Achan steeled himself and offered his arm to Mandzee, because she was older and Sir Gavin had taught him that was proper. Mandzee smiled and accepted his arm. Achan offered Jaira his other arm. She blinked her dark eyes slowly, then slid her fingers around his bicep.
He swallowed his angst and followed Lord Eli through a set of glass double doors into a narrow room, hoping he didn't trip on the gowns trailing alongside his boots.
Talking with Sparrow had lightened his mood a great deal.
A long table draped with white linen was set for twelve-five on each side and one on each end-with gold goblets, matching trenchers, bouquets of silk irises, and purple linen napkins. Two large candelabras hung from the ceiling. A painting of Lord Eli and Lady Katiolakan covered the right wall. Another set of double doors divided the left wall. A life-sized statue of Lord Eli stood behind the head of the table.
Lord Eli helped his wife sit at the end of the table and settled Queen Hamartano to her right. He moved to the head of the table and stood behind the chair, his own statue looming behind him like a shadow.
"My servants have set nameplates at the table," Lord Eli said. "Please take a moment to find your seat."
Achan released the ladies' arms. "Princess Mandzee Hamartano" was painted in purple ink on the small, white marble scroll to Lady Katiolakan's left. Next came Sir Gavin's name, Sir Caleb's, then Jaira's.
"Your Highness." Jaira stood before her nameplate. "Look, you're here beside me."
Heat coursed through Achan at the sound of her voice addressing him in such a way. Sir Caleb's hand on his back prodded him down the left side of the table. "Prince Gidon Hadar" painted in purple script marked his place to the right of Lord Eli and the left of Princess Jaira. Of course he'd be seated beside the host. Where else?
Sparrow stood dead center on the opposite side of the table. Good. At least Achan could make private jokes with his friend. He might not survive this evening without them.
Achan pulled out his chair and sat, ignoring Sir Caleb's glare, not caring whether decorum dictated he should wait until the women sat or pull out their chairs and fawn over them with flowery compliments. They could seat themselves.
A thin woman with sallow skin took the seat across from him. She wore a blood-red velvet robe over a black gown that bunched around her neck and up to her chin. Her gaunt face paled next to such vivid colors. Her cheeks caved in like she was sucking a lemon and her bloodshot eyes bulged in deep sockets ringed with dark circles.
A priest of Avenis with a stiff, ivory teardrop hat took the seat beside her. He wore an ivory robe with thick, rolled cuffs. At least ten gold chains in various girths and lengths hung around his fat neck. One long brown eyebrow stretched across his wide, flat forehead like a caterpillar. His eyes were small and fixed on Achan.
It had been days of dried meat and figs, and prison gruel for weeks before that, except for Sparrow's apples. His stomach growled at the idea of fresh, hot food.
Sir Caleb helped seat Jaira to Achan's left. Her spicy smell snaked up his nose, making his eyes water. She scooted closer to the table and her arm touched his. He froze a moment, then casually leaned away, reaching for his nameplate with his right hand. He pretended to examine it a moment, then put it back, careful to shift his weight so he no longer touched Jaira.
A tall and muscular, olive-skinned eunuch with a shaved head entered the room carrying a lidded basket. His eyes were outlined in black, similar to Jaira's. A maroon skirt fell to his sandaled feet, held in place by leather straps that crisscrossed over his bare chest and supported a sword at his waist as well. Achan recalled Jaelport employed eunuchs like slaves. This man must work for the Hamartano family. A shield, perhaps?
The eunuch stopped between Sir Caleb and Jaira and held the basket aloft.
"Finally, Larkos," Jaira said to the eunuch. She lifted the lid, and her tiny, hairless dog scuttled out of the basket and curled in a ball on her lap, tail wagging. Charcoal skin stretched over the dog's bony frame. Its huge ears reminded Achan of a bat.
Larkos backed against the double doors behind Jaira. The priest still stared at Achan from across the table, unfazed by the eunuch and bat-dog. Achan met Sparrow's curious gaze and said, Having fun?
Your discomfort is quite entertaining, yes.
Happy to help.
Do you like your seat?
Oh, I dream of torturous moments like these. Do you think it would be rude if I asked Lord Eli to open the doors to get a bit of a draft? If I don't get some fresh air, I may black out from the smell of the princess.
