Chapter 5 – First Impressions
Barely thirty minutes into dinner, and Gwen could feel her toes trying to claw their way out of her slippers.
She didn't want to be there.
The number of seconds that she had been ignored during the last twenty negotiation meetings was now equivalent to the number of questions that the noblemen in the room felt it necessary to ask her.
They wanted to know about her journey, her stay in Terrafeuw, or the grandeur of the Rramnon Palace. They asked about her likes and dislikes. They asked her if she enjoyed dancing. One person had even wanted her to describe her different tutors.
Of course Sir Aaldrick was no help.
He had apparently decided that such personal questions were perfectly acceptable to ask the first-born child of King Heralf. The man spent most of his time at dinner, ignoring her plight and adding to his already substantial girth by eating everything that was placed in front of him.
By the time the dessert was severed, Princess Gwenwyn's head was about to explode.
"How would you compare your meal to what you are accustomed to in Rramnon, Highness?" She heard King Griggory ask.
She placed her spoon delicately on the table, and turned her eyes towards the King. Her meal had been more flavorful than she had expected, and she rather enjoyed the variety of dishes. Gwen would have been happy to tell him so, but she was sure that King Griggory's question had meant something else.
He wanted to hear Terrafeuw praised for being able to offer her delicacies that couldn't be found in Rramnon. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction.
Although it would have made Aguth ill, she responded, "Your Majesty, to compare the comforts of a meal in one's own Kingdom with the enlightening sensation of a meal abroad; would be akin to comparing a water lily with a rose. Both flowers may be found in a garden, but it is their natural environment, not merely their petals, that gives them their beauty."
"And which do you prefer," he inquired apparently intrigued by her response, "the familiar rose, or the exotic water lily?"
"I actually prefer the peony." She lied easily.
Her statement pulled the attention of every nobleman in the room. She silently cursed the attention.
"Might I ask why the peony is your favorite flower, Highness?" King Griggory wondered as he sent her a smile that made her slightly nauseous.
Gwenwyn took a small sip of her wine, "The peony thrives in nearly any environment. Like many flowers, it represents prosperity," she replied hoping the wine would help her look like she was blushing, "but it is also the only flower that represents honor as well."
"Honor?" The Palaeo negotiator, that sat to her right asked.
She nodded. "There can be no greater joy, than knowing that one's prosperity was acquired honorably?"
Each of the nobles in the room nodded in agreement.
Honesty Gwen didn't much care for the peony. It was too simple of a flower and because it grew everywhere she thought of it like a weed; however, it was the meaning that she wanted. She had redirected the question and her spite, into a way of revealing information that she believed would put her in the good favor of King Griggory.
Her father had not sent her to Terrafeuw to act the way she normally acted, nor would he approve of her acting the way she wanted to. Instead she had been given a mission to gain the crown, and although her actions towards the aging king made her feel sick, she followed her orders.
She couldn't openly flirt with the Terrafein King. That type of behavior was completely against the expectations that every nobleman had of Rramnon Royalty and doing so would make the noblemen question her motives. She had to make it look like her emotions were fighting against her Rramnon sense of restraint.
Gwen often found herself at war with her feelings, but she had become too good at hiding the struggle from others.
Now she needed a way to show struggle.
After her explanation of the peonies the dinner soon came to an end. She left the dinning hall with her head held high and her posture perfectly straight.
She scanned the guards as they paired off with their assigned noblemen and escorted them off for after dinner brandy, or a casual game of cards. Princess Gwenwyn wouldn't be invited to either.
Suddenly, a pair of sky blue eyes found hers and for the briefest of moments she let them hold her attention.
"Princess Gwenwyn?" She heard King Griggory ask from behind her.
She allowed her eyes to quickly finish their scan for Guard Bingham. She made a small mental note of his position before she turned her attention towards the Terrafein King.
"Your Majesty." She responded with the smallest curtsy.
"I would like to invite you to a private lunch tomorrow." He stated easily. "I find myself fascinated with the structure of society in Rramnon, and I was hoping that you might assist in expanding my knowledge on the subject."
She took a slow breath to calm her nerves as well as give the appearance of contemplation. "I accept your invitation, your Majesty." She agreed tentatively.
It was an emotion that she didn't have to fake.
King Griggory smiled warmly at her response, bowed, and left her to join the other men in their after dinner past times.
Again, she felt her feet complain at the confinement of her slippers.
Fortunately Guard Bingham walked to her side to ask her if she wished to retire to her chamber. If he hadn't appeared at that moment, Gwen might have jeopardized everything by running off then and there.
