The Cleansing (Book One: The Folara Chronicles)

019: Kara

Kara began her descent slowly, savoring the last vestiges of darkness at the top of the stairs, keeping her eyes straight ahead.

Here she is, the Royal Princess, Kara. She heard the murmuring begin as she stepped. The music began a traditional 'welcome Princess' march. She scowled. It wouldn't be happening if it wasn't an 'occasion', if her Father were not in attendance, or if Galantyne had not forced her to be there.

At the foot of the stairs, with their blaze of comfortable red carpet, Kara noted Korlon not facing her, waiting.

He would be waiting for me, she thought angrily. He can run off and leave me, but he can also follow protocol.

Kara did not look down. Her training in all things ceremonial left her no choice but to keep her chin up, her eyes forward, and her back rigid. There would be no reason for her Father to complain of her tonight.

When she was halfway down the stairs, she stopped to survey the crowd. The room had been decorated to celebrate the holiday, and servers dressed as sea creatures flitted in and out with trays bearing exotic beverages.

Tonight, her dress was cream colored, its edges burnt lavender, and a long purple sash trailed from her waist to the floor. The back of the gown shimmered with stones sewn into the fabric to give it shine. It was high-necked and cut to the waist in the back, and soft air caressed the unfamiliarly exposed skin.

Jerrika had chosen it a week ago for this event. They were to have complimented each other. Jerrika's dress was the same style, but the opposite colors. Jerrika would have done her hair for her, but since she wasn't there, Kara wore it up in a tail, wrapped around itself several times so that it fell away from her shoulders. There were jewels in her hair reminiscent of her mother. She was told she resembled her mother.

Kara glanced down the stairs, feeling the agony of putting on a false face. Her heart ached with separation like she'd never experienced in her life.

Jerrika!

The weight of grief threatened to crush her. Kara's hand rose to ward off the persistent feeling of panic that occasionally overwhelmed her the last two days.

Her eyes clouded, and she stopped walking, staring sightlessly. Regret and dismay filled her and she turned to go back to her rooms.

Suddenly, a feeling of peace descended over her. It came from outside herself as if Jerrika gave her strength to endure the coming moments. She sensed an inner light that shared itself with her on such a deep level she couldn't quite pinpoint it, but nevertheless was grateful for it.

Jerrika was alive! She knew it!

The feeling persisted. Kara forced herself to breathe, to savor the moment. Her inner core seemed on fire with the warmth of confidence and comfort afforded her. She would have thought Jerrika the giver... would have thought it, except it felt wondrously like something else, something even stronger than her bond with Jerrika. She allowed it to sustain her as she forced herself to continue the silent march down the royal steps.

Now she could attend the Festival of the Harvest Moons.

*******

Cursing his ceremonial robes, Quildor strode through the halls in determination.

He entered Adara's chamber in silence, and walked purposefully past her, to the viewing window. The scene there was ridiculously peaceful. The girl was laying on the elegant comforter, looking every inch the pampered princess that she was.

For a second, his eyes narrowed. In his mind he saw honey curls flying past his face as he and Ondrea rode his horse on the practice fields of Etrusia, her lithe body pressed to him. He felt her laughter at something he said. The way her breasts rested on his forearm around her ribs, delicate and firm. All the attending memories flooded him in searing anguish. With deep longing, he once again eyed the girl in fascination.