Jala's Mask (5 page)

“Not even queen for a day and already vain,” her father teased, laughing. But then he leaned forward and whispered to her. “You've always looked like a queen to me. Don't forget that.”

She held on tightly to Marjani's hand as they led her back to her room, then pulled her friend inside the room before shutting the door. Her father's words had already faded to the back of her mind, replaced by the thousand other thoughts screaming for attention, only to be pushed aside a moment later.

“So is the new queen going to give me my hand back?” Marjani said, tugging at the hand Jala still clutched tightly.

“No, the new queen is not,” Jala said in her best imperious tone. It still took her two tries to get the words out. She pressed her head against Marjani's arm and laughed. “It's like I've forgotten how to breathe.”

“You're breathing right now,” Marjani whispered.

“What if I'm dreaming right now? What if in a moment I'll wake and it'll be this morning all over again?”

“And he'll still pick you, and you'll still be queen. Do you want me to pinch you?”

“No. If it's a dream, it better stay around for a while. At least long enough for me to kiss Azi again. In fact, it can just skip right to that part.”

Marjani laughed weakly, but she looked away. “Are you scared?” she asked.

“Terrified,” Jala admitted.

“Well, you won't be for long. That's how you are, you'll have it all figured out,” Marjani said. She hesitated, as if she was going to say something else but was cut off by a sharp knock on the door.

Jala's mother entered the room without waiting for an answer. Her smile was bright and determined. “Marjani, I'd like to speak with our new queen, please.”

Marjani nodded. “You really do need to let me have my hand back now,” she said. “I promise it's not going anywhere.”

“Sorry,” Jala said, though what she really meant was thank you. She let Marjani go.

“You won't be able to stay in here forever,” her mother said once Marjani had left. “Your father's already planning a feast tonight. We want all of our cousins to see you. Let the villages speak of how much like a queen you look.” As she talked, her mother began to go through Jala's clothes, pulling out outfits she thought might suit a queen. It was almost a reflex, Jala thought.

“Wasn't Father complaining about the cost of all the feasts just a day ago?” Jala said.

“And he'll complain about these to me as well,” her mother said. “We have a lot of planning ahead of us. Here. I think this will do well enough for the day. Not too bold, not too humble. Good enough for your king and your father both, I think.”

Jala's mother stopped fiddling with clothes and turned to look at Jala. She smiled a little sadly. “There was a little part of me that was glad you wouldn't be leaving quite so soon. Did you know about this the whole time? I thought you took things too far trying to convince that boy to pick you, but you showed me, didn't you?”

“I didn't know,” Jala said. “And I wasn't trying to convince him of anything. I just . . . wanted to kiss him.”

“Well, you'll have time for that once you're married. Get dressed. They all expect to see a queen.”

Then her mother left, too, and Jala was alone. She dressed, ignoring the clothes her mother had laid out for her and instead chose bright, bold clothing and an elaborate hairpiece of lacquered mainland wood and feathers from local birds. She looked at her reflection in the full-length looking glass her father had given her as a present on her sixteenth birthday.

It was a gift worthy of a queen. Unlike cloth and precious stones, glass, especially a pane so large, was almost impossible to take unbroken on a raid. Instead, it had to be traded for in the Constant City, the great bazaar-city of the mainland. She'd probably have to leave it behind when she left. She'd have to leave a lot of things behind.

She adjusted the hairpiece and took several deep breaths until her expression was calm and her excitement and fear no longer showed. Looking back at her from the looking glass wasn't Jala, but a queen. She wasn't just a normal girl anymore.

For the first time, she thought to wonder what Azi was thinking at this moment. Did he feel the way she did? Was he glad that he'd gone against his uncle's wishes? He won't hate being king if he has someone to help him, she told herself. With my help, he'll be a better king than his brother could have ever been. Better than his father, too. She would tell him that the next time she had a chance . . . whenever that would be. They weren't going to let them be alone together, not now that everything was settled.

“It won't be that long,” she whispered to the queen looking back at her, thinking again about that kiss. Then she turned away and went to face the Bardo, and the Kayet, and all of the Second Isle.

She was wrong, though. It was a long time. Azi had said he'd marry her that day, but that had been more of a threat aimed at his uncle than any real intention. There would be a proper royal wedding. They would both be shown off to the five families. It wasn't about them getting married, not really. It was about a king marrying a queen. So the unbearably long hours stretched into unbearably long days, and somehow those turned into weeks. According to tradition, the king couldn't be alone with her until the day of the wedding. Jala could only manage a few words to Azi, always in the company of both families, always too formal for her to say anything meaningful. There was no more midnight kissing.

As the days went on, Jala became more and more aware of how little she knew about Azi. She knew next to nothing about him as a king or as a man. She'd thought about being queen, and she'd imagined many times what it might be like to be with a man, but she hadn't thought much about being married.

The feasts and dances were a welcome distraction, but even that was frustrating. The king wasn't allowed to dance with her, so she was back to dancing with Marjani, like a child. The rest of the time she had nothing to do but wait while everyone made preparations for her wedding. The nearest family, the Gana, arrived the next day, and the rest trickled in over time.

