Eagles and Swans
Chapter 20: Into the Light
Ruthenia rose from her seat. This was the strangest-smelling of places: a stylist's studio near the northwest border of Candelabra Town. Shampoos and tonics mingled with smoke and the perfumes. There were mirrors everywhere, capturing all sorts of faces—the picturesque lady two seats away, the brown-haired child who’d been throwing tantrums just minutes ago.
She saw Hollia, too, behind her—beaming with a hand on the chair. And of course—lashes darkened, blemishes concealed, cheeks speckled with glitter—she saw herself. Or at least she had to believe it was, for she looked too pretty to be herself.
There was one part still unchanged: the colour of her hair. Fiery auburn—lighter than her father's. She wore it in a ponytail higher than she usually did, tied in a band of dark lace ruffles to match a dress.
“You're going to knock those nobles off their feet,” whispered Hollia, patting her arm the way she always did.
“Let’s get to the ferry station.” Ruthenia picked up her umbrella hanging from the chair, and tottered towards the door in her unfamiliar shoes.
Hollia seemed to know northwestern Candelabra by heart. She led Ruthenia along pathways and across bridges. The shops were lit above and below, shophouses holding their doors open to the sky for the evening crowd. The central ferry station of Candelabra loomed overhead, bearing the weight of a hundred.
The evening had begun to fall, bringing a blanket of stars from the far horizon. The sun set red, then twilight-purple, through a brilliant swath of sky, taking the heat with it. Shop signs creaked among smoky columns as Thread lamps glowed to life on storefronts.
“So, the event starts at six,” she said, “but Aleigh wants me there an hour early.”
Hollia nodded. “You’ll take the southbound ferry towards Bollard Town,” said Hollia as they arrived at an open balcony, checking the watch on her wrist. “The trip from here to Helika at this time takes about twenty minutes. It's four twenty-five—will that suffice?”
“Should be enough!” Ruthenia’s reply came unexpectedly loud—only then did she notice the hammering of her heart. Her hands were cold, too, and she gripped her umbrella tighter in the evening wind.
Hollia extended her arms for a gentle embrace. Her warmth melted a little of the chill away. “It’s going to be easy,” she whispered. “All you need to do is keep quiet and do exactly as everyone else does.”
“That sounds like the opposite of easy,” she laughed. Turning from the wind, she began up the staircase towards the station, hands clasped together.
*
The bustling southbound ferry cast its shadow over the tangle of shophouses below. In the cabin around Ruthenia, merchants sat with briefcases on their laps, studying account books or drafting letters. Children raced back and forth across the deck.
She sat at the deck’s edge, staring at the horizon. Her fingers were numb as she clutched her umbrella crook. Now and then she thought she caught intrigued glances from strangers, which never happened usually, and wondered if she was not the only one taken with how dressing up had transformed her.
The flutter of her heart made thinking difficult, but still she recited greetings and honorifics in her head, none of it seeming to stick.
In ten minutes, the ferry had pulled past the border of Candelabra into Helika. Orange roofs became white walls, all tinted brilliant pink by the sunset. She the houses and administrative buildings crowded in, then gave way to the brilliance of the palace lake.
The sparkling waters glittered between four stone banks, filled with reflected clouds and a million pink sparks of sunlight. From the far bank, the spires and floating towers of the palace complex rose, silhouetted in the flaming light.
She rose from her seat as the ship coasted into the station, and thanked the conductor at the cabin door.
Her boots clicked down the gangplank. Behind her, she heard the flutter of sails as the ship departed, and silence settled back over the platform with the rush of the lake against its banks.
The soaring walls of the palace peeked above the far bank of the lake. At the platform's edge, Ruthenia gazed across the watery expanse and breathed in the grassy aroma. Nothing but the lake stood between herself and the royal tower now. She opened her umbrella in her hands. “You’re not getting the better of me, palace,” she said, then flipped her umbrella over, pulling the Threads around it.
She lifted off the edge of the platform into the flaming evening light, and floated towards the vision of towers at the other end of the lake. From the roll of waves rose the rattle of carriages, then the burble of fountains on the boulevards.
The royal tower loomed above the grounds, alien in its white glory. Ten stories tall with a hundred windows, it was styled like the Sign of the Swan, with stone wings hovering on either side. In the southern face of the tower, a gleaming lobby opened like a mouth. The invitation had noted this as the entryway to the function hall.
Today the gates were open, and she could see right through to the other end of the hall, colonnades of Astran pillars standing along the length of either side. More details clarified themselves as she sank closer: a dark carpet unrolled from the foyer to the wall at the far end, on which hung a shimmering banner, almost ten feet tall, bearing the Astran coat of arms.
