Underground Royals — Chapters 4 & 5

The curtains add an orange glow to the morning light which streams through them in announcement of the risen sun. It reminds me of the times that Alfred would take me to beaches in Spain and we’d spend the morning in a beach hut, watching the ocean emerge under the golden shimmer. For a fleeting moment my mind conjures the rhythmic waves, soft on the sandy shore. I reach my hand out to the fabric of the curtain, noticing how up close the light pours through the fibres, no different from how it came through the beach-hut walls.

I shift my gaze to my wardrobe where my dress is waiting for me, glimmering in the light, before leaving the safe heaven of my powder pink room for breakfast.

The dining room was picture perfect. The dark walls were speckled with gold foil and in the middle of the ceiling above the perfectly straight spruce table was a candelabra. The runner that stretched down the table, had delicate floral designs woven in silver and blue and at the end of the table were floor to ceiling windows that gave an enviable view of the lake that was completely different depending on where you sat. The polished silver cutlery, studded with blue crystals at the base, glimmered in the winter sun. At each place stood a tall empty wine glass and there were beautifully folded napkins to match the runner.

But there was only one person sitting at the table; Alfred.

As I walk in as he is diligently spreading jam over a piece of toast with a sort of childish joy; as if for a moment he is absorbed by some unknown feeling of content which manifested in his subtle smile and soft gaze. Upon noticing me, he brought it over, and beckoned me to sit. This part of breakfast — him delivering me my toast while the staff brought out the rest of the food which I scarcely touched — had become a part of the rhythm of our lives together from as long as I can remember.

“Did you sleep well?” He pried, watching curiously as I munched down the toast. I rarely ate anything so quickly. I nod, knowing that talking with a mouth full of food would not be a good start to the day.

“Good.” He nods back, no longer looking at me but the air above me. “I think tonight’s ball will be a long one…” I just manage to stop myself from letting out a groan and instead settle for slouching just a little bit to show my disdain. “That reminds me, Mrs Hall suggested you go over to Hall manor to get ready for the ball with Celestria?” He said, though it sounded more like a question.

“Oh perfect! And I can tell her all about Rubion!” I smiled, trying not to let on to just how excited I truly was.

“I’m sure she already knows by now Bella.” He says rolling his eyes. “You know how news spreads among the houses.” He mentions nonchalantly, though there is a serious undertone to it. He was right of course. Rumours were like drugs in our community, intoxicating everyone with their addictive nature. But worse were the lies, that travelled through the houses, and then through all of aristocracy until they find their way to the tabloids and there is no way to stop them. My uncle always reminds me that through perfect teeth come lots of lies, all vibrations in the air, inconsequential to the medium through which they travel, but astronomical in the devastation they can wreak when they pass under the radar.

“When will I be going over?” I ask, careful not to convey any impatience in my tone.

“Once you finish your piano I see no reason why not.” He said, a small smirk on his face: a challenge. I scoff down my breakfast, hurrying to the music room, determined to finish as quickly as I could. The grand piano was moulded to the left of the room; all shiny and pitch black until I lift the fall to reveal the row of ivory keys. Along the rich wood that lines the top of each key, curling silver letters spell “Sterling”. I take my seat on the matching leather bench, that my uncle had studded with gemstones for me when I was young.

There are times when it feels as though music is teaching my brain how to flow, instead of my brain making the music flow; as if the slowly changing tone touches different parts like an auditory massage for my mind. As I begin to move my fingers over the keys, music fills the air, like the waves filling holes in the beach sand in Spain; the sound rushing in and around me almost playfully, despite the heavy classical melody. I can’t be sure how long I sit at the piano, repeating bars that weren’t perfect and perfecting those that were. It feels like hours and minutes at the same time. At some point, Alfred walks in, leaning his frail frame against the doorframe, as he takes in the music resonating from the instrument.

“I see you’re coming along nicely my dear.” He murmurs in praise. “You’re mother would be proud, she was quite the pianist herself.” It was these little tidbits of information, hints if you will, that gave me an image of my mother. I rarely asked about my parents, especially not my mother, because my uncle would rarely answer. Instead I wait for moments like this, when he offers up an insight, and take it gratefully.

I smile up at him. “Should I be leaving now?” I ask, knowing he wasn’t here to simply listen to my playing. He nods, smiling almost affectionately before leaving the room.