She chided herself for thinking such a thing.
It was the lying, she decided.
The lying was making her very skin itch. It made her greedy for the cool breeze of the night air, and that greed made her reckless.
She allowed Guard Bingham to escort her back to the olive room, where he bid her goodnight and promised to keep watch so that she might sleep soundly.
Gwenwyn then made herself numb and emotionless, as Mryah removed the pins from her hair and assisted her into her nightgown. Her lady-in-waiting promptly helped her into bed and then left for her own small chamber.
Step.
Step.
Step.
Step.
She lay in bed and tried to let the sound of her guard's pacing feet drift her off to sleep, but restlessness consumed her.
Gwen soon threw the covers off of her and walked slowly to her wardrobe. Her hand stilled before it touched the handle and her eyes shot back towards the door.
'Not tonight.' She reminded herself. She couldn't risk being seen.
Her hand fell back to her side and she walked back to the large bed, and then back again to the wardrobe. Gwen paced for at least an hour, her footsteps kept time with her watchful Guard Bingham.
Step.
Step.
Step.
Step.
Then precisely at midnight Gwen heard the familiar sounds of the switch for the guards on night watch.
They rotated which floor of the Terrain Palace they watched nightly. Tonight the second shift would watch her floor. If Guard Bingham was as diligent the next night as he had been that night, then Gwen would only be able to sneak out every other night during the second patrol.
"Right on time." She heard Guard Bingham say quietly as the sound of footsteps grew closer.
"I'll take over Bingham." The patrolling guard responded evenly. "Go get some super."
As small laugh sounded from the other side of her door, "Have fun on night watch." Bingham's voice replied before the sound of his footsteps finally faded away.
Each guard on night watch was thankfully predictable. The person on the other side of her door would spend the next seven hours pacing up and down the entire corridor.
All Gwen needed was one of those hours.
She walked back towards her dresser and pulled out the dress that she had hidden in the very back corner.
It was a dark green wool dress that had once belonged to a girl that folded linens in the Rramnon Palace. Gwen's conscious had forced her to leave the girl a whole silver coin for the dress even if it was only worth five coppers.
Getting the wool dress to Terrafeuw had been a challenge, but she was glad that she went through the trouble of hiding it underneath her petticoats for nearly two weeks.
She then grabbed her plain brown cloak and made sure to secure it so that her hair wouldn't fly out like it had the night before.
Gwen didn't bother with grabbing shoes as she crept towards the door and listened for the familiar sound of boots on tiled floor. She needed the silence of bare feet.
She waited until she heard the watchman's footsteps recede completely before she carefully opened the door and snuck out of the palace.
~~~ Change Character Focus
Jenkins leaned easily against a tree and tried to relax the tension in his shoulders.
Sir Aaldrick was exactly as Carver from Eight had described him. He was a round man that loved to hear his own voice. He had spent three hours after dinner playing cards with other negotiators, and loudly arguing about whatever topic happened to come to mind.
He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.
'Three more weeks.' He reminded himself then the negotiators would leave.
Jenkins turned his head and looked up and down the trail yet again feeling like an idiot. It was about a half hour into the second shift and still nothing had happened.
During all three times that Russell had glimpsed the mysterious runner, she had always been on, or heading towards the horse trails. He decided that if she actually existed, then she would most likely return to the trails again.
So, that was where he waited.
He decided to hide behind the trees near the overhang. It was a small open area in the middle of the main horse trail that looked out at both the sea and the Terrain Palace.
He hoped that she would head that way to look out at the night sky, but he mainly hid there because the trees were thick enough to hide behind.
Exhaustion pulled at his eyelids, and he allowed himself to relax further against the tree.
Another ten minutes of silence passed, before the distant sound of a snapping twig captured his full attention. He strained his ears, and sure enough he heard it.
Someone was running towards him.
Jenkins knew that it couldn't be one of the guards. He was off duty and hadn't told anyone, not even Russell, where he had headed.
The sound could mean several things. It would be a animal. It could be someone with nefarious intentions sneeking into grounds, most likely to be caut by Nine or Seven in the next few minutes. Or?
He smiled and forced himself further into the shadows.
Sooner than he expected, a figure entered the clearing and promptly stopped right in front of him.
Jenkins could hardly believe it.
Russell had been right. The figure was small and most defiantly female, but the shadows from the trees and her hooded cloak didn't allow him to make out much more than that.
She panted heavily and walked slowly towards the overhang.
As she walked away Jenkins noticed her lack of footwear.
Why?
He wanted to say something, but he kept his mouth tightly shut and watched as she lowered her hood and raked her hands through her long blonde hair. She released a small sound of satisfaction as her fingers massaged her scalp.