Drifting to a stop over the foyer, Ruthenia took a step onto the marble and drew a breath as she shut her umbrella. She strode inside, the echoes amplifying her every footstep as her soles clicked against the polished marble. Beneath the cold, she detected a faint floral perfume. She wracked her memory. Her parents' potpourri. Their garden bush. Lavender.
She paused to stare up at the dazzling crystal chandeliers flowering overhead. It made her insides feel heavy. Each one of those crystals could have bought a New Town child an education.
The pillars stood like rows of soldiers along the vast hallway, cream curtains hanging between them, veiling the glow of arched windows. Blue cushioned couches sat along the length, most of them empty.
Upon the farthest one to the right, she spied a figure in white and black.
“Aleigh, is that you?” she shouted, her voice echoing across the hall. She broke into a small run until she almost tripped on the heels of her boots.
“Ruthenia,” answered Aleigh from afar, rising from his seat she approached. “You made it on time.”
Ruthenia skidded to a stop as she reached him, almost rubbing her eyes before remembering the mascara. Today, he looked nothing like the classmate she knew. He had on the ceremonial uniform she'd seen in some of his portraits: white gleaming buttons, golden braided cords and epaulettes on his shoulders. His hair was tied in a ribbon as always, but today it was combed into immaculate golden waves and ringlets.
“Well, you're dressed up,” she breathed, as she scaled the steps to meet him.
“I could say the same.”
Grinning, she joined him on the velvet couch, hooking her umbrella onto the handle. “What do you want with me till six o’clock, anyway?” she asked, straightening her skirts.
“I haven’t much planned,” he answered, eyes trained on her. “I feared you might come under-prepared and I meant to make time for any necessary adjustments, but now I see my worry was misplaced. You have done well. Perhaps too well.”
“Why, thank you, I even learned the Helika Waltz, you know.”
He sighed. “Ruthenia, you were meant to appear as ineligible as possible.”
She lifted an eyebrow and smirked. “Oh, you think I look good?”
“Well—I—” He closed his eyes. “I think we can make this work. Just act like you hate me.”
“Oh, that'll be easy. Stupid Arcane Priss, quit sticking up your nose at the riffraff.”
To her surprise, her companion laughed. It took her a moment to realise she’d never heard him laugh before. “That's more like it.” Then he glanced up at the hallway, at the banner on the wall. “Since we have no more business here, we could very well depart for the ceremonial hall now.” Rising, he turned to offer her a gloved hand. “Shall we?”
She saw, now, how the light of these halls had changed them. Or perhaps it was simply the dressing-up, the masks they wore. But he was not her classmate today. His movements, his dress, his speech, all were premeditated and practised—practised to be effortless, for so many guests before her.
She ignored the extended hand, springing from her seat with an unfamiliar click of heels. “Yes, let's get this over and done with,” she said.
Together they descended to where the black carpet lay, then followed it to the end of the hall. They rounded the banner wall: a screen-wall, hiding the lift from view. It was a square prism of glass and marble, hanging in a hole cut for it. The beaming operator awaited them at its door.
Ruthenia felt a shiver envelop her, footsteps faltering. Aleigh turned when he noticed her trailing. “If you must leave an impression,” he said, “make it a good one.”
They stepped onto the marble platform. The operator offered the Arcane Prince a bow, then one to Ruthenia, then extended an open palm towards her. She stood frowning at him before Aleigh whispered, “your umbrella.” Hastily she offered it up, feeling a little less safe without its weight. With a twirl of his hand, the platform began to descend, silently, through the shaft.
Ruthenia paced about inside the chamber, shivers rippling up her neck. Beside her, Aleigh stood motionless, watching his own reflection in the glass. She pulled her limbs around herself as they slipped away from the marble and the light. For a minute, the starry purple sky was all around them, glittering beyond the glass, the golden palace laid out all around, above and below.
Then the floating elevator was swallowed by the building below. A thin line of gold light appeared at their feet. The chatter grew loud and lively, full of laughter and clinking glasses. Sliver by sliver, the hall revealed itself: a hundred guests conversing amongst themselves between sips of cocktail, ranks of velvet chairs arranged like pieces on a board, a stage dressed in dark blue velvet curtains.
The elevator eased to a stop, and the door slid open, the roar of conversation tiding in. The bright lights sent Ruthenia into a sudden stir of nerves and she dizzily snatched her companion’s arm, and together they entered.