Easternport Vol. 1, First Edition

Rahab - Part 2

Cory

Mikkel pulled the stolen limo up to the Capital building at 11pm. Nate jumped out of the front passenger seat, dressed in his nicest clothes, and gracefully opened the back passenger door for me. I stepped out carefully. Having never worn high heels before, walking and standing had to be relearned. I took the hand Nate offered and pulled myself into a standing position, smoothing out my white dress and pulling the last of my skirt from the limousine door. Miles peered out at me from inside the limo; his face drawn, but he said nothing. He had been begging me the whole ride to reconsider, but there was no way I was going to waste my first dress.

The building was lit up inside and out by a spectacular array of white lights. They glittered and glowed through the building, softening the atmosphere into a something like a dream. Against the dim and dying city of Easternport, the Capital building looked like a cloud of white fire in the haze of the night.

I walked carefully up the front steps, feeling under-practiced and clumsy in my new shoes. "Don't speak unless spoken to. Don't look anyone in the eyes," I repeated quietly to myself. I could still hear the king's voice dictating the rules in his soft adeligic accent.

Inside the building, I followed the strings of white lights into the ballroom where people in white were moving around the room—dancing, talking, eating, and laughing. Each of them looked at me as I passed. "Don't dance and don't touch anything," I whispered under my breath.

I kept my eyes down as I made my way into the room, hugging the wall to stay out of sight. It didn't work. Everyone recognized me by the king's property brand on my upper right arm and stared with disapproving looks. I felt embarrassed—as if a part of my clothing was missing—and instinctively put my left hand over the insignia. I knew what they were thinking. None of them thought I deserved to be there, even though I played a key part in making all this happen. None of them thought I should exist at all. They called me terrible names and didn't even consider my brothers to be people. I realized why Miles hadn't wanted me to come. This feeling of being scorned was unbearable.

This was not the party I had imagined. In my mind, I was going to be ignored and left alone to watch the adeliges dance. In my mind, I was going to absorb the happiness of the occasion, not the hatred of their disapproving glares. I started to wonder why Mikkel ever let me go. He always knew better than I did about these things. He should have known.

I made it to the back of the room and leaned against the wall to stare at the floor. I could hear people whispering about me—some in English, others in Gebrochen—but no one approached me or said anything to make me leave. So I stayed slumped against the wall, uncomfortable in my new heels and breaking all the posture rules that Miles had taught me when we first met. "Don't speak unless spoken to. Don't look anyone in the eyes. Don't dance and don't touch anything," I muttered again. "I can make it 'til twelve."

"Good evening," came a voice in front of me.

I flinched and looked up to see who it was, remembered the rule and quickly dropped my eyes to the ground again. Then, I remembered the other rule, made a bit of a curtsy and said, "Good evening," to the ground.

"I understand you've been given special permission from the king to be here tonight," said the man with sharp blue eyes I was not supposed to have seen. He spoke with that soft adeligeic voice that I liked, but carried none of the coldness of the room. His "r"s came off his tongue like feathers, and all of his syllables rolled gently together in a sort of lullaby tone. It was very pleasant to listen to.

"Yes, sir," I said.

"That's very nice. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Ian Fuchs."