I do not think they have fresh air in Darkness.
Can't you smell her?
It is a bit strong.
What is it?
My guess would be a tropical lotion. Do you like the flakes of gold?
Gold? On her skin?
She sparkles for you.
Seems a waste of gold.
A piercing giggle rang out from Lady Katiolakan at the end of the table. Sparrow winced. Jaelportians have always been brazenly flamboyant.
Achan raised an eyebrow. Well, you've got the brazen part right. She may as well be naked. I've never been so uncomfortable in all my-
"Your Highness," Lord Eli gestured toward the snowball of a priest, "may I present my chief priest, Pontiff Latmus. And this is my advisor, Seer Rheala." Lord Eli laid a hand on the gaunt woman's shoulder.
Achan nodded once for both.
Pontiff Latmus spoke in a low, hoarse voice. "I would be honored, my prince, to show you Avenis's temple after dinner. I am sure the mighty Avenis understands your perilous journey, but to avoid him any longer is a risk you cannot afford, in my estimation."
Jaira set her gloved hand on Achan's arm. "Oh, yes, you must. It's the most beautiful temple I've seen. And Pontiff Latmus has displayed the offerings so you can see everything."
The doors to the dining room swung inward, and a long line of servants entered carrying heaping trays. A rich, meaty smell diluted Jaira's aroma.
"We shall try to make time," Sir Caleb said. Then silently to Achan, Do not eat until Lord Eli bids you start. Most hosts serve their guest of honor first. I know not what to expect from Lord Eli.
A servant leaned past Lord Eli and set a tray between Achan and Seer Rheala's trenchers. It held a roasted bird sitting in a pile of garlic cloves and apricots. Another servant placed a tureen of dark gravy sprinkled with saffron beside it. There were also bowls of flaky whitefish with wedges of lime; pickled beets; tiny, red potatoes; a basket of dark, long loaves of bread; and a tureen of soupy corn.
Lord Eli reached forward and ripped a leg off the bird. He dunked it in the tureen of gravy and dropped it on Achan's trencher. "Do you play dice, Your Highness?"
"Some." But only with Gren or Noam. Most people had refused since it was considered bad luck to consort with strays.
"Do you eat fish, Your Highness?"
"I do." Achan could finish the whole platter himself.
"All our food is imported from Allowntown and Mahanaim." Lord Eli cut a large portion of the fish and slid it onto Achan's trencher. "It is tradition, you know, for the host to serve his most honored guest. For you, Your Highness, I will do the slave's job." He piled two scoops of potatoes next to the fish, then ripped an end off a loaf of bread and set that on top of Achan's pile of food. Lord Eli snapped his fingers, and a servant poured wine into Achan's goblet.
"Your sacrifice is noted." Achan glanced at Sir Caleb. That's about what I might expect.
Seer Rheala and Pontiff Latmus began to fill their plates. Lord Eli filled his own. Achan took a deep breath and let the meaty smell soak into him. Should he eat? He doubted Lord Eli's crowd prayed to Arman. Might they thank Avenis?
But Lord Eli simply started eating, so Achan followed suit.
He bit into the leg first, for he had never been given such a large serving-never tasted warm meat. It was juicy and rich, the gravy salty. An unintentional moan escaped. He lowered his eyes, hoping no one heard. He put down the
leg and popped one of the little potatoes into his mouth next. His teeth pierced the skin and the warm center mashed in his mouth. The flavor was bland after the fowl. He pinched off a bite of fish. It tasted tart and peppery. He shoved another bite into his mouth and savored the flavor on his tongue.
His first meal as royalty. He circled his plate, alternating between all the different foods.
A small squeak, like a mouse, turned his head. Jaira stared at him, tiny jeweled knife in her dainty fingers. She smiled with all the warmth of a jackal.
A quick glance around the table and Achan saw everyone-except him-was eating with tiny knives and dainty utensils. Even Sparrow. Achan frowned.
"Seer Rheala, tell the prince what your stones said of his visit."
The seer's voice croaked lower than the pontiff's. "I have seen an alliance in the south under a single leader. And I have seen riches, prosperity, and beauty for Mirrorstone."
