Double Life - Book 1 of the Vaiya Series (14 page)

A new wave of fear immediately swept over
Ian, as he wondered why he’d even added that last part about being
drawn here. Not only had he so quickly failed in his resolve to not
say more than was necessary, but his comment had only worsened the
situation. Now everybody at this table probably thought that he was
a spy sent on a mission by the dwarves. He wanted to lock himself
away in the cellar of a remote monastery for his stupidity.

Flinching with anxiety, feeling very
unsettled that the prince’s hand was still on his shoulder, as he
really didn’t like to be touched, especially not by royalty, Ian
watched the prince’s face grow sterner by the moment and he knew he
had to say something. After several seconds of hasty thought, he
finally replied, “No specific person drew me here, Your Highness. I
came here merely by accident.”

Taking in this information thoughtfully,
removing his hand nimbly from Ian’s shoulder, Taishan’s expression
remained nearly the same, except for the slightest trace of doubt
furrowing his brow, as he folded his hands and closed his eyes
partway, keeping his courtly bearing. “By accident?” he asked, in a
reserved manner. “Were you shipwrecked? Did the Verandel pirates
banish you to this island?”

Frustrated by the torrent of questions, Ian
watched as many lavishly dressed elves took seats on the two long
tables in front of him nearly filling them up. Surprisingly,
however, none had sat on the table with the princes yet, as if they
were trying to avoid them, or him. It worried him; he didn’t know
what to make of it.

Wary, he glanced over his shoulder at the
prince and replied rather nervously, “Neither one, Your
Highness.”

Taishan raised an eyebrow. “Neither one?”

A bolt of fear struck his heart. He was
stuck. He had no choice now but to either make up a complete lie or
tell the truth.

Struggling with the decision, not able to
come up with a convincing enough lie, he was forced to be honest,
despite how phony and pathetic his story sounded. “Um …. I know
this may sound odd to you,” he muttered, shifting nervously in his
chair, “but I was actually teleported here by lightning, Your
Highness.”

Taishan’s eyes darkened immensely as he
stared at Ian, his face somber and humorless. “Lightning has been
known to break the dimensional seal in the past, and allow the user
to shift from place to place. However, only one has ever yet
harnessed this force.”

“And who would that be?” asked Ian rather
timidly, chilled by the prince’s cold tone.

“His name is Zharmun, the leader of the
Elayan, and he’s been dead for over two hundred and fifty years.”
The prince stared straight at Ian piercing him through with his
sapphire blue eyes as if they were shards of glass. “Do you dare
claim the power of teleportation, a power only possessed by the
Dark Lord?”

“No, Your Highness,” Ian argued, trying to
regain his composure both from his words and his accusation, deeply
frightened that Zharmun in some invisible, immaterial form could
possibly be living in Hazel’s attic right now. “I was forced
against my will to come here. If I had my way, I’d be at a party
right now.”

“A party?” Taishan murmured, his face blank.
“I’m not sure I understand what you’re saying.”

Ian forced back his impatience. “It’s sort of
like a social gathering, Your Highness.”

Taishan gave him a look of understanding. “So
lightning teleported you from there to here?”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Ian replied, already
completely sick of this polite form of address.

An eerie glimmer crossed his face. “So you
believe Zharmun to still be alive?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not sure what
to think, Your Highness.”

Looking slightly annoyed with his response,
the prince wasted no more time with sharp questionings and got
straight to the facts, his face turning as stern as a metal rod:
“Though you say that you are here against your will, it has been
divulged to us by Azadar Silverheart,” he began, pausing ominously,
“that you are a spy for Tazik.” Gazing at him with faint curiosity,
he added, “Do you deny his claims?”

Ian tensed. “Yes, Your Highness,” he
murmured, only managing to resist the urge to shout it because he
was speaking to royalty. “There’s simply no proof. When he found
me, I was taking a nap. What kind of spy does that?” His tone was
far from polite, even accusatory, yet he couldn’t do much about it.
He’d never had any experience with such polite etiquette and
customs, and who could blame him? The last thing he’d expected when
he’d woken up this morning was that he’d be eating with elven
royalty at a lavish feast. He simply wasn’t prepared.

