The Lark's Pearl

As the evening draws to a close, King Adrian bids everyone good night and takes his leave. Most of the guests are leaving as well, but Mother and I linger a while longer. We will stay in the guest suite and leave for Vratha in the morning.

The young woman wants the prince’s attention to herself and is not alone, as she claimed. Her mother, a stout woman with a thick white collar around her neck, accompanies her. She wears her hair up in a rope-like braid, standing on the top of her head in a weird cone shape. Fashionable in her eyes, I suppose.

“How was your conversation with the prince, Ariabella?” Mother asks as we take a rest on one of the many stone benches.

“Interesting,” I reply, shrugging. “He was hospitable and really seemed to enjoy confusing me.”

“Confusing you, in what way?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. Today has been full of new experiences. Talking to the prince is just another thing I’m not used to.”

“Hmm.”

Mother pats my arm.

A moment later, the young woman and her mother leave. The prince joins us, standing some feet away.

“I swear, she never stops talking,” he says, shaking his head. “She is just not as interesting as she thinks.”

“That’s not very nice,” Mother says, shaking her head.

“But is it not the truth?”

I meet the prince’s gaze. His smile does not falter, and he doesn’t look away. His eyes shine in the glow of the candle. To my surprise, he removes his crown and throws back his head. Black hair shakes and moves out of his face. The tattoo bird in full view.

“Shall I escort you back to your suite?” the prince asks, returning the crown to his head and tucking his loose hair behind his head.

“That would be lovely,” Mother replies, pulling me to my feet as she also rises. “Ariabella will not admit to it, she is quite tired.”

“Mother,” I scold, but my yawn gives me away.

Prince Elias chuckles, “I would never admit to it either.”

He offers me an arm, and I accept without hesitation. He does the same for Mother, but she declines.

“I believe you are in the East Wing, yes?” he asks as we walk to one of the side entrances.

“I was not paying any attention,” I say, shaking my head. “I was starstruck when they showed us to the room this morning.”

The prince laughs; I am beginning to understand that he is a very joyful kind of person. And it is very difficult for me to not mirror his joy.

“Not to worry,” he says, “I can find the way. I do believe I know this place better than anyone. Even better than the servants, too. And trust me, the servants are trained to know every hiding place. It is part of palace safety protocol.”

“Does this mean there are secret passageways in the walls?”

I cannot help but ask.

“There are, but I do not think we should explore them tonight…” the prince pauses, glancing at my mother. “Is it too bold of me to ask for you to stay a little longer, tomorrow? I understand you did not intend to stay this long, but if Ariabella is curious…”

“You are the prince,” Mother says, dipping her head in a delicate bow. “You may ask of us whatever you wish.”

“Yes, but I could never command anything of anybody. Not in a casual atmosphere, at least.”

I smile as he meets my gaze. Mother’s statement from earlier lingers in my mind. But I do not want to behave based on her wishes. Rather contradictory when she told me to not worry and to be myself.

Mother bids the prince goodnight and disappears into the suite. Leaving me alone. With him.

“You are an extremely pleasant companion,” he says, smiling. “I am very glad you were brought here, despite the reasons.”

“I am honored to have met you,” I reply, gently clearing my throat as my cheeks grow warm. “This is an experience I shall not forget.”

He grins, “I think it is safe for you to call me by my first name, Elias.”

“But isn’t it improper?”

“To some, perhaps. Try it.”

“Try what?”

“Saying my name without pretenses.”

“I can’t do that-”

“You can, I give you permission.”

He smiles, waiting. When I don’t say anything, he sighs and reaches for my hand.

“I meant to return,” he says, squeezing my fingers. “I had every intention of returning and showing you all the things… Good night, Ariabella. I will see you tomorrow.”

He brings my hand to his lips, kissing my skin. So soft and gentle that I almost don’t feel it. And then he is gone.

Mother is asleep on the second bed. Peaceful. I, however, cannot close my eyes. Whether it is due to the excitement of the day, or the expectancy of returning home, I don’t know. Or perhaps I do know. I am left to ponder the prince’s words.

I meant to return.

Return. Return to where? And what could he have meant about showing me all the things? What things?

I yawn, turning over in the bed so I am facing the window. The silver moonlight barely shines, but it is bright enough to see every shadow in the room. The curtains move with the midnight breeze. Shimmering and reflecting the light of the moon.

Then I hear it. A sound I haven’t heard in days. A smile takes my face captive as I jump out of bed and hurry to the window. I search all over, but I don’t see him. My smile becomes a frown as I back away and I hug myself.

A glimmer catches my eye. Just on the sill, next to a small scroll is a pouch very similar to the one I use for my pearls at home. I approach the window sill, reaching for the little scroll and the bag in one motion. I tuck the scroll into my palm as I feel the outside of the pouch. The shape of the contents is cannot be mistaken.

I gasp, holding the pouch to my chest as I now look at the scroll. My fingers tremble as I ponder whether I should read it or not. However, I cannot tame my curiosity. I secure the pouch in my left hand while removing the band from the scroll, and unroll it.

The handwriting is unfamiliar, but the words are perfect scripted in delicate form.

The message reads: You have all the right to be confused. I was confused at first but when I first saw you, I knew you could be trusted. Wait for me at dawn. I will tell you everything.

I do not know what to make of this. I roll the message back up and open the pouch. I pour the contents into my palm, the pearl glistens. It is a deep, iridescent red and purple. It reminds me of the cranberry jam Mother makes.

“What is happening?” I whisper as I make my way back to bed.

I hardly sleep. The sun begins to shine through the curtains and I glance over at Mother. She remains asleep. I then look at the silk, white pouch on the bedside table, where I placed it only a few hours ago.

Birds are not known to write messages. Unless someone is using the Lark in place of a messenger pigeon.

I slip out of bed, reaching for the pouch. I open it, making sure the message scroll is still inside. I then walk over to the window, and I stand on the inside of the curtains. The window is not that big. The sill stops just beneath my ribs. I can lean out and not worry about falling forward.

The creaking of an opening door makes me jump. I turn around and look at the door. It remains closed. But there is a change in the room. A new presence in the air.

“Psst.”

I turn in the direction of the sound. On the other side of my temporary bed, I see a portion of the wall that looks different. It looks like it is open and the entrance is opposite the slab I see.

“Psst, Ariabella.”

The whisper draws me closer. I tiptoe around the bed and pause when I see the black curls behind the wall.

“Hidden doorway,” the prince whispers, smiling as he extends his hand to me. “I have much to say to you. Will you join me?”

“Answer me one question, first,” I whisper back, holding up the pouch. “Did you leave this on the window?”

His smiles does not falter.

“Yes, I did.”

I exhale; my legs feel like the jiggly dessert my father loves. Liquid-solid. I glance over my shoulder. Mother is still asleep. As I look back at the prince, he holds his hand out further.

“How many female guests have you charmed into exploring secret passages?” I ask, placing my hand in his; he squeezes my fingers.

“Only you,” he replies, pulling me through the doorway.