"Prince Amir, you are welcomed to Sorvinka."
I rose. "Thank you, Your Majesty."
King Erik extended a hand toward his entourage. "You know my eldest daughter, Eva, and you've already met my nephew, Lars, Duke of Kasaniov. Now let me introduce you to my other daughters. I'll begin with Thalia."
The young lady in a pink dress rose from her seat and curtsied. She was perhaps a year younger than Eva and, despite her excess weight, almost as pretty. Princesses Olga and Mesa, adorable twelve-year-old twins with dimpled cheeks, were introduced next. They wore identical dresses of pale yellow taffeta. Ribbons of the same color were woven through their brown braids. They were the only members of this family who were not blond. The twin princesses stepped down from the dais and curtsied in front of me, then, giggling madly, quickly ran back up.
"Your Majesty, I come bearing gifts, small tokens of my gratitude for receiving me here. Four of our best Telfarian horses."
The king's left eyebrow rose. "Four horses! How generous of you!"
The sarcasm weighing the king's words was so flagrant that it raised murmurs of concern throughout the assembly of nobles.
I nervously wet my lips before speaking. "We left Telfar with twenty. Thieves took some . . . and, unfortunately, most of the others perished along the way."
"Ah!" The king nodded. "From my experience, warm climate creatures don't fair too well in our cold weather. They either die or run away. I'm afraid this will happen again." The king sounded sure of this, and by the dismissive look he was giving me, I suspected that his remark was about me and not my horses.
"These will not leave, Your Majesty. They are well-mannered, loyal companions. They will stay put. You have my word on this. They won't run away." And neither will I, I thought.
The king smiled. The gesture brought some warmth to his otherwise cold expression. "Please go on, Prince Amir. I'm assuming . . . and also hoping that there are more gifts to come."
The court laughed at the king's good word. Almost instantly the atmosphere in the throne room lightened, and with it some of the tension gripping my chest relaxed a little too. My breathing became easier. I gestured for Milo to advance. He immediately joined me carrying a silver platter. On it were five gold boxes, each one decorated with different colored gems.
"These are for your daughters, the princesses." I took the first box. Rubies formed a rose pattern on its top. "This one is for Princess Eva."
I opened the box. Nestled on a white satin pillow inside the box was a magnificent ruby necklace. To my surprise, Eva rose from her seat and came to fetch her present herself. In Telfar, a valet or a page would have brought it to her. Then again, I wasn't in Telfar.
"It is spectacular," Eva told the assembly.
A hush of approval echoed from the crowd.
"Thank you. This truly is a royal gift, Prince Amir." Her eyes met mine. "You're doing well," she whispered before returning to her seat. It was only then that I saw Thalia standing beside me with her hands clutched under her round chin and her eyes sparkling with impatience.
"Princess Thalia, this one is yours," I said, offering her the box decorated in a sapphire forget-me-not. When I opened the box she let out a shriek of joy so piercing it damn well startled me.
"Heee! Sapphire earrings!"
"Actually, Princess Thalia, these are blue diamonds. They are much rarer than sapphires." I hadn't finished my sentence, yet the twin princesses, Olga and Mesa, were pushing Thalia aside and demanding to receive their gifts. Their effrontery made the entire court laugh. Regardless of their evident disregard toward etiquette, I found these princesses delightful and would've liked to kiss their cheeks for having brought this mirthful interlude to this otherwise nerve-wracking ceremony. But instead I hurried to give them their gifts. Olga received the emerald shamrock box containing a diamond bracelet and Mesa the diamond daisy box with its emerald brooch. As the contented twins returned to their seat, the room became dreadfully silent.
I glanced at the royal family. All joy had left their faces. The king's stare was heavy with sorrow. Why this sudden gloom, I wondered. Seeking an answer amid the crowd, I saw that all eyes were fixed on the last box, decorated with pearl snowdrops, resting on Milo's platter. This was Princess Aurora's gift . . . and also a painful reminder of her absence. How could I have made such a stupid mistake? And how could I fix it? At that instant, my nerves got the best of me and my mind went blank. I didn't know what to do. I froze.