The Hall mansion is a physical representation of luxury, with cream white pillars surrounding a pristine fountain made of Swarovski crystals, that lead into a foyer detailed with 24 carat gold. Celestria’s mother meets me not a moment after I step in. At five foot six with a face cut right out of the pages of a men’s magazine, she has an air of elegance coupled with confidence.

Celestria follows her, grinning at the sight of me. She had stopped growing at five foot three inches, but what she lacked in height, she made up for in beauty. She had curly dirty blonde hair and dark taupe skin, with sharp grey eyes and defined cheekbones. If she hadn’t been born into the public eye, I’m sure she still would have found her way into it with looks like hers. Despite her ethereal looks, Celest had always been different to the other aristocratic little girls my uncle had introduced me to has a child. There was nothing “princessy” about her, like the other girls, just a fierce independence and a motherliness too.

“My my Bella, you’ve changed!” Mrs Hall coos, wrapping me in a careful embrace, before pecking my cheek. I move to hug Celest, squeezing her tight to my body in a quick attempt to make up for all the hugs we had missed while she was away.

“Go on then! How was Greece? You must tell me all about it while we’re getting ready.” I smile at the both of them.

“Oh I think Celestria has something far more exciting to share with you than that!” Mrs Hall smiles knowingly, before giving us a wink and running off, presumably to get ready herself.

“And what might that be?” I giggle as Celest pulls me up flights of red velvet stairs towards her room. She shuts the door forcefully, enclosing us in her picture perfect room. The bed frame is decorated with white lace while the mattress and pillows are covered in the finest red venetian silk. I waste no time getting comfortable, lying flat on my stomach, as she frets in front of me before deciding to thrust her hand in my face. On her finger was a simple yet elegant platinum band. It had three curved strands which appeared to be woven together, almost as if they had grown that way over time, with a large diamond in the centre that glittered in the light. She slips it off and hands it to me. I turn it over in my hand, and notice on the inside, a very delicate engraving in cursive: “To Celestria soon-to-be Dalton”.

“You’re joking!” I cry, tackling her in a hug as we squeal in the way that only teenage girls do.

The jewellery was to signify a bond, a pre-engagement of sorts, which meant that once you came of age you would wed. Fifteen might sound like a young age to lock in a bond, which in all honesty it is, but in our society it’s best to secure your partner as early as possible because there aren’t many suitable choices. I slip the ring back on her finger as we both gush about its beauty and missing each other and how it all happened.

I wasn’t bonded with anyone yet, though my uncle often complains to me about receiving lots of offers. Neither has Daemon, for which I find myself feeling thankful. The thought of him being bonded to someone just didn’t feel right. My attention was brought back to Celestria when she began getting up.

“We should start getting ready! I’ll help with your hair if you do my makeup?” She asks and I nod gratefully — makeup I could manage but hair had never been my strong suit.

CHAPTER 5

While Celestria started on wrangling her ringlets into thick, structured curls, I sit myself in the middle of the makeup vanity and take stock of what I have to work with. Mrs Lockington told me makeup was like my war paint. She said that in our world — a world of men in suits with lots of power and little sense — sexuality was an important weapon to master.

I tried to copy what she used to do when she got me ready for social events, as I painted both our faces, applying foundations, blush and contour with the detail of an artist and the precision of a scientist. Then Celest takes the reins, brushing through my blonde locks and pulling them into a dainty braided crown on my head. She then pushed Swarovski crystals shaped into snowflakes into the braids, causing them to glimmer in the vanity lights. By the time we had slipped into our dresses, it was time to leave for Wraith manor.

When we arrive in the ballroom, Mrs Wraith is the first to greet us. She waltzes towards us effortlessly, the clicking of her incredibly high heels adding its own rhythm to the classical music that resonated through the room. “Welcome, welcome, welcome.” She murmurs as she kisses Celest and I and hugs Mrs Hall.

“The place looks exquisite as always.” Mrs Hall remarks before leaving us with Mrs Wraith to join the ladies who had congregated on one side of the room.

I notice Daemon almost immediately after they leave, dressed in a crisp black suit that makes him appear almost golden. His eyes were scanning the room with determination in search of someone, and when his eyes meet mine he smiles; a smile so charming and pure that it was like snowflakes had decided to rest behind the soft cushion of his lips. I flash him a small smile back as Celest and I make our way towards him and the rest of our friends. I wrap Daemon in a hug and before he can plant a kiss on my cheek, two strong arms tackle me in a strong embrace — Thorne.

