Atarah's Realm

Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR

A gulp of cold freshwater flushes away the heat that’s crippling my chest. My hands are still trembling as my jaw clenches. All the negative notions in my head are halted when Mr. Ward pats the glass desk in front of him. I lift my chin to meet his gaze. His eyebrow is raised forming fine lines on his forehead, his eyes don’t blink and are directed intensely towards mine as if waiting for me to say or do something but I remain quiet and still until he coughs, clearing his throat.

“We have already wasted seventeen minutes,” he says with a heavy accent while staring at his wristwatch. “Shall we proceed with our lesson for today? Or should we cancel it again…like you always do?”

His words are serene but sharp which intimidates me.

I try to ignore the thought of Elise being in the same place as me then set my shoulders back and sit properly with my legs crossed. “Let’s begin. Sorry about what happened. I shouldn’t have…”

“Great!” he interrupts.

Micah takes the glass of water from my hand and hands me a book before returning back to the rear wall where the other ladies are standing, watching over me.

The title of the book catches my attention, it says ‘The Etiquettes of Royalties’.

'This is confusing. Why do I have to learn this? Shouldn’t they taught this to me when I was younger?'

My focus shifts back to Mr. Ward when he taps his hand on his desk for the second time.

“Can you tell me what royal virtues have you known or at least heard?” he asks with a slight mocking tone.

My mouth parts but I close it again. Uncertainty mixes with confusion block any words that would like to come out so I shake my head instead, feeling deflated. I have watched movies and read books which revolve around princes and princesses before, I’m not just sure how authentic these stories are when it comes to royal ethics.

My eyebrows arch when he smirks. “To be honest, I’m surprised that you suddenly want to learn these things after all the years of refusal. Maybe the Prince of Kevel is that handsome that you’re willing to explore beyond your horizon.”

“Hold on! Who is this Prince of Kevel you’re talking about?”

My question causes his grin to disappear. He stares at me with wrinkled eyes and before he could say anything else, I lie with conviction. “Sorry, it slipped my mind but could you refresh my memory somehow?”

He gives me a stern look but doesn’t waste a time explaining it to me. “The prince will be crowned as the new king of Kevel if and only if he finds his bride.”

“So I’m his bride?”

“Not quite…but that’s the reason I’m here, to make sure that you’ll be chosen as his queen. Having said that, to be a queen, you have to act like one.”

“If I object?”

Mr. Ward slouches his shoulders and makes exaggerated hand gestures. “Is refusal the only thing you know? Listen. I understand that politics is the only thing that suits your interest but the possible union between Kevel and Sherva boils down to politics itself.”

“Uhm…it’s not that. It’s just…” The image of TL Adam abruptly appears in my memory but this thing that I want to express is caught in my throat.

‘Nobody would understand me anyways. I guess I’ll just have to go with the flow and see where it would lead me.’

I look at Mr. Ward with all seriousness. “Let’s proceed. What should I know?”

For the first time, he offers me a softer expression before sauntering towards me. “First, you need to sit properly. A royalty never sits with their legs crossed. Slant your legs to the side to make them look longer and make sure that your ankles and knees are kept together.”

I follow exactly what he says. My eyes are busy examining my legs which is awkward. I jolt when he grips my shoulders from behind and pulls them gently.

“Straighten your back,” he says then lifts my chin with his hand. “Chin up.” He puts my right hand over my left hand and lay them on my lap. “Perfect! That’s how you will sit the entire time especially when you’re in public’s presence.” He walks back near the edge of his desk then turns around to face me. He takes out a small timer from his pocket and puts it on the desk. “Now, let’s see how long you will last.”

“What?!”

“I won’t entertain anymore question, let’s begin.”

My body is numbing as if thousands of needles are pricking them all at once. The air-conditioning makes things even worse. Every single second feels like forever and whenever I attempt to distract myself by looking away from the timer, Mr. Ward will call me out. This is t*****e beyond I could ever imagine. I could feel my legs quivering but I maintain a deadpan expression, hoping he wouldn’t notice…but he does then he stops the timer.

“For your first try, your record is twenty-two minutes. Not bad,” he says, clapping his hands.

