Sequel: The Game ›
Status: complete, but revisions are being made
The Pauper Princess
Chapter Forty-Three
The entry hall is empty except for two guards by the doors when Mehta descends from our room. As she enters the hall, I am once again struck by how amazing she looks. I can tell the guards appreciate her beauty too; their gasps are unmistakable in the nearly silent room.
“You look wonderful,” I exclaim, taking her hands in my own.
“Thank you.” Her eyes shift toward the door as a light blush colors her cheeks.
“Ready?” She nods silently. She looks nervous, but happy. I send up a silent prayer to whatever deity is listening: please, let this work out.
The guards step toward the heavy doors and slowly pull them open. Before we even glimpse the courtyard, our senses are overwhelmed. The air is thick with the scent of roses. The sounds of people talking, laughing, and yelling was a wave of noise. A hot breeze washes over us, quickly overtaking the cool air of the palace. It is bright outside, much brighter than the dim passages inside. After a moment, our eyes adjust and we see the courtyard.
It looks nothing like this morning. The flowers and decorations are there, but the tranquility and peace is lost. An undulating crowd of lords, ladies, nobles, and every other manner of dignified guests covers every available inch of the courtyard. The midday sun strikes every piece of metal- be it jewelry, armor, or any other metal- reflecting itself and sending rays of light in every direction; the silver arch is as brilliantly blinding as when we arrived the previous day.
Mehta gives my hand a squeeze, then releases it and starts down the steps. As she reaches the third step, I too begin to descend into the chaos that is the courtyard. Dignitaries in every imaginable color of clothing frame the white satin that forms a narrow walkway from the palace doors to the silver arch. Looking ahead, I can see Jegan and Ekohl waiting there in the glow of the arch, but on Jegan’s face is a glow of a different sort. His smile lights up his face from the inside out as he looks at Mehta. I cannot help but smile myself knowing that both he and Mehta are so happy.
Beyond the prince, there is another throng of people, just as happy as he. The occupants of the town, and many common folk who have traveled from around the country, are gathered without the courtyard to view their prince’s nuptials. This was the very purpose of having the wedding ceremony take place at the silver archway, so everyone who wanted to would be able to witness this monumental event.
I followed closely behind Mehta, watching everyone react to her. Many of the dignitaries actually bowed to her, though a few still seemed suspicious. Everyone, though, marveled at this princess of Kyshia. I knew what they were thinking, for it is what I thought of Jegan at first: how can one so beautiful be kin to my enemy? A Kyshian and a Lequinian joining in marriage was unthinkable, and yet here it is, right before our eyes, demanding our belief regardless of what our minds may insist.
“You look wonderful,” I exclaim, taking her hands in my own.
“Thank you.” Her eyes shift toward the door as a light blush colors her cheeks.
“Ready?” She nods silently. She looks nervous, but happy. I send up a silent prayer to whatever deity is listening: please, let this work out.
The guards step toward the heavy doors and slowly pull them open. Before we even glimpse the courtyard, our senses are overwhelmed. The air is thick with the scent of roses. The sounds of people talking, laughing, and yelling was a wave of noise. A hot breeze washes over us, quickly overtaking the cool air of the palace. It is bright outside, much brighter than the dim passages inside. After a moment, our eyes adjust and we see the courtyard.
It looks nothing like this morning. The flowers and decorations are there, but the tranquility and peace is lost. An undulating crowd of lords, ladies, nobles, and every other manner of dignified guests covers every available inch of the courtyard. The midday sun strikes every piece of metal- be it jewelry, armor, or any other metal- reflecting itself and sending rays of light in every direction; the silver arch is as brilliantly blinding as when we arrived the previous day.
Mehta gives my hand a squeeze, then releases it and starts down the steps. As she reaches the third step, I too begin to descend into the chaos that is the courtyard. Dignitaries in every imaginable color of clothing frame the white satin that forms a narrow walkway from the palace doors to the silver arch. Looking ahead, I can see Jegan and Ekohl waiting there in the glow of the arch, but on Jegan’s face is a glow of a different sort. His smile lights up his face from the inside out as he looks at Mehta. I cannot help but smile myself knowing that both he and Mehta are so happy.
Beyond the prince, there is another throng of people, just as happy as he. The occupants of the town, and many common folk who have traveled from around the country, are gathered without the courtyard to view their prince’s nuptials. This was the very purpose of having the wedding ceremony take place at the silver archway, so everyone who wanted to would be able to witness this monumental event.
I followed closely behind Mehta, watching everyone react to her. Many of the dignitaries actually bowed to her, though a few still seemed suspicious. Everyone, though, marveled at this princess of Kyshia. I knew what they were thinking, for it is what I thought of Jegan at first: how can one so beautiful be kin to my enemy? A Kyshian and a Lequinian joining in marriage was unthinkable, and yet here it is, right before our eyes, demanding our belief regardless of what our minds may insist.