A spot of red amid the crowd captured my attention. I recognized Prince Diego's companion, the kind lady who had smiled at me before. She was gesturing for me to continue, and so was Prince Diego at her side.
Filling my lungs in one long breath, I faced the royal family. "Your Majesty, this box will be added to the other gifts I brought for the queen: bails of fine linen, rolls of silk, rich damask, and silverware of all kinds. A detailed list of it has been made for you."
Milo handed me a roll of velum, which I placed beside the box.
I looked at Milo.
"It's ready, my lord," he murmured, through scarcely moving lips.
I nodded. "I also brought some exotic goods from my homeland." I clapped my hands once.
Four servants, each carrying a silver casket, made their way to the front of the dais and lined themselves up next to me.
I opened the first casket. "Dates, a delicacy from Telfar."
"WHOO!" went the crowd.
I moved to the second casket. "Figs!"
"AWWW!" gave the crowd.
I flipped open the third one. "Spices," I said, lifting one of the many bottles filling the casket.
Loud cheers rose from the crowd.
I approached the fourth and last casket. "This one holds a special treat for His Majesty—ALMONDS!"
The crowd gasped in horror.
Appalled, the king leapt to his feet and roared, "How dare you bring these despicable things into my castle!"
"I . . . it's . . . they're just almonds—nuts."
"NUTS! They are far worse than that!"
"But . . . but, I was told that those were your favorite. Honestly, I cannot see what harm almonds can do."
The king's face became a twisted mask of anger while scandalized mutterings arose from the assembly. In panic, I searched the crowd for Prince Diego and his lady friend and found them staring at me with genuine concern. Their faces couldn't be any paler, I thought. I watched the lady place a hand on her lips and bow her head. Yes, my dear, you're right. I sighed. I knew what I had to do.
Bowing low to the king, I said, "Your Majesty, I apologize for my ignorance. Perhaps if you enlighten me I may come to understand the root of my mistake."
After a period of hesitation, spent staring at me as if I were a scorpion, the king sat back down on his throne and said, "Almonds have been banned from this court, castle, and surrounding villages since someone attempted to poison me with an almond cake. Almond's smell and taste can conceal certain poisons."
I nodded. "Cassava root extract."
"Yes. I believe this was the poison used in the attempt against my life. That day, I was saved from certain death by an ill-mannered hound. Good old Boris snatched the poisoned cake from my plate before I could take a fatal bite. Since then my taste for these nuts has waned."
Lars stepped forward. "Uncle, I will supervise the destruction of these treacherous gifts. The castle will be cleansed of their threat; you have my word on this."
My eyes widened in disbelief. Destroy my gifts! Surely he won't do such a thing—I must have misunderstood.
The king made a slight nod. "I trust you to see to it, nephew."
I clenched my teeth hard. Of course, he's doing it; he's nothing but a savage with a title. Even though I was boiling with anger, I told myself to hold my tongue. But when Lars motioned for all the servants to withdraw from the room, I had to speak. "Your Majesty, only the nuts offend you. The spices and fruits cannot cause you any harm."
"They were stored near the nuts,
weren't they," grumbled the king.
"I'm afraid so." I glared at Lars. He stared back at me with a small smile of satisfaction. Oh how I wished I could have wiped the smirk off his face, with my fists preferably. Clearly, Lars was overjoyed by my mistake, and even more by the business of burning my precious gifts. With rancor, I watched him leave the court.
An awkward silence followed Lars's departure. Gathering my courage, I managed to blurt out, "I have a few more gifts for His Majesty."
The king did not respond, which I didn't see as a good omen. So it was with much apprehension that I clapped my hands again. Servants made their way to the front of the court. The two in front carried a rolled-up rug while the third one held a tall obelisk-shaped object covered by a red silk shawl.
"I had these commissioned especially for you, Your Majesty." On my sign, the servants unrolled the rug, revealing that it was in fact the skin of a giant brown bear. Not a peep was uttered by the crowd.
