One Choice (6 page)

****

Sunday she woke, and prepared to spend the day much as she had on Saturday. She dressed in her own clothes again. May as well accent her differences. She had never wanted red hair, green eyes, and pale skin. Since she had been little, she'd wanted to look like her Middle-Eastern mother, instead of her Irish father. Her differences glared at her every time she peered in the mirror or into the faces of the other women. Even Anaya looked like them because, of course, she was one of them.

Day 2—

Bored. That describes me right now. Yesterday I watched people, which is good for a while, but gets tiring, since I watched the same women over and over, and I did it for most of the day. They're not that interesting. These women busy themselves watching TV, playing games, eating, and getting to know one another — laughing and telling stories. None seek me out. Nor do I approach them.

On the bright side, I managed to finish reading the book I've been trying to get to for months.

On the dark side, I finished the book. There's nothing for me to do today, except for the hour we are required to attend services at the palace chapel.

I can't go to my church or see my friends.

No lunch out.

No chores.

No walking.

How am I supposed to stay fit here? My waistline is going to increase by inches by the time these six months are finished if I don't get some walking done.

Except for yesterday's eggs, the food has been good.

Stormy seems to like it here. Lots of people pay attention to him since he's the only pet I've seen. I've noticed the servants give him a treat or two from the kitchen. He is taking full advantage of that.

She'd started writing and doodling after her parents died. Prayer took too much effort and had proved useless. Writing down her feelings and the events of her life as they happened helped her to overcome her grief and the isolation from family. She kept writing because it helped keep the loneliness away. Her journal had become her lifeline to sanity.

She closed the cover on her complaints and gazed around the room. A group of buffet tables covered in lime green linens filled the space closest to the kitchen. The spread of food included
ekmek
— a Turkish sourdough, a flaky cheese-filled pastry, butter, jam, olives, tomatoes, cheese, yogurt, cold bologna, boiled eggs — both hard and soft, juice, tea, and coffee. Her mouth salivated as she glanced over the options. Her mom had put out a feast similar to this every Saturday in the winter.

As she picked up a plate to prepare her meal, a large woman pushed her out of the way. The dish crashed to the floor, and Cahri landed beside it a split second later. She didn't think anything except the plate was broken. Bruises would be evident tomorrow though.

A number of servants descended on the scene to clean up the shards of glass and check on her. Their kindness kept her temper in check. One of the men helped her up and handed her a clean plate. She fixed her plate and retreated to an uninhabited table in the corner where she picked at her food. Her appetite had fled as fast as she had hit the floor.

With the breakfast fiasco finished, she resumed her examination of
the natives,
as she referred to the other women. She soon discovered most of the tall and curvaceous women knew their own beauty and its effect. Rude and demanding, they expected those around them to jump at their every command. Most of the less attractive women obliged the former and almost always did as asked. With a few exceptions.

“Bring me coffee,” demanded Neylan, the large woman who had pushed Cahri at breakfast. The servants scurried to fulfill her commands. Moments later her voice could be heard again. “Not hot coffee. It's hot enough in here to fry an egg as it is. Never mind, bring me
ayran
instead. It will refresh me.”

“I'm sorry, but we do not have any made, nor the ingredients to do so.” The servant girl backed away as Neylan's face changed to an unattractive mottled red.

“What do you have then?”

“We have kefir.”

“Kefir? This is abominable. I thought we were supposed to receive the best care, and all our needs would be met. I need something cool to drink. Bring me something, now!”

The servant clenched her hands behind her back, but her face remained stoic.

“I'll see what I can find, miss.”

A different servant girl brought back a glass filled with water. Cahri smothered a chuckle. She distanced herself from the scene, afraid that if she didn't, she would laugh out loud at the woman's theatrics.

Another exception was a young woman, a girl almost. She couldn't be more than seventeen or eighteen. Tall and slender, with few curves, her loveliness came from within. Cahri wanted to get to know her, but as yet hadn't decided when she would break her silence. Tomorrow? The next day? When this was over?

****

Monday, Cahri, again, chose not to wear the clothes laid out for her — a black set with silver embroidery — but put on a pair of blue jeans and red shirt. Today would begin what Anaya called preparation classes.

Anaya had spoken to her throughout the weekend, but never in such a way as to require more than a nod or shake of Cahri's head. The servant seemed to understand Cahri needed to deal with the situation in her own way.

Ashura, the steward, entered a few minutes after breakfast had been cleared. “Ladies, please be quiet and be seated.”

The others quieted and found a seat.

“You all know why you're here. Many years have passed since the last Bridal March, so I know many of you are curious about what will be happening in the next few months.”

Murmurings filled the room as the others agreed amongst themselves.

“The majority of your classes and all of your meals will be held in this room. Your free time will also be spent here, in the garden through those doors…” He pointed to the doors Cahri had tried to exit Saturday, “or in your rooms. In a moment I will take you on a tour of the palace and explain to you the areas which will be off-limits.”

“Off-limits?”

