING YOU FIGHT FOR CANNOT BE WON.
WHEN ALL SEEMS LOST, WHAT WAS LOST CAN BE FOUND.
WHEN ALL BEND, YOU CANNOT BE AS YOU WERE.
It’s gibberish! Just a series of riddles!
What am I seeking? A position as an Affiliate, next to my sister? Yet that makes no sense because that position is available to me. Is it the same thing I need to find? If it is, how can I find something that I can’t pursue and that can’t be found?
The second part was slightly more straightforward. But what do I desire? She didn’t know how becoming an Affiliate would risk everything else in her life. Plus, she wasn’t fighting anyone. Byern hadn’t been at war for two hundred years!
The next line made even less sense. She felt pretty lost right now, but she hardly thought that was what the line was referring to. Am I to lose something…everything? She reread the final line once more and tried to puzzle out the hidden meaning. Who is bending? If people were bending in some way, how would I lose myself? That seemed to be the most troubling part to her. She didn’t know how she could possibly be something she was not.
She didn’t have time to figure it out now. She had to complete her Presenting. She stuffed the card back into the envelope, placed it on the table, and walked to the far wall. As soon as she reached the entrance, the doors began to creak open.
Standing before her was the Royal Court of Byern.