Paying no attention to this unusual silence, I moved to the tall obelisk and pulled on the silk covering unveiling a black eagle in a gold cage. Filled with the hope that I'd redeemed myself, I faced the king. My heart sank. In my opinion, King Erik couldn't have looked more shocked if I had walked up to him and sat in his lap. I turned my eyes to his daughters. The princesses were staring at me with their mouths agape. I peeked at the crowd. Prince Diego was shaking his head in consternation. His lovely companion, for her part, looked positively stunned.
Oh, what have I done, crossed my mind as I turned toward the king.
Squeezing the throne armrests with white-knuckled hands, the king leaned forward and bored his icy blue eyes into mine, raising goose bumps all over my body. "Prince Amir, as if bringing those poisonous almonds to my keep, for me to ingest presumably, wasn't enough, you had the affront to kill a brown bear, the Sorvinkian symbol of power, and then had this noble animal made into a rug for everyone to wipe their boots on. Worse yet, you caged the black eagle, our imperial emblem, like a vulgar songbird." As the outrage in the king's voice increased, I felt myself shrinking. "What is the message you want us to read in this appalling display? That Sorvinka will be laid flat like a rug?" he spat. "That our dynasty will be rendered as helpless as a caged bird? Young man, are you in league with Farrell?"
"I—NO! Your Majesty, there is no ulterior motive or meaning behind these gifts, I assure you."
"No meaning!" said the king. "Besides being insulting you mean." He shook his head. "And how many more insults shall I bear from you, young man?"
"Er . . . I have no more gifts, Your Majesty."
"Well, that's a blessing!"
I stayed mute. It was safer; also I didn't want to lie to the king again, as I had just done. There were plenty more gifts. However, at this point, I dared not present them to him for fear of making more mistakes. And by the devastated expression on Eva's face, I couldn't afford to make more, if I wanted to marry her. I certainly won't win her hand with these gifts.
* * *
Later that evening, the entire court moved to an adjacent banquet hall where two long tables awaited us. Seated a short distance from the king and his daughters, I tried to concentrate my attention on my placing and not on Lars sitting across from me. He had been watching me all evening. Waiting for some wrong move on my part, I suppose. Well, from now on, I intended to be careful and not make any mistake. The last thing I wanted was to give Lars satisfaction. But to be honest, I thought it regrettable that our first meeting had begun on the wrong foot and that a profound dislike was already growing between us. We hardly knew each other. We didn't have to be enemies. There was no reason for this. We could still be friendly or, at the very least, be civil toward one another.
Determined to prove myself good company, I looked up at Lars. I found him with his finger knuckle-deep in his nose. Charming! I thought, trying not to look too disgusted by his flagrant absence of manners. Lars—civil, what was I thinking? I doubted he even knew the meaning of the word. Like good manners and regular bathing, civility and courtesy were foreign concepts here. With this grim notion in mind, I watched a procession of servants enter the dining room. Moments later, they began serving us the first course.
As the smell of food hit my nose, I realized I was starving. That surprised me. After the gift ceremony fiasco, and Lars's disgusting display, I didn't expect to have any appetite at all. Then again, I hadn't eaten all day.
A servant set a white porcelain bowl in front of me. It was brimming with a thick red soup with a spot of cream floating in the middle. I didn't question if I should wait for the service to be completed to begin eating. The slurping sounds rising all around me meant I could safely go ahead. I took a spoonful of the mixture expecting some warm, exotic, savory broth to hit my tongue. No such luck. It was cold, viscous, and vile. My first impulse was to spit it right out. I fought back the urge and managed to swallow the horrid brew without gagging. I then slowly laid my spoon back on the table. When I looked up I found Lars staring at me again.
"Why won't you eat? You don't like it? Are you going to insult our traditional meal too?"
"Certainly not!" I seized my spoon again and smiled at Lars. For a moment, I wrestled with the idea of stabbing him in the eye with it. But as tempting as it was, and it was very tempting, I knew I had to contain myself. "This dish is new to me. What is it?"