“What do you mean off-limits?”

“Are we prisoners?”

Several voices spoke at once.

“No, not prisoners, guests. But the royal family is still the
royal
family,
and this is their home. The limits allow them privacy. It's also for their protection, and yours.”

“This is absurd. We are candidates to be the prince's wife. We should have full access,” the rude lady whined.

Ashura stiffened but kept his voice even. “Absurd or not, it is the way it is. You will be dismissed if found in an unauthorized area.
One
of you will become wife to the prince, so all of you do not need access to the entire palace.”

He stepped to the door. “Come. We will tour a small portion of the palace and then come back for our first class session.”

Cahri found the gallery of portraits interesting. Ashura mentioned a few notable pieces of art — pottery depicting warriors, and statues of half-naked men and women — as they walked the halls. She preferred the more personal element of the family portraits in the gallery.

Despite the steward's assurance to the contrary, this home was their prison, albeit an opulent one.

The tour and class lasted until lunch, and in the afternoon the ladies were given
spa
treatments. Cahri declined to participate with the others. Ashura regarded her with dismay, but when Anaya spoke to him, he nodded his ascent and moved on. Cahri started to go to her room, when Anaya motioned for her to follow. Cahri trailed after her when the woman didn't wait for her to say yes or no, but walked off, expecting Cahri to follow.

Who was the servant here? She chuckled to herself. Her silence allowed Anaya to get her way, not that Cahri cared one way or the other. She'd never had a servant, nor did she want one now.

Cahri followed Anaya until she came to a forbidden section of the palace. She slowed, but Matthias touched her back and said, “Go.”

It was the first word he had ever directed toward her, so she obeyed, although with a great deal of trepidation. Excitement and fear warred with each other. She anticipated seeing a different section of the palace, but feared getting in trouble for being in an off-limits area. She caught up to Anaya just outside an exquisite set of carved doors. The flowers, maybe daisies or small sunflowers, followed a winding vine of leaves up and around the wood. Beautiful.

Anaya entered, and Cahri moved to follow but paused to run her fingers over the carvings. Matthias closed the door when Cahri stepped past it. Anaya told her to sit on a toile-upholstered barstool situated in the middle of the bedroom before she disappeared through another door.

Cahri sat. She couldn't keep hiding behind her silence. Was this a good time to speak?

She glanced at the huge room furnished with expensive linens and cherry Queen Anne furniture. A plush oriental rug covered a large portion of the floor.

It didn't look like a servant's quarters.

A king-sized bed stood front and center of one wall, flanked by floor-to-ceiling windows. Or were they doors? In front of one of the windows sat a small bistro-like table. A dresser and a desk graced another wall. The corner of the third and fourth walls held a seating area, including a red damask sofa and matching chair. Was that a real Tiffany lamp?

She fiddled with the creases on her jeans. She stood and took a step toward the door, then returned to the stool, sat back down, and bounced her knee. She shouldn't be here. Questions flitted through her mind, and she decided to end her silence.

“Why am I here?” Cahri asked Anaya when the other woman returned to the room.

“Ah, you have deemed me worthy to speak to again, Chosen One. I am overcome with joy.”

Cahri flinched at Anaya's tone. “No need to get nasty. It wasn't personal. I've just been overwhelmed with the changes required of me.” She sighed. “Why am I here?”

“Because your hair is different from the others, I have decided to trim, wash, and condition it in private for your comfort. The others will have theirs done in their rooms.” Anaya removed Cahri's hat and released her braid.

“Just a moment, and the water will be ready for you to bathe, and then we will wash and condition your hair.

“I have noticed you have decided not to wear the clothes provided for you, instead choosing your own.”

Cahri raised her eyebrows and shrugged. “I figured I may as well accentuate my differences.”

“That's fine, but this evening you will wear what has been provided. The prince will inspect the chosen ones and eliminate any he finds lacking. Do not be among the first to go. The most desperate and lowest of nobles will pick from these, and their lives will not be easy.”

Anaya's words of warning sent a shiver of dread down Cahri's spine. She expected to be one of the first to go. Not one man in Belikara thought her pale skin beautiful. A few had been desperate enough to be seen with her, but not more than two or three times. Others had been more interested, but they desired a more clandestine relationship. “I won't be marrying a noble. I have made other plans should I be eliminated.”

Anaya nodded. She moved around the room, grabbing brushes, hair bands, and various other styling equipment. “The prince longs for a wife who will help him and not harm him. He also seeks someone worthy to be queen when the time comes. You must know that he is discerning. He trusts God to guide him in his decisions, but he is a man and will also look on the more visible qualities of the women.”

Worthy to be queen? She would never be worthy to be queen. Elimination was imminent.

“There are certain rules you must follow. Do not look at him before he requests it. He will think less of you, though he may not eliminate you altogether — that would displease the king.” After depositing her armful of products on a table, Anaya stood in front of Cahri and gazed into her eyes. “Tonight is a test. I have given you fair warning because I think you will be good for my prince.”