As he waited anxiously for his response
hoping he’d buy into this logic, the prince stared at him with a
glimmer of kindness in his eyes. “What you say is true, Ian,” he
said candidly. “No spy that I’ve read about has ever been caught
sleeping.”

Eyes wide, Ian nearly jolted out of his seat,
not anticipating him to agree so easily. Staring nervously at the
handsome prince, having no real good answer for him, Ian replied
gratefully, “Thank you, Your Highness.”

As the eldest prince’s eyes widened slightly
at his thankful face before quickly becoming impassive and stolid,
the king gazed darkly at Ian as if trying to intimidate him. With
no one saying a word, the queen looking thoroughly uncomfortable,
it was a welcome relief when Saku, a warm-hearted smile on his
face, spoke: “Ian, do you enjoy running?”

Astonishment crossed his face, both from his
happy appearance and his words. Had Prince Saku even been listening
to the former conversation? And did the prince somehow know that
running was his favorite sport? “Running, Your Highness?” Ian
questioned.

The prince just smiled, clearing up Ian’s
confusion, as he swept his hand through his long golden hair. “Yes.
Hasan Seavale informed me that you nearly managed to keep up with
his stride. With you being a human that is remarkable.” Pausing, a
good-natured twinkle in his eyes, he then added offhandedly, “Do
you run in the Lavosk Marathon?”

“Yes … I mean no,” Ian stumbled over his
words in a blurred haste. Sure, he’d never heard of the Lavosk
Marathon before, but Saku didn’t have to know that. “Why do you
ask, Your Highness?”

Once again, the prince smiled at him.
“Because you have the swiftness and endurance for it,” he said--a
sharp contrast to that of Coach Sandler’s unelaborate compliment
earlier that day--before adding with a daring look, “If you were
ever to run in the marathon, I would expect an uncontested victory
from you.”

Startled by his words, Ian shifted nervously
in his chair again, trying in vain to shrug off the heavy, if not
flattering, compliment. “Thank you, Your Highness,” he replied,
bowing his head slightly to him, now feeling strangely guilty for
turning down Coach Sandler. “That means a lot coming from you.”

Lowering his eyebrows, his cheerful smile
diminishing somewhat, Prince Saku puzzled over the meaning of his
last sentence, before clasping his hands to his heart, a rapid
gesture that surprised Ian, a warm glow reappearing in his eyes.
Before he could break into further dialogue with Ian, however, the
king announced the arrival of the elven Princess Saeya as she
strode solemnly into the room, her ruby encrusted teal sandals
clicking as they touched the gilded floor. Filling his silver
goblet with a bluish liquid, Prince Saku smiled at her, as she made
her way to the side of the table opposite him.

As for Ian, breathing a sigh of relief that
his weird dialogue with Saku had ended, he turned his head slightly
and saw her, charming face as wild as the clouds in the sky, fine
scarlet hair falling down in ripples upon her shoulders, and sea
green dress ruffling with every step she took. He was overcome. He
felt traitorous to his kind to think it, but even Hazel or Tianna
couldn’t compare to this elven woman.

Bashful, he tried to avoid eye contact. But
it was too late. Her teal blue eyes met Ian’s, studying him as if
he were a rare painting, as she took the open seat right in front
of him, arms at her sides. After greeting him with the same
expression Taishan had used earlier, she then asked inquisitively,
“So, you are a human?” She focused her penetrating eyes on his
ears, and then shifted to study the rest of his features, her
spring flower perfume reaching him across the table.

“Yes, I am, Your Highness.” He blushed under
her scrutiny, heart thumping louder.

His words amused her, or perhaps it was that
and his embarrassment. Whatever it was, she laughed softly, and
then, holding the pitcher, poured the blue liquid into his silver
goblet, saying, “Ian, I feel honored to be visited by a human from
so far away. Rarely do we see humans here, other than faint
glimpses of pirates from Verandur being hauled off to the Nakar
Dungeon. Your presence here is a refreshing breeze.”

Ian’s eyes widened, though he still kept a
dry smile on his face. Was it her intention that her
polite-sounding words actually made him feel worse than if she’d
said nothing at all? Maybe it was just him, but grouping him up
with imprisoned criminals had a sort of sickening effect, saying
nothing of that fact that she brought up the issue of him coming
here from so far away again, a theory she nor anyone here likely
believed.