"Borscht. Cold beet soup with sour cream."
"Ah," I said before shoveling a spoonful of borscht into my mouth. Lars watched me eat the soup like a fox would watch a cornered chicken. However, with every spoonful I took I could see his glee diminishing; obviously he had expected me to retch. His expression then lightened, and a smirk curled his lips. This sudden change in attitude made me nervous.
"Try the bread. It's good." He grabbed a round loaf of bread and threw it across the table. The loaf struck the side of my bowl, toppling its remaining contents all over my white kaftan.
"Lars!" Eva snapped. "Why are you so detestable? Apologize to Amir!"
"Sorry," he said in a flat tone.
Meanwhile servants had rushed to my side and were attempting to clean the red soup off my clothes.
"Oh, Prince Amir," Princess Thalia lamented. "It won't wash off. I know it. I have ruined many dresses the same way."
She was right. The stain was huge and too dark, it would never go away. My outfit was ruined. Yet I smiled as if it mattered not.
"Arr," grumbled the king around a mouthful of bread. "What a fuss over a spot. Men shouldn't wear white anyway."
"Father!" Eva's cheeks were red with embarrassment. "Amir usually doesn't wear such elaborate clothes. He favors much more practical outfits."
The king didn't reply. He just went on chewing.
"Please, don't worry. Your father is right. White is a difficult color to wear. I think I'll have the entire ensemble dyed red."
"That's a brilliant idea!" said Thalia.
I nodded enthusiastically. Deep down, I was fuming. I hated the color red. But not as much as I hated Lars. My only consolation was that now I didn't have to eat cold soup anymore.
While waiting for the second course to be served, I studied the other guests at my table. Prince Diego was seated next to Thalia. The plump princess had eyes only for him and kept giggling, talking, and blushing, while leaning heavily on his arm. She was enamored with him, that was obvious. It was also sad; because the long-haired prince made no effort to hide his lack of interest toward her—his rolling of eyes and heavy sighing were good indications of his feeling. Still, it failed to cool her ardor. Thalia began a long, unfocused and somewhat confusing story about a lost knitting needle. The look on the dandy's face turned from pure misery to utter agony.
Tired of that story myself, I scanned the length of the table. On my left sat an obscenely fat nobleman from Arguta dressed in an overly stretched-out blue silk suit. Then there was a group of stern-looking Minalians in dark gray coats, followed by several courtesans in bright-colored dresses. Some of those courtesans
wore strange bouffant hairdos with feathers jutting out of it, while others had tall, pointy headdresses that rose up in the air like mountain peaks. And beyond this colorful group, at the far end of the table, I spotted the two barbarian warriors. Once more the woman stared back at me in a most peculiar way. It made me uncomfortable, and I looked away.
Directing my gaze to Eva, I found her looking at me with a sad little pout. She made subtle gestures, indicating that I should speak to the king, make conversation. I dared not try that again and shook my head.
"Something wrong, Prince Amir?" the king asked. "You seem agitated."
I felt my cheeks burning. "No—not at all."
At that very instant I knew without actually having to look for myself that everyone in the banquet hall was staring at me. I supposed they were all expecting me to say something inappropriate, again. I needed a safe subject of conversation. So I chose to talk about my brother, Sultan Keri, to speak of our time together and praise his merits; after all, he was the king's nephew. (Actually, Keri, or Erik as I called him, was the king's secret son.) To my relief, my account of our adventures and of my brother's subsequent ascension to the throne of Telfar captivated the entire assembly. For once, the king seemed pleased with me, and genuinely interested in what I was saying. Eva was beaming with joy. Her sisters, their eyes twinkling with excitement, were hanging on my every word. Even Prince Diego, who until now had appeared bored, was engrossed by my tale. Only Lars displayed a grim expression.
"This nephew of mine sounds like a fine young man," the king said, raising his goblet of wine.
"My brother is an exceptional individual."
The King's Daughters Page 4