A splash of relief trigger me to slacken my posture. “Thank you!”

“Now, I expect you to do better than twenty-two minutes.”

I shut my eyes close when his thumb presses the timer before placing it back on the desk. Since complaining is not an option, I do what I did earlier – sit like a royalty.

This goes on for a couple of hours. Yes! A couple of hours until Mr. Ward feels satisfied of seeing me in an uncomfortable position. As much as I’m hurting physically, I don’t want to show him I’m weak – I don’t wanna fail this mission! I have to go back where I belong! That, I promise.

When the words ‘five minute break’ slide between his lips, I waste no time in standing up and doing some stretching. A moment later, the door screeches open. More ladies in uniforms with clay pots on their hands enter the room. They lay the pots on the long drawers near the window then some of them clears the chairs and the desks away while the others unroll and stick a red tape on the granite floor. The tape stretches from the rear wall to the front wall at the center of the room. My eyes crinkle while my brain makes an effort to figure out what the hell is going on.

Five minutes has gone by unnoticed. Mr. Ward asks me to stand on one end of the tape while everybody else move away from where the red tape is attached. I have no idea what’s gonna happen next, but anxiety is braiding with every fiber on my body.

“This is the next and final exercise for today,” says Mr. Ward. “It’s time for you to learn how to walk like a royalty. The rules are simple. Walk straight. Follow the red tape without looking at it.”

I bob my head as a response.

“Oh! And one more thing.” He walks to the drawer and takes one of the clay pots then walks towards me and puts the clay pot above my head. “You have to walk with this.” His tone manifests excitement which irritates me.

“How am I gonna walk with this?” I ask while holding the pot on my head.

“Watch. I’ll show you,” he whispers.

I give the pot back to him and move to the side as he stands at one end of the tape with poise. He puts the pot on his head, takes his hands off it, straightens his posture then walks with grace. My jaw loosens every single step he takes until he reaches the other end of the tape effortlessly. He looks at me and smirks before walking back to the other end where he begun. Everyone gushes except me.

Mr. Ward removes the pot on his head and extends it to me. “It’s your turn, princess.”

I hesitantly take it from him and shakenly place it on my head. I couldn’t distance my hand from it, knowing if I do, the pot will fall and break.

“Stand up straight!” Mr. Ward shouts.

I lower down my hands slowly and steadily. A tiny joy crops up when my hands successfully reach my hips but the pot is quite heavy so I twitch my neck a little and bang! Everyone jerks when the pot hits the floor and splinters into pieces. Some of the ladies quickly brush the sharp fragments to the side with mops. My eyes couldn’t meet Mr. Ward’s gaze but I could sense him walking towards me with another pot on his hands.

“Relax. Breathe.”

I inhale a good amount of air, hold it for a few seconds and noisily exhale it.

“Stand up straight.”

I set my shoulders back, raise my chin and relax my arms and my legs.

“Here we go.”

Mr. Ward puts the pot on my head and takes a couple of steps back away from me. I cannot believe that my heart beat so fast just because of a pot. The loud thuds it’s making inside my chest trigger the diminishing confidence In me to completely disappear. I sluggishly lift a foot then take a small step forward. The pot doesn’t fall which causes the corners of my lips to curve up.

“There’s nothing to celebrate if I were you,” says Mr. Ward. “Your goal is to walk with elegance.”

'Easy for him to say.'

The instance I attempt to walk, my usual walk, which isn’t elegant but not bad either, the pot slides down from my head and shatters to the floor. This is the scene that’s repeatedly seen by Mr. Ward and the ladies in uniforms for hours. After several attempts, my body gives up.

“Can we do this tomorrow, please? I really can’t do this anymore.”

Mr. Ward, though has an annoying facial expression, offers his hand to me. Without a second thought, I grab it and lean some of my weight to him which causes him to almost lose his balance.

“Sorry.”

He tilts his head, accepting my apology.

While walking at the corridor, the lights on the ceiling flicker a green shade then a voice from loudspeakers that are installed across the wall echos.

“Attention! The King and Queen of Sherva have arrived! The King and Queen of Sherva have arrived!”