"Do you see Light?" Achan asked.
Silence fell over the table. Every face turned at him.
"We must not put our hope in the fables of a man who can push back Darkness," Pontiff Latmus said. "We must be practical and heed the warnings of the gods. Seer Rheala has predicted much prosperity. You can choose to be a part of that, or you can choose to go your own way."
"You speak wisely, Pontiff," Lord Eli said. "Seer Rheala, tell our young prince what you see in the north."
"Death."
Achan cringed, not buying a word this woman was peddling.
"I am glad you've come to Mirrorstone, Your Highness," Lord Eli said. "King Esek is overbearing and ignorant of the ways of the gods. Stay with us and we will raise an army to march against King Esek, take Armonguard, and unite Nahar, Cela, and Arman duchies."
If Lord Eli wanted to convince Achan of his support, why continue to call Esek king?
"And what of Barth?" Inko asked. "Would they be supporting this campaign?"
Lord Eli waved his hand. "Barth supports itself."
"Do you get on well with Lord Falkson?" Sir Caleb asked.
Lord Eli's face tinged pink. "He and I have had our quarrels, as have many neighboring strongholds, but they no longer concern me. Seer Rheala predicted a mutual alliance with Barth long before Kati and I were wed. Ever since, Barth and Mirrorstone have gotten on fine."
Achan bit into his apricot and found the fruit warm, sweet, and juicy.
"Your Highness, have you fought much with the short-sword and shield since you defeated my brother?" Jaira asked.
Achan nearly choked on his fruit. He stiffened, searching for the perfect response. "Only the sword, my lady. I had the pleasure of a second encounter with your brother and some of his companions."
Jaira fed a chunk of meat to her dog. "And did you defeat him a second time?"
"Not as easily. He's a…cunning opponent." Who'd almost killed him.
"Was he responsible for the wounds on your face?"
Achan's cheeks warmed. "No, my lady."
Jaira smiled in such a way that Achan shivered. Her hatred poured into his senses like hot water in a bath. Still, she sat smiling, crafting friendly, almost flirtatious, comments. Why? Perhaps her mother had put her up to it. Regardless, he wouldn't be able to stomach this game much longer.
He glanced at Sparrow. I think I'm going to be ill.
Sparrow gave him a dopey smile. But you look lovely together.
You do realize we'll be practicing swords again soon, and when we do, you'll pay for your delight at my expense.
Sparrow snickered out loud, garnering a raised eyebrow from the pontiff.
Achan supposed this was fun for the boy. The lad had seen him beaten to humiliation, imprisoned in a dungeon, had nursed his wounds, and now Achan was the Crown Prince. It was the most outlandish tale. Had the situation been reversed, Achan would've enjoyed poking fun at Sparrow.
The servants filed in again. One whisked away Achan's trencher and replaced it with a silver bowl of berries floating in fluffy cream.
"Is that the Hadar signet ring you wear, Your Highness?"
Achan glanced at the gold ring on his left middle finger. The letters OAH were engraved in the imprint of a castle. "It is Prince Oren's."
"I imagine King Esek has your father's ring, then?"
Did he? And why did Lord Eli insist on calling Esek king? "I imagine he does."
"Pity." Lord Eli scooped cream onto his finger and licked it off. "Have you ever played one hundred, Your Highness?"
"I haven't."
"It is the simplest of dice games." Lord Eli raised his voice. "I have hidden a surprise in the dessert that will dictate your companions for the evening. Chew carefully."
Achan took a bite of berries; the sweetness distracted him from his surroundings entirely. He'd never tasted anything so wonderful. It was even better than Poril's ginger cake. He inhaled the dish until his teeth bit down on something hard and cold. He spit a plain gold ring into his fingers.
Lady Katiolakan shrieked and clapped her hands from the end of the table. "How wonderful this is being."
Lord Eli beamed. "Ah! His Highness found the gold band. How fitting. The gods are playing matchmaker, I suspect."
Achan turned to see Jaira licking the cream off an identical gold ring. He frowned at Sparrow.
The boy shrugged. You are being positioned. First the matching ensembles, now matching rings. Do you like your intended?