Servants packed Jala's clothes only to unpack them every time she needed a new dress. Her hair was redone each night in increasingly elaborate styles. Beads and shells clattered when she danced, until she thought the chattering sound would drive her mad.

“It's all so unreal,” Jala said to Marjani. It was almost time for another dinner with one of the families, and Marjani had been busy with Jala's hair for hours. “I never thought it would feel so . . . oh, I don't know. Sometimes I feel like I'm flying above a storm, and other times I want to crawl into a hut on the other side of the island and hide there until this is all over.”

“Did you at least remember how to breathe?” Marjani asked.

“I think so. But maybe you could remind me sometimes, just in case I forget again.”

Marjani laughed at this, but weakly and without looking at Jala. “Do you think you really could? Run off, I mean?”

“There are only five islands to hide on. Mother would find me,” Jala said. “Besides, I'm going to marry Azi. I'm going to be queen! Those parts are fine; it's this endless wedding that I can't take anymore.”

“You never hear stories about the queens,” Marjani said. “They probably thought they were going to be great too.”

Jala jerked her hair out of Marjani's hands. Beads clattered to the floor. Her scalp ached where her hair had gotten pulled, but it didn't hurt as much as Marjani's words had. “I never said I was going to be great. But I'm going to try. What's wrong with that?”

“Nothing. Forget about it,” Marjani said. She bent down and started to collect the beads.

“You've been acting strangely for days now. This isn't all about me. It's about our whole family. So why aren't you happy?”

Marjani was quiet for several moments. When she spoke, her voice was soft. “Because you're leaving and you don't even care. Everything's about being the queen or about Azi. When's the last time you asked about me? Or about anything happening here not related to your wedding?”

“Of course I care that I'm leaving,” Jala said. “But there's nothing I can do about it, is there? It's hard enough having to leave home without you throwing it in my face.”

“If I'm making things so hard for you, you can do your own damn hair.” Marjani let the beads she was holding fall to the floor and went to the door.

“Wait,” Jala said, half standing. “Don't go. I'm sorry, I didn't mean it. I know everything's been about me. And I have to act happy all the time, even if I'm scared, too. I have to start acting like the queen, and I don't know how. I wish you could come with me. You know I do.”

“I know,” Marjani said softly without turning around.

Jala walked over and took Marjani's hand with both of hers. “I think you're the only one who cares more about me leaving than about me becoming queen. Why don't we sneak out to go swimming tonight? On the other side of the island, away from everyone. I only have to act like a queen where someone might see me.”

“We haven't done that since we were little,” Marjani said, the hint of a smile on her face. “But your mother won't like it if she finds out.”

“Well, I am the queen, as she's often reminding me,” Jala said. “We'll go tonight.”

Jala chose a simple dress for her midnight swim, one she could ruin without her mother noticing. She locked her door and sent away the servants who came to help her dress for the night's festivities. But there was still her mother to deal with. Lady Zuri arrived shortly after Jala had dismissed the third servant.

“Jala?” Her mother tried the door. “Are you even dressed yet?”

“I don't feel well,” Jala called back. “I'm not going tonight.”

“Queens don't allow a little headache to keep them in bed,” her mother said. “You'll get up now and make yourself presentable.”

“It's not a headache,” Jala said, letting her voice waver a little. “I can't dance tonight. I don't think queens get sick all over their dress in front of everyone.”

“Well, if she did, she'd pretend it didn't happen, and so would everyone else.” Her mother sighed loudly. “But we don't want you keeling over in the first dance. You're excused for tonight.”

Jala held her breath until she heard her mother's footsteps retreating down the hall. Then she threw a scarf over her head to hide her face from a casual glance and slipped down the hall in the opposite direction.

A few minutes later, Marjani met her outside with a rolled-up blanket and two towels, and they walked along the beach to the north side of the island. They kept to the edges of the bonfires until they were well away from the manor. Except for the occasional offer of a drink or a dance, nobody paid them much mind.

It took nearly an hour to reach the north side of the island. The beach was deserted. Everyone had gone off to celebrate Jala's upcoming marriage and drink Lord Mosi's wine.

The moon was bright, and the water in the bay was cool and calm. For a while they splashed and laughed the way they had when they were children, then when they were tired of that they floated side by side and stared up at the stars.

“Don't fall asleep,” Marjani said. “The Kayet will blame me if you drown.”

Jala snorted. “Lord Inas would probably thank you.”

Somewhere out past the sandbar that kept all but the high tide at bay, she could hear the splash and whistle of dolphins playing. Sometimes they would jump the sandbar and spend a while teasing anyone in the bay, but tonight Jala and Marjani had it all to themselves.

“I should probably get back, before I get any more wrinkled,” Jala said.

“Maybe your king would like you with wrinkles,” Marjani said. “You'll get them eventually, anyway.”

They swam back to the shore and dried themselves. But Jala made no move to actually start walking again. Neither did Marjani.