Equilibrium

Chapter Six

I am forced to sit with my mother the entire duration of the ride back. It takes another two days to get home, where our army general has been anxiously waiting for us. We do not attack Chautin nor do they attack us. My mother chooses to spend her days in her room, but I have too much work to do. Daniel was supposed to receive the crown in a few days, but now I must make the preparations. Four days pass in an uneasy peace. The soldiers don’t dare to relax, but I feel their gazes watching me anytime I venture outside of closed doors. They must know that I have something up my sleeve, that some sort of arrangement has been made, but they do not ask. They do nothing more than wonder...and hope. On the fifth day I go to the market in search of a dress to wear to the masquerade ball, as the message I received yesterday said. The note was folded and sitting atop my desk when I returned from dinner the night before. I should have been concerned that he could reach me so easily, but all I feel is relief. If for some reason I cannot make an appearance, he must know.

On the sixth day, near evening, I don my disguise and leave a message on my bed, and no one notices me leave because they do not know it is me. I wear a robe over the dress when I mount one of the horses in the stables and set out. I want to arrive looking as if I have ridden for mere minutes, not hours. I am nervous, which makes my horse nervous, so I have to force myself to relax. The border of Chautin and Genika is two hours from the palace by horseback, going as fast as I choose too. The wind whips at my hair but I do nothing to contain it. I let the air bring a rosy tint to my cheeks and I try not to breathe. The sun is setting when I cross into enemy lands and I take the route that the message told me to, hoping that I am not being foolish in doing so. Blind faith might not be my mother's way of doing things, but it is starting to look like mine. An ambush would be too easy for the Chautin. I know that I ought to be more careful and I should have at least brought something to defend myself, but it is too late to turn back. I am starting to grow weary and my legs are numb.

I catch the first sight of a hidden armed guard minutes after passing the border. I give no indication that I have spotted them, but I try to keep tabs on them in my periphery. They are on foot so I slow my horse to make following me easier. They have not attacked yet and I don’t think they will.

No one does. Instead, I make it all the way to the Chautin palace, where I am stopped and asked for identification and the stable boy takes my horse. I show the signet ring and the guards let me pass without another word. I am late, but it will not matter. The party goes on until midnight. A guard leads me through elaborate corridors to a marble staircase that leads directly to the ballroom. The entire palace is exquisite, and I could easily get lost in the many winding corridors and twists and turns that loom up from seemingly nowhere. Bright, colorful paintings cover the walls and tapestries hang on either side of each window I pass. They tell a never ending story, and I could walk alongside the unspoken words and listen for ages. Dragons, fairies, waterfalls and mountains and the like. I want to stop and stare. I have never seen anything so beautiful in my entire life.

I hear faint music as I descend the winding staircase one of the guards points me towards and the party comes into view. Nearly everyone else is wearing a primary color, so I stand out like a sore thumb. Some party guests watch me with interest, while others start to gossip from behind their fans. I know this. This makes me relax just a little bit. I know how to handle a court. I make it to the bottom without falling and I observe the room with awe while I catch my breath for just one second, because the stairs are not always fun to tackle in a heavy gown. The chandelier is brightly lit with very tall candles that have hardly begun to melt. Bright gold dishes are laid out on a long, never-ending table of food, and I want that to be my first destination more than anything but I refrain. There are paper lanterns hung across the dance floor and one entire wall is actually a balcony, and I can see a glimpse of the skyline through the mass of people. Maybe that would be a better choice than gorging myself on cheese and bread.

And there is no way I will be touching wine tonight.

"And who might you be?" A well-built man approaches me with a slender woman on his arm. The crowd parts for them. Both look vaguely familiar. The man has peppered hair and kind eyes, which throw me off guard a little bit. His beard is trimmed and I cannot guess his age. The woman has tired eyes, but she seems kind, too. I feel like she may be softspoken. She meets my gaze shyly and the two of them together are...cute. I actually think I like them, at first glance. It is unnerving, because these same people are killing my people.

And my people are killing them.

"Father, isn't the point of a masquerade mystery?" A familiar voice inquires a moment before things get awkward and I turn to face Nehemiah. He is grinning broadly, surprise written clearly in his features for everyone else to see, but I know he has choreographed this. I am starting to realize that he is excellent at making things up on the spot. "I did not think that you would come." He tells me, and his parents make themselves scarce once they realize that Nehemiah is familiar with me.

"Do they know?" I ask, worriedly, watching his parents over my shoulder, and he offers me a tentative smile.

"If they didn't then, they do now. They respect my decision." He tells me, and I don't say a word. This is so strange to me. The people here are outgoing and clearly emotional. They do not find the need to hide as much as Genicians do, and yet they are better at it. I am overwhelmed and curious and very deeply afraid.

"What happens now?" I ask, and Nehemiah gestures to the stage.

"At the stroke of midnight, I am to announce who will be my bride. I will announce her as you. We can worry about your country later, and we will tell them my lie then. Don’t worry about the details." He dismisses the thought without a worry and I find myself jealous of his nonchalance. We have almost an hour. The sunset is late these days. Summer is fading into fall.

"Would you care to dance?" Nehemiah offers suddenly, and I realize that we are standing in a part of the dance floor, not moving, while everyone else twirls past us.

"Of course." I say, while in my mind I am declining profusely. No, I do not want to dance. I want to go home, crawl under my blankets, and forget about the world. Our world. My brother is dead. He was all that I cared about aside from my father. I already lost my mom. A person can only let you down so many times before you stop believing in them.

"I did not think that you were going to show up." Nehemiah admits, as if this is any semblance to a normal conversation, and it pulls me out of my misery.

"How so?" I inquire, without thinking, and he shrugs. In front of everyone. No one stops to stare, to gossip. Anything. They don’t even care.

