Double Life - Book 1 of the Vaiya Series (13 page)

Unfortunately, these last words enraged the
rather reserved king, who’d managed to keep his temper in check
until now. As Kadeth gripped his scepter tighter, doubt slashed
into his face, fury burning into his eyes like lava. “This lie has
been kept up long enough!” he shouted, startling Ian and the guards
around him, bringing a bloodthirsty longing for vengeance into
Azadar’s face. “Why are you avoiding telling me about your true
homeland?” Flecks of hot coals flashed through his eyes. “Speak
up!”

Ian fidgeted nervously, heart shaken like an
avalanche roaring down a mountain. Having no time to think up a
good reply, he said whatever came into his mind. “I’m sorry if it
sounded like I was lying to you, Your Majesty, but I’ve been
telling you the truth.”

The king widened his eyes briefly in
surprise, before staring at him coldly, his fury greatly
suppressed, as if he were deeply regretting his emotional outburst.
“How did you arrive in our kingdom then, if yours is so far away
that we haven’t even heard of it?”

He couldn’t avoid the question--it would make
him look like a fool or an even worse liar. Like it or not, he had
to tell the truth.

Groaning inwardly, chills racing down his
spine, he gazed up at the king and spoke with much reluctance, “Do
you believe in teleportation, Your Majesty?”

Silence immediately fell across the room,
dead silence, as unvoiced rage enveloped the guards and especially
Azadar, who all gazed at the king resolutely as if expecting him to
punish Ian and execute him right on the spot. Taking in their
shadowy stares, however, King Kadeth merely thumped his scepter
twice against the ground, saying, “Do you believe in the depths one
will plunge into to deceive another?”

His heart dropped. He wanted to vanish. “Yes,
I do, Your Majesty.” He paused respectably, before finishing, with
an eloquence previously foreign to him, “But to the best of my
knowledge, all my words about my arrival to your country were
true.”

The room quieted again. A deadly stillness
permeated the air. Ian could hear his own heart beating. The guards
stared frigidly at him as if he were a condemned traitor. Just when
he felt he couldn’t take the suspense any longer, a beautiful
symphony of flutes, violins, trumpets, and stringed instruments
flooded into his eardrums.

Wondering what was going on, he watched as
the king strode forward displeased, as if he’d been interrupted
right as he was about to discover the clue to a dark mystery.
“Follow me, boy,” commanded the king, quietly flinging out his left
arm to the side, a quick gesture that appeared to signal the end of
the conversation.

Bowing lowly to him, knowing that he was
headed to the evening feast as Azadar had mentioned it to him
earlier, Ian followed the king obediently, his heart still racing
from the heated conversation.

As for the king, slightly wrinkling his
forehead, he turned his back to Ian, his purple robe flowing
elegantly behind him, while dismissing Azadar who quickly exited
the room. Striding towards the dining hall, a troubled look in his
eyes, the king appeared entirely dissatisfied with the feast, as if
he’d just been about to figure something out before he was forced
to stop abruptly.

Though Ian could relate to his disappointment
as his mom had told him today to go inside and eat supper just when
he was about to try to replicate his skilled basketball shot, he
felt little sympathy for Kadeth.

Watching the king cautiously, not knowing
when he should follow, and not wanting to trail him, Ian kept a
wide berth and waited until the king reached the other end of the
room before following him. Anxiety crawled through his skin. He
felt like a man on death row eating his last meal. He’d escaped the
interrogation for now, but he knew that later it would only come
back stronger. This feast was only a minor delay in the king’s
plans. It wouldn’t go well. It couldn’t.

Exiting the throne room, Ian passed under a
high arched doorway, as he watched the king open a wide silver door
and stride into the banquet hall with an unusually regal air about
him, as if to show even more vividly the contrast between himself
and the young human trailing behind him.

Watching his dignified bearing with
annoyance, Ian, keeping a fifteen-foot distance from him, lifted
his head up high, put a noble stride into his steps, and smiled
faintly with a dignified appearance that he’d copied directly from
King Kadeth’s eldest son Prince Taishan. The king wouldn’t get the
privilege of shaming him in front of everyone for his ignoble
manners. Even though he had no experience in being courtly and
gallant, he knew enough to get by and like a chameleon could
quickly adjust to whatever circumstances were in front of him. He
wouldn’t let the king make a mockery of him.