“Oi that’s my sister Wraith.” He scoffs as he squeezes me harder if possible. I peel him off me as laughter bubbles from my chest. His stark red curls had been gelled down to frame his pale freckled face, causing his ice blue eyes to stand out more than they usually did.

“I’ve missed you so much!” I cry before slapping him on the arm. “Don’t ever decline my FaceTime calls you prick!”

“I’m sorry I’m sorry! I won’t I promise.” He retreats, a small smile still on his lips. “I promise I’ll catch you up on everything.” He swears. “But first, when were you going to tell us about Rubion!” He frowned playfully.

“I didn’t need to tell you, you already knew!” I rolled my eyes, shoving him as I did so, admittedly harder than I intended. Orion laughed, nodding along in agreement.

“What is that tasteless dress Abbotsfield is wearing?” Celest suddenly growls, in an unladylike manner that would have appalled her mother. Sure enough Tiffany was at the other end of the room chatting up a boy who looked far too old for her in an almost transparent cocktail dress, with a neckline that ran down almost to her belly button.

“You should’ve seen Mrs Wraith’s reaction.” Orion chimes from his spot at Celest’s right hand.

“I’ve never seen Mother’s nose turned up so high.” Daemon remarks, keeping his eyes trained on me, almost as if he was… scared to look at her. Scared to disappoint me?

“Even I think it’s too vulgar.” Thorne adds. “And after Mother dragging me around every fashion show in Italy I thought I’d seen it all.” He laughs and we all join in, knowing Mrs Lockington was a sucker for a good fashion show. Suddenly I see Mrs Wraith walking towards us.

“Come now, you must get on the dance floor! It needs some new blood!” She cries, rolling her eyes.

Celest and Orion move off towards the centre immediately, their movements completely in sync with one another. I watch them dance for a moment, the way Orion looks down at Celest like she is the most beautiful creature in the world, and wonder if I will ever have that.

My mind is thrown from its course when Mrs Wraith pulls Daemon and I towards the floor. I giggle as Daemon groans at his mother’s antics and places one hand on my hip and the other on the small of my back. I fight the blush that threatens to spill over my cheeks at the small action and instead place my own on his shoulders, letting me transfer some of my weight onto him, to save my aching feet, at least a little bit. We dance with practiced ease, swaying to each other’s rhythms more than that of the music. I suppose it was practiced — after all we had been doing this together ever since we could dance.

“I forget to mention how beautiful you look tonight.” Daemon murmurs as I smile into his chest. “I especially like the snowflakes.” He grins as he lets his hand trace down my back.

“So it was worth the price?” I chuckle as he twirls me with a flourish only we know.

“I would pay any price for you,” He murmurs as he reels me back in. “you know that, don’t you?” I nod in agreement, letting my cheek rest against his chest. After continuing that way for a few more songs, I pull away. “Did I step on your foot again?” Daemon pouts, though I hear the hint of alarm.

“No of course not!” I laugh, as I step back towards him, if only to reassure him. “I wanted to go find my uncle, I haven’t seen him since I got here.” I confess, giving his hand a small squeeze. “I’ll be back.” I promise, rolling my eyes as he sticks his bottom lip out. He nods, seemingly pacified, and I leave for Alfred.

I find him sat at the head of a table in the Wraith’s dining room, surrounded by other older men clad in expensive looking suits. They were all talking in hushed tones, some even pointing towards there chests where I assume their loyalties were tattooed. I know because it’s where my uncle has a grand S inked into his skin — a symbol of the Sterling syndicate. We had been relatively quiet since my father’s death in a turf war, but were still one of the most powerful gangs in Europe, and the unofficial leaders of England’s crime groups. As I watch I suddenly feel a presence behind me.

“In a few years, that’ll be us.” Daemon whispers in a low voice, snaking his hand around my waist. I stiffen, not at the contact, but at his words. Unfortunately he interpreted it as the first, and immediately retracts his arm. I reach for his hand and interlace my fingers through it.

“But we’ll do it together, right?” I murmur, ashamed when it comes out more as a whimper.

“Forever.” He says far more confidently, though I can hear an undertone of fear in his voice. And understandably so. This life was not for the faint of heart, and we didn’t even choose it.

We return to the centre of the ballroom, continuing to dance and chat to various associates, until people finally begin filling out of the room just after midnight. I hug Celest and wave goodbye to the boys before following my uncle towards out car, knowing that the next time I would see them all, would most likely be at Rubion.