How could
she
be good for the prince?

Anaya continued, “None of the others will know about tonight's test. They will just think it is an inspection to see if they are worthy to continue in the Bridal March.”

Who would they think is inspecting them if not the prince?

“The prince has not been seen in public as himself for many years. He prefers his privacy. So none will know it is he, save you. Do not give the secret away. Now let's get started. You must look your best.”

Good luck with that.

“Come, take off your things,” Anaya said.

Cahri walked to the bathroom. She hesitated by the white claw-footed tub. Heat infused her cheeks at the idea of undressing in front of someone else. Anaya left, and before she could return, Cahri stripped off her clothes and hid in the bubble-filled tub. Anaya handed Cahri a washcloth containing a quarter-sized squirt of gorgeous smelling pink bath gel. Cahri inhaled a hint of rose. She washed while Anaya readied the shampoo and conditioner. “I love the smell of this gel.”

“It is the prince's favorite.”

“You seem to know a lot about the prince.” Cahri hoped to squeeze information from Anaya with a few subtle comments. She wanted to know more about the man behind the Bridal March.

“Of course I do. I have lived here all my life.” There had to be more to it than that. This woman knew too much, and this room was extravagant.

A mistress, perhaps? Cahri didn't question her further, sensing it would accomplish nothing.

Anaya handed Cahri another washcloth with a gel which smelled like mint and resembled green toothpaste. “What is this?”

“It's for your face. Scrub, but with gentle swirls. It will make your skin glow.”

Cahri obeyed. Her face tingled.

“Whose room is this?” After rinsing her face, she touched her cheek. Silky smooth.

“Mine.”

Rich silks and brocades adorned the bathroom window and shower curtain. The counter and floors were white marble.

“Yours? Do all the servants have rooms like this?”

“No.”

Cahri sighed to herself. It seemed Anaya would not answer her questions with more than one-word comments. Maybe later, after they'd been together longer — if she wasn't eliminated tonight. She gulped at the thought.

Anaya washed Cahri's hair, massaging her scalp in the process. Cahri had always loved it when her momma washed and brushed her hair. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the sensation of someone pampering her for a change. All too soon, Anaya commanded her to rinse. When Cahri came out of the water after rinsing the shampoo out of her hair, Anaya applied conditioner.

“Why are you showing me special attention? I noticed none of the other girls have a servant or bodyguards. Why me?”

Anaya massaged in the conditioner. “I was given permission to pick one of the fifty to whom I would devote special attention for a short time. After investigating all the others, I chose you. I know my prince quite well, and I believe you will be good for him.”

After Cahri's hair was rinsed, Anaya handed her a plush white towel. Cahri stood and wrapped it around herself and then took another one for her hair.

Maybe she
was
his mistress
.

“Do you love him?” Cahri studied Anaya's delicate features.

“Yes.” Anaya whirled away, and placed the shampoo and conditioner bottles under the counter.

“Why don't you marry him? You're close to his age.” As soon as she'd spoken she wanted to draw back her words. Her curiosity was going to get her into trouble again. She dropped her gaze. “I'm sorry. It's not my business.”

Anaya swiveled back around. Cahri glanced up in time to see her knowing grin. “It's okay. I can't marry him because I am his sister.”

“His sister?” Cahri blinked. “You're the princess?” Understanding dawned. “The guards are for you.”

Appalled she'd assumed Anaya was a servant, Cahri cringed. Heat crept up her neck and into her cheeks. She had just had her hair washed by the princess.

“I am and they are, but I have chosen to be
your
servant and your mentor. It was my choice, and I will continue to be so until either my brother chooses you, you are released from the Bridal March, or my father tells me otherwise.” She started to walk away, but as she left she said, “Come, the servant has arrived who will trim your hair, then you will dress in the outfit I have chosen for you.”

The clothes Cahri had ignored this morning lay across the bed, waiting for her.

For the next two hours the servant trimmed, dried, and arranged Cahri's hair and then put her hat back in place. Afterward, another servant delivered dinner.

Cahri squirmed under Anaya's persistent gaze. “You now know I'm the princess, but you must not tell anyone else. You'll still call me Anaya, and I'll continue to be your servant. No one else is to know. Do you understand?”

“I understand.” She spoke the words, but she didn't comprehend why this woman, this
princess
, would be interested in helping her. It didn't make sense. None of it made sense — being chosen, moving from her home, being helped by the princess. It all came together in a jumbled pile of facts in her mind. God had to be behind this fiasco. She wished He'd leave her alone.

Anaya touched Cahri's arm, startling her. “It's time for you to rejoin the others. They have also been instructed to prepare for an inspection. Remember what I told you. The prince will know your heart when he looks into your eyes, but do not look up before he comes to you.”

“I'll remember. Thank you.”

“Matthias will take you back now.”

As Cahri followed Matthias back to her room, her heart raced. She inhaled as deep as her lungs would allow and tried to relax. Again and again she told herself to act normal.