Reaching the silver door the king had opened
over twenty seconds ago, Ian walked through it, his eyes instantly
flaming with astonishment; the place was enormous!

Though Hazel’s basement had impressed him
earlier that evening, it was nothing compared to this gigantic
banquet hall. From the marble ceiling, towering fifty feet above
him, hung hundreds of ornate gold-plated chandeliers with jade,
garnet, topaz, coral, amethyst, sapphire, and beryl lighting
fixtures that spread a beautiful rainbow of hues throughout the
hall.

The walls all around him sparkled with vivid
and colorful murals of peaceful streams, untouched forests, and
snow-capped mountains that blended so nicely he couldn’t even tell
where one had stopped and the other had begun. These 3D-looking
murals captivated his imagination and overwhelmed his heart.

Any second, he expected to see a weary
traveler in the distance climbing up the top of one of the
formidable mountains, a fierce jaguar peering out at him from the
dark, verdant forests with their glowing yellow eyes, or a sailor
disturbing the calm water with his oars; but after staring at the
murals for a while, he eventually gave up searching for them and
scanned around the rest of the lavishly decorated room.

The first thing that caught his attention was
four magnificent rectangular tables in front of him. Each one of
the long tables ran down the length of the gigantic hall, leaving
only ten feet of space to the walls on either side of them, and
each one was covered with gold and silver platters laden with
various kinds of rolls, meats, vegetables, and desserts. Tall,
silver ornamented stands on top of the tables contained
luscious-looking berries and lavender-colored strawberries, or so
they appeared to him.

Mouth now watering from the pleasant aromas
that wafted through the air, Ian watched as the king sat down on
the far end of the second table on a large golden chair and started
whispering to his sons, a hostile war-like look emanating from his
cold green eyes.

Intimidated, wanting to sit down as soon as
possible, for many elves, in particular, the elven queen, kept on
staring at him with subdued interest in their eyes, he,
nonetheless, glanced around him in confusion, not knowing where to
sit. Should he sit as far away from the king as possible? near the
king? or somewhere in the middle?

His first instinct was to sit away from the
king since he was of a much lower rank, wasn’t even an elf, and had
nearly been imprisoned earlier, yet that very act could be looked
upon with suspicion as if Ian wanted to avoid further conversation
with him. If he sat near the king though, it could appear as if he
were boasting himself to be somebody great when he hadn’t the
slightest drop of royal blood in his veins. He hated this
dilemma.

Standing in the middle of a room in front of
all these elves, most of whom were now watching him with looks of
cold indifference and stoic disinterest, Ian took a relaxed breath
and slowly approached the table, trying to appear as regal as he
could as he battled inwardly over where to sit. Fortunately, before
he had to make a choice, the decision was made for him, as the king
motioned for him to sit between two young splendidly robed elves,
whom Ian recognized from earlier as the king’s sons. Why they’d
left that random spot open for him seemed more than just
coincidence. Whatever their plans were, he already feared them.

Apprehensive, Ian took his seat nervously, a
sinking feeling in his heart, as the strong aromas from the
princes’ sweet expensive cologne surrounded him. Even though the
fragrances smelled surprisingly good, Ian found it more than a bit
strange that males would be wearing such strong scents. If he came
into school with such potent cologne on, he could only imagine the
looks the girls would give him.

Smiling slightly to himself at that thought,
he glanced around at them, taking in their noble postures, their
majestic yellow robes, and their powerful countenances, which
exuded confidence and authority, and his temperature immediately
rose, his smile entirely vanishing. What could be worse than
sitting between two elven princes, people nearly his same age who
were much more educated, regal, handsome, and wealthy than he?

Anxiety battering against all his attempts to
remain dignified and poised, Ian observed the king, seated two down
from him near the elven queen, gaze at him with displeasure.

As they made eye contact with each other,
however, the king spoke to him in a surprisingly relaxed and
friendly tone: “Ian, beside me is my wife, Queen Jahla Riverstone,
co-ruler of Amalon.”