The sound tugged at something inside Jenkin. It told him there was no way she was a phantom.
Suddenly her head snapped up and she hurriedly pulled the hood back over her face. She moved slowly and deliberately towards the trees and then slid effortlessly into the shadows.
He could hear the brush move as she slowly turned towards him. Jenkins strained his eyes but he could barely make out the shape of her body let alone her face.
"Who are you?" She called out, her voice filled with frustration and spite.
"A guard." He responded, wondering how she had sensed him.
An uneasy silence crept by before she finally demanded. "Come out of the shadows, so that I can see you."
"Only if you come out as well." He countered.
There was a fire in her voice but also the hint of an accent that he couldn't place. It enticed him to know more about her, to want to see her.
She didn't give him the satisfaction.
"What do you want?" She asked after a moment of deliberation.
"To catch a ghost." He responded, knowing full well that she was very much alive.
A small chuckle came from her direction. "You think you can catch me?" She challenged.
He perked up at the possibility of chasing her.
"Who says that I'm a ghost?" She asked before he could respond to her first question.
"Well aren't you?" He questioned jokingly.
"Who would I be the ghost of?"
Jenkins chucked at her question. "The other guards believe that you're the ghost of Queen Rebekah." He answered.
"But you don't." She realized.
"No," He affirmed, "I don't."
"Then who am I?"
The question startled him. "I'm not sure."
"So, I could be Queen Rebekah?" She countered.
"But you're not."
Another chuckle came from her direction, and he was fascinated with how lighthearted it sounded.
"What is your name?" She eventually asked.
"I will not tell you that." He answered spitefully. If she wouldn't give him her name, then he wouldn't give her his.
"Then what am I to call you?" She wondered.
"Choose something." He offered.
It became quiet, and he could hear her feet shuffling back and forth. She was anxious about something he realized, but what.
"You first." She decided.
"You want me to give you a name?" He wondered, trying to clarify her statement.
"Yes."
He pondered the dilemma. This woman was a free spirit. She challenged him, and confused him all at the same time. And yet she was sensitive enough to realize that he had been watching her.
"Moria." He decided.
"Marcus." She answered back.
"Really?" He wondered distastefully. "May I ask why?"
"I like the name." She shot back defensively, skirting around his question. "What does Moria mean?"
Her question peaked his interest. If she didn't know what Moria meant then she wasn't Terrafein. That explained her slight accent, but where had he heard it before?
"Moria is the Sea's mistress." He answered cryptically. "The lack of her presence can drive any sailor insane. So, we thank the Sky for her presence even as she slips through our fingers."
Jenkins waited as she considered what he had just said. He was surprised when she figured it out quickly.
"She's the wind." The voice answered happily.
He nodded, but realized that she couldn't see him.
A comfortable silence enveloped them, but it was soon broken when she released a discouraged groan and began to step further into the shadows.
"You're leaving?" He inquired, surprised at the amount of disappointment in his voice.
"I must return." She answered solemnly.
"Will you come here again?" A strange sense of desperation forced him to ask.
Why was he so anxious to speak with her again? He didn't know what she looked like, he didn't know who she was, and yet...there was something about the woman that tempted him to want more.
"Same time," she answered, "in two days." Her voice hesitated, as if her response went against her own intuition. "Goodbye Marcus."
Jenkins heard her take off down the horse trail, and instinctively he took off after her.
Again Russell was right.
She was fast.
As the path straightened out he saw how effortlessly she managed to pull away from him. Her bare feet kicked up dirt as her cloak waved behind her like a great flag.
Jenkins pushed himself faster, but he could only manage to hold the gap between them.
He couldn't shorten it.
It didn't make any sense to him. How could someone of her statur keep such a pace?
Eventually the straight dirt path returned to its twists and turns and Jenkins instantly understood why she had been barefoot. His boots slid as he rounded the turn at full speed. Jenkins skidded off of the path and landed face first in the grass. He quickly got to his feet, but he could no longer see her in the distance.
He chuckled at his shortsightedness and decided to head back towards the barracks.
It was nearly half past two by the time he undressed and let his head fall on his pillow. As he closed his eyes his conversation with Moria replayed in his head.
He tried to imagine what she looked like.
He saw her blonde hair shinning in the moonlight as she combed her slim fingers through the long waves. She was a small woman, but she was also fiery and clever. She managed to pay attention to her surroundings even when she believed that she was alone.
What did it all mean?
'Moria.' He wondered as he drifted off to sleep. 'Who are you?'