Thanking her for her unusual kindness, none
of his suspicion showing, he picked up his goblet and drank from
it, thirsty from all the running earlier. Raspberry juice mixed
with vanilla extract and honey immediately engulfed his taste buds,
overwhelming his senses.

Picking up a slice of the crispy golden
bread, Ian bit into it, the taste of wheat and butter quickly
flooding his taste buds. It was delicious--much better than his
mom’s homemade whole grain bread.

Before he could relax for long though, the
princess, smiling warmly, asking unexpectedly: “What kind of
shampoo did you use, Ian?”

Unnerved, he felt his cheeks grow red, as he
remembered the words of the messenger about him using the “lady’s
room”. Here he’d not given much thought about the flowery scent on
his skin but now he felt fully ashamed. No doubt, her parents and
brothers thought even worse of him for this blunder. “I don’t know,
Your Highness,” he finally muttered. “I just took the first one I
could find.”

Her eyes brightened, as she blushed at his
faux pas. “You made a good choice. Rose wild berry is one of my
favorite scents.”

Embarrassment covered his face, as the two
princes exchanged weird looks with each other; he didn’t care how
she knew the scent--all he knew was that the subject had to change.
“Thanks, I guess, Your Highness.” He bit his tongue, expecting her
to continue this disgraceful topic.

But she didn’t. Seriousness in her eyes,
replacing every semblance of her former humor, she turned her
attention to more important matters: “So, where do you plan on
going next, Ian?”

“I’m not sure, Your Highness,” he murmured,
offering what sounded like a clear avoidance of the question.
Watching her eyes grow from dim to instantly dark, he knew he had
to clarify himself: “Though I may go to the Southern Isles once I’m
done here.”

Nervous, as the princess’s bright eyes dimmed
considerably, Ian set down his bread, his heart beating within him.
He just wanted to make it through this feast without being accused
again of being a spy and being dragged off to the Nakar Dungeon, or
worse, being executed. The more he said though, the more he risked
losing everything, as his true story would just seem like pure
fiction. His only ally was ambiguity, yet even that could be
construed as deception or hostility. He really didn’t have much of
a chance.

Glancing at the princess, as her smile faded
even further, Ian watched her brush a few strands of scarlet hair
behind her ear, her elegant bearing no doubt keeping her from
showing irritation.

As he waited suspensefully for her reply, her
sober expression mixed with coldness as she pressed on. “And what
do you plan on doing there?”

Ian probed his mind for a logical answer.
“Meet people; make connections--just the usual, Your Highness.”

Looking thoroughly confused for a split
second, the princess quickly composed herself. “And who might these
people be?”

His heart pounded within him; how much longer
could he keep up this facade? “You know,” he replied, light humor
in his voice, “just normal citizens--nobody of any real importance,
Your Highness.”

Pondering over his words for several seconds,
Princess Saeya quickly changed the topic as if not knowing what to
say:

“I’ve heard you’ve had a dark day, Ian,” she
said, a mysterious tone in her voice.

Ian started, not liking the sound of her
words. “What do you mean, Your Highness?”

She paused as if in deep thought. “Azadar has
informed us that you’ve been pursued by the Elayans.” Her
countenance grew grimmer at the mere mention of the sorcerers. She
paused briefly, a glimmer of disgust in her teal blue eyes. “Would
you mind telling me how you’ve escaped from them entirely
unscathed?”

Ian hesitated, pondering over her harsh
inquiry, as the king gazed at him ominously, as if awaiting his
every word. “I don’t know,” he finally murmured, fear in his eyes,
as he recalled the sudden attack of the three Elayan. “It all
happened so fast.”

As he stopped, adrenaline rushing through
him, he glanced around him and shuddered, extremely uncomfortable
with the topic, and noticed King Kadeth leaning forward in his seat
with an icy glimmer in his eyes, while Prince Taishan gazed at him
with a faint irritation, likely hiding the deep-seated rage boiling
up inside.

As for Prince Saku and Queen Jahla, both of
their smiles had vanished when he’d mentioned the Elayans and they
both now stared at him with deep interest mixed with traces of
doubt in their eyes.