“I’ll get you back for that!” Cleon said. “You’ll see.”
“Oh, just learn your lesson already,” she said. She turned her attention to Lucian. “Well? How do I look?”
“You look uh . . . good,” Lucian said.
“Uh, good?” She smiled. “Well, that’s better than uh, awful.” She plopped onto the couch beside him. “This dress is not comfortable at all. Hopefully, they give me something new for this soiree thing.”
“Speaking of,” Fergus said, “we need a plan for how we’re going to get through it.”
“We still haven’t finished discussing the possibility of Lucian being branded,” Cleon said. “I’ll admit it’s improbable, but none of you know the Sorceress-Queen as I do. I’ve lived much of my life in Dara, and I’ve enacted her orders. She is not to be trusted in the least.”
“Of course she’s not,” Serah said, now filing her nails. Where had she found that? “But that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy some comforts in the meantime.”
“Where is this Jarvis supposed to be?” Fergus said. “I could do with a rest and a bath myself. In my own chambers, of course.”
Fergus was clearly a bit shyer than Serah. Then again, most people were shyer than her.
There was a knock at the door, which opened to reveal a short, mustachioed man dressed in fine violet linens laced with gold trim. His nose was turned into the air, and his eyes hooded. Lucian didn’t know how the man managed it, but even from his height, he was able to look down upon them.
“Master Lucian, Master Cleon, Master Fergus, and Mistress Serah,” he said in a stuffy tone, giving a slight bow. “My name is Jarvis Tian, and I am head butler of the Golden Palace. I’m here personally to inform you that each of your rooms is waiting for you. When the masters are ready, I will lead you to your new accommodations, where you might take refreshment, bathe, and be outfitted for the soiree this evening.”
“So soon?” Serah asked. “I thought I might have a bit of a nap first.”
“I’m afraid that will not be possible,” Jarvis said. “My instructions are from Queen Ansaldra Dara herself, and they must be followed to the letter.”
“He couldn’t disobey her if he tried,” Fergus said. “For what it’s worth.”
Lucian took that to mean that Jarvis had been branded. The mere thought gave Lucian a chill. “I guess I’ll see you three later.”
Jarvis bowed low and closed the door behind him.
“Snooty man,” Serah said. “Lucian, I’ll see you at the soiree.” At the other two, she arched an eyebrow. “Well, are you coming, or are you going to make me wait all day?”
With a grumble, Cleon stood, and Fergus followed behind. Once all three were out of the door, Lucian was left in silence for the first time in what seemed forever.
He looked around the luxurious space, wondering how in the Worlds he’d found himself here. And how in the Worlds he’d get everyone out of it.
38
Lucian took a bath, luxuriating for at least half an hour and almost falling asleep before he heard the door to his chambers open. He hastily dried off, dressing in some new clothing he had left beside the tub. But when he went out, no one was there. However, a meal was waiting for him on the dining room table, a plate filled with what looked like steak, vegetables, and bread.
He ate ravenously. He hadn’t had anything all day, so he couldn’t worry about small details like being poisoned. The Queen would have killed him by now if she wanted, anyway.
No sooner than when he was done, there was another knock at the door. Jarvis himself entered with four servants behind him. The head butler cleared his throat, as if he didn’t already have Lucian’s attention.
“The Queen has asked me to prepare you personally for the soiree tonight. She intends to take you as her consort.”
Lucian nearly choked on his food. From Jarvis’s tone, there was no room for refusal. “Uh . . . are you sure about that?”
“Quite. It is an honor usually reserved for the highest – and most handsome, I might add – Mage-Lords of the Empire. I’m sure you are quite pleased.”
Well, this certainly would not go over well with his friends. Was this the Queen’s way of driving a larger wedge between them?
He thought of how to respond. “I suppose I can’t refuse.”
Jarvis’s face paled, clearly horrified. The Queen would probably have his head if he returned with that news.
“All right, then,” Lucian said. “Let’s get this over with.”
“I’m pleased, sir. When the gentleman has finished eating, please come to the mirror, that we might attend to you.”
Lucian put his fork down. Better to get this over and done with.
Jarvis and his servants attended to him immediately, with Jarvis whistling a merry tune. Lucian was dressed in vestments worthy of a king. First, they measured him efficiently, and within moments, found him a black dress shirt and black pants, of quality as fine as anything on Earth. Even finer. Over the shirt went a tunic of red with gold trim, with a Septagon of seven colored jewels on the breast – ruby, spessartite, citrine, emerald, sapphire, amethyst, and diamond. Lucian’s eyes popped as the gems sparkled at him from the mirror. He wondered whether they had been mined or created atomically, such was their size and purity. The tunic was cinched with a black belt with a silver buckle, studded with diamonds and rubies. Black leather boots were fitted to his feet, his hair cut, combed, pasted, and his face shaved.
The face staring back at him from the mirror was shocking. It belonged to a man ten years older than the one who had left Earth – all hard edges, fierce brown eyes, with new lines and wrinkles. He even had a few scars he hadn’t known were