"Because of recent events. I wouldn't blame you." His voice lowers considerably and I tense as I take his hand and one of his falls lightly to my waist. I am not comfortable, but I hide it...I hope. He is touching me. I should be pulling away from him, not leaning in.

"Daniel would." I leave it at that, and we dance. For a long time, neither of us speak. Nehemiah stops us after a few dances, just as my knees begin to wear out. He guides me to the balcony and I let him, very self-conscious about the way his hand lingers near my waist.

“Tell me about your people,” he asks, once we are out of hearing range of the party. I lean against the railing and watch the sky as it turns a brilliant shade of orange.

“We are quieter. More...conservative, I think. At least, people are towards me.” I turn, letting the setting sun accent the scar on my jaw. “There is no touching. No shrugging. No weakness. We cannot afford it.”

“It sounds...lonely.” Nehemiah won’t look at me now.

Nehemiah's sister whisks me away later on, after a few more dances--fifteen minutes before he makes his announcement. As much as I hate to admit it, the dancing did him good. I was able to relax around him. I grew used to his touch. Now I am in a room just off of the party room. I can still hear the music. It masks our conversation, however small it may be. The room I am in has walls painted a soft yellow, and there is a painting of bright flowers hanging adjacent to the door. There is a vanity below the painting, and that is where Leighla and I are, as she attempts to make me seem more...colorful. Not so pale. Not as afraid.

“You have to sell it. If the people don’t buy it, then you are putting yourself at an immense risk. I know that Genicians are not fond of showing emotions, but you have to show something. They need to feel like they are talking to a person--not a wall.” Leighla warns, adjusting my mask. In this lighting, my scar is prominent and her touch hesitates at it, the ugly marred skin. I turn away from her fingers and I know she is about to ask me about it. I feel my throat constrict.

Nehemiah enters, saving us both from an awkward silence, and I shake myself from the cold that tries to embrace me. I must focus. It helps that he is so warm. He radiates it and it seeps into my bones. I relax.

"Leighla, I would like a word with Emmaline, alone please." He speaks warmly to her and the ache starts up in my chest again. I had that once. Leighla understands him. She leaves, closing the door behind her.

"Emmaline...I wanted to thank you. You didn't have to agree to this, and I don't know if you had plans for your life, but if you did...surely this changes them. I just...I want you to know that I will do everything in my power to keep you safe." His words make me feel only a little bit better, although I am sure he is a man of his word. He leaves. Leighla does not return. I close my eyes and I wait for my signal, which comes a moment later when the door opens yet again. I feel so tired, but I force my eyes to open and I stand, forcing my lips to turn upwards. Nehemiah gives me an encouraging look from across the ballroom.

There are a thousand eyes on me right now, as I exit the door, but I don’t shake. I don’t cringe. I walk with elegance, straight to Nehemiah and his outstretched arm. I tuck myself inside of it. If Nehemiah is surprised, his mask hides it.

“I have before you the woman I chose to be my bride. Many of you will not understand my choice, so I ask that you hear me out before you pass your judgement.” Nehemiah's words silence the crowd. They are looking at me more cautiously now. The guards are all obvious to my trained eye, hidden in the crowd, and I wish that there were more. Nehemiah slowly unties my mask and I press myself closer to him, trying to appear smaller. There are a few murmurs of shock as it registers to the few that know what I look like. “This is Emma. A couple of weeks ago, I went to battle and I was presumed dead. There was a rumor going on about an angel in the battlefield. I was lucky enough to meet her face-to-face. She had no idea who I was, but she did not stop to ask, either. She housed me in her home. I ate among her people...and they are not bad. Does anyone remember why we are at war?"

His question is met by silence.

"I fell for someone on the other side of the border. I am lucky that she has agreed to be my wife, despite the accident those weeks ago when her brother was killed." I cannot tell if he is lying. It confuses me. I can almost always tell when people are lying, but these people are entirely strange to me.

“How many of us have been killed?” A man protests and the crowd parts to give Nehemiah a good look at him.

“Enoch, I know that it isn’t easy, but they have lost people too. What is the world coming to when not even pregnant women are safe--from us?” Nehemiah replies evenly and the man contemplates this, then steps back into the crowd. I am somewhat stunned. No one in Genika would have done that. I don't know whether to find the man absurd or brave.

“Does this mean that Genician soldiers will be coming here?” A woman, standing with the pose of a soldier (a pose I will never forget), calls out next. Her tone radiates confidence, and also hostility towards me.

“Alice, we will also be going there for compensation. Just know that whoever attacks either side will be tried for treason, and will be the root cause of a war against all nations.” Nehemiah's tone is firm, and the woman stands there for a moment longer, clearly making a statement before she begins to walk out of the room.

“This isn’t going to be easy.” Nehemiah murmurs to me, glancing down at where I stand staring up at him. “I want you to know that...I won’t force you into--into doing anything.” He turns before I can react and I am glad--it hides the blush creeping across my high cheekbones. Very little can unsettle me, and this does it.

We greet his people and Nehemiah intercepts anyone who tries to touch me smoothly, telling them that touch is very reserved in my country. It is a blatant lie, but I don’t dare call him out on it. I use his excuse as a shield and I wrap it around myself.

“What is your necklace made of?” A man asks me and I reach up to touch the bird’s fluttering wings.

“Silver. It is common in Genika. The bird represents freedom.” I smile lightly at the thought, reminding myself that I cannot seem too withdrawn right now.

“It is beautiful.” He smiles in an encouraging way and I wonder briefly if he is a guard before chastising myself. Not everyone here is evil, although the brown eyes remind me that I am a long way from home, and a very long way from safety.

Not that I am safe at home, either.