As he motioned for her to talk, she greeted
him pleasantly. “May fortune reign down upon you, Ian.” She smiled
at him warmly, a direct contrast to the way her husband had
initially greeted him, her long reddish brown hair somehow
complementing her olive-green eyes.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty,”
he stammered, as they gave him a strange look for his weird
greeting. After a brief bout of silence, he felt like adding some
nicety about her having a charming name or a beautiful dress, but
thought against it. It would probably only make things worse.

Waiting in suspense as an eerie stillness
blanketed the conversation, Ian shuffled in his black marble chair
padded with a feathery butterscotch-colored cushion, as he felt the
eyes of the princes beside him bore into him. He knew it wouldn’t
be long before he was introduced to them. He was right.

“And over here are my two sons.” The king
glanced at them, acknowledging their presences to Ian.

As the king gave Ian an aloof smile and
motioned for his sons to speak, Ian felt himself growing sick from
uneasiness and struggled to keep a pleasant face. Though he
succeeded somewhat in that he didn’t look thoroughly miserable, he
didn’t look cheerful either.

On a normal day, this would’ve really
bothered him, as he could almost always mask his emotions and
feelings. Today, however, circumstances as they were, this didn’t
really bother him that much; his appearance was the least of his
problems.

As he leaned back in his chair to loosen up,
already anticipating the prince’s words, the eldest looking of the
two greeted him: “Blessings and strength to you, Ian,” he said
rather indifferently, a shining silver diadem glistening upon his
forehead, his fine auburn hair flowing halfway down his neck, his
pointed ears giving him a noticeably elven look: “I am Taishan,
eldest son of King Kadeth and Queen Jahla.”

“And I am Prince Saku, youngest son of King
Kadeth and Queen Jahla,” said the prince on Ian’s right, a noble,
yet warm tone in his voice, his emerald eyes glistening softly.
“May you be graced with dignity and light.”

Unused to such strange greetings, Ian parted
his lips, a feeling of complete unworthiness sweeping over him;
ready to murmur some thanks to them, he quickly decided against it.
If they were anything like their father, any sort of dialogue could
easily upset them, something he did not wish to do, as he currently
seemed to be on their good sides. Better not to say more than was
necessary.

Troubling over these thoughts, Ian wrapped
his face in a calm indifference, desperately hoping that the
princes wouldn’t suspect that he was suspicious of them.

Unfortunately, however, despite his
nonchalant attitude, the eldest prince somehow seemed to have
noticed his caution and hesitation. Secrecy clinging to him, he
took up the conversation again, examining Ian thoroughly with his
sparkling sapphire eyes. “My father has informed me that you’ve
come from afar, Ian,” he said, with a dark steady gaze reminiscent
of the Greek hero Theseus.

“Yes, that’s right, Your Highness.” Ian
nodded his head briefly, inwardly relieved that he’d remembered the
title for dignitaries, while at the same time already not liking
where this conversation was going.

To add to his angst, Taishan dissected his
words without any show of emotion, a quality, most likely elven,
that he was starting to find very annoying, as it made it nearly
impossible to tell what they were going to say next.

As Ian prepared himself for the worst,
Taishan surprised him by asking him a rather direct question. “So,
why have you come here, Ian?”

“I honestly don’t know, Your Highness,” he
managed to stammer, glancing at him, while tapping his fingers
nervously against his tunic under the table. What could he tell
him? that he was upstairs all by himself in the attic at Hazel’s
mansion when lightning had suddenly taken him here? No way. It
didn’t even make sense to him. And, besides, this theory had
already failed miserably with the king, so he had no reason to
assume it would fare any better with him.

Looking at the prince, who no doubt hated his
vague response, Ian felt he had to add something, so he murmured
anxiously, “I guess you could say I was drawn here, Your
Highness.”

A touch of frustration edged its way onto the
prince’s face, although it was quickly subdued by an intrigued
boldness. “Who drew you here?” he asked assertively, not able to
conceal all of his curiosity, as he set a firm, yet graceful white
hand on Ian’s shoulder.