Achan's lips parted. How could he have missed the coordinating colors of their clothes? Well, you match us as well, Sparrow. What say we trade? I'll be squire.
Oh no, I shall not interfere with your special time with the princess.
Jaira's dog lapped the remaining cream from Achan's bowl. Achan stifled a growl. Is there any poison on the table?
For you or the dog?
Both.
10
The sitting room, like the dining room, was long and narrow. A fire crackled in an ornate marble fireplace that filled the back wall, heating the room to a sweltering state. Two small, square tables, each seating four, sat in the middle of the room. Fat candles burned in bronze sconces along the walls. A narrow door, likely for servants, was wedged beside the fireplace and the far corner.
Sparrow stood with Sir Caleb by the entrance. Mandzee and her mother sat at the table closer to the door with the pontiff and Seer Rheala. Sir Gavin and Inko never came in. It appeared they wouldn't be playing.
Lord Eli waved Achan and Jaira to sit with him and his wife at the table by the fireplace.
Achan tensed and glanced at Sir Caleb. Must I?
Sparrow looked away, fighting a smile.
Sir Caleb raised his brows. The longer you stand gaping, the ruder you become. Whether Jaira is the love of your heart or Gazar's spawn, Lord Eli is host and you have drawn matching tokens. Now, offer your arm before you garner the name Graceless Gidon.
Esek has given the name Gidon enough shame. I doubt I could make things worse.
Take. Her. Arm. Go, Sir Caleb said. Be charming and witty. Play games. Enjoy yourself, if you can. And if you cannot, pretend, for the sake of your father.
You aren't playing?
Our time would be better spent gathering supplies.
Achan set his jaw. But I want to help.
You are helping, Your Highness. You make our host happy by letting him entertain you. When the host is happy, he shares horses and supplies. Be a charming fellow, now.
Achan stared at the sconce behind Jaira as he spoke, unable to stomach eye contact. "If you're willing, my lady?"
Jaira accepted his arm, nose in the air. "It would be my pleasure."
Sure it would. Achan steered her to the table beside the fire. Her hatred flowed into him, adding to his foul mood. Her spicy smell turned his overfull stomach.
Sir Caleb, if she hates me so much, why does she pretend?
It's likely her mother's wish. Play along. We'll be halfway to Melas before she's eaten her breakfast tomorrow. Should you need us, call. Vrell will be our eyes.
Achan stifled a groan and sat down opposite Jaira.
Larkos, Jaira's eunuch, stood against the wall, two paces to Jaira's right. Achan shot a quick peek at Sparrow, the boy who could barely hold a sword. So, if anything should go amiss, it was the scrawny boy against the muscle-bound eunuch. This didn't ease Achan's discomfort. He'd left Eagan's Elk in his chamber.
Lord Eli slapped a set of ivory dice on the table. "We each roll once, then pass the dice. The first team to reach exactly one hundred wins. You go first, Your Highness."
Achan rolled the dice. A six and a four. "Ten."
"Well done." Lord Eli nodded to his wife, who had parchment and quill. She scratched out ten hash marks.
The game went on. Achan and Jaira quickly made it to a score of ninety-seven, but they were unable to roll a three. Lord Eli and his wife took what felt like an eternity to reach eighty-eight. Then Lady Katiolakan rolled two sixes.
She giggled and threw up her hands. "What shocking a surprise that was being."
Lord Eli squeezed Achan's shoulder. "So close, Your Highness. I thought you'd beaten us for sure. Shall we play again?"
Achan shrugged. "If you like."
And so they played.
Queen Hamartano and Mandzee soon excused themselves for the evening, taking Jaira's bat-dog with them. The pontiff and Seer Rheala watched a few of Lord Eli and Achan's games, then they too retired. Achan hoped this was a sign he'd soon be excused to that massive featherbed he couldn't wait to try.
But Lord Eli ordered more wine and drank through two bottles himself. Achan slowly sipped one goblet. He'd never been permitted wine before but had seen what it could do to a man. Achan wasn't about to risk his sanity with this company, even for the pleasant tingle the drink left between his ears.
Lord Eli's behavior only solidified Achan's discretion. Before long, the young lord could barely keep his dice on the table when he rolled. When one struck Jaira's ear, Lady Katiolakan stood.
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