“Are you crazy?” one guide blurted out as all the members of the tour group looked on in astonishment, then gasped. “Forgive me my lord.”
“Perhaps we could let them eat one last live person,” Kestrel said ominously.
“Majesty, perhaps we better go on with the scheduled tour,” another guide said nervously.
Kestrel let himself be led out of the greenhouse among the silent group, and as they started walking, the guides spread out and began whispering among themselves. It was an ominous sign, Kestrel knew, and he realized that he had no margin for error going forward. Word of his dislike for the Viathins would spread rapidly, he was sure, and would provoke some dangerous reaction, he was equally sure.
The tour didn’t last much longer, probably cut short due to his outburst, he suspected, and Kestrel and Moorin returned to her suite, where they found her belongings had been transported from the ship. “I would leave you so that you could have some privacy, but I’m afraid I’m not sure where Ruelin’s own chambers are,” Kestrel told the elven countess when they were alone in her room again.
“I’ll leave if you would like to have some time to collect your thoughts,” he added.
“What is your name?” Moorin asked, looking at him as she rose from her seat and started to walk towards the windows.
“You should call me Ruelin. Anything else in this building will be dangerous,” he answered.
She opened one of the glass double doors and looked out at the horizon. “I don’t know what to think about you,” she said softly. “But this is a terrible place, to feed live people to those monsters.
“You were right to forbid that. It may cause trouble, but it was correct,” she said as she turned to look at him. “Gods help us,” she murmured.
There was a knock at the door, and the two of them looked at one another. “Say lots of prayers, Moorin,” Kestrel told her as he walked to the door.
“Majesty,” a young page stood at the door. “There’s to be a state dinner to celebrate your safe return.”
“Meaning I should be getting dressed and ready?” Kestrel asked.
The young page silently nodded.
“Wait here just a second,” Kestrel told the boy, then leaned back into Moorin’s room. “I’m going to follow this boy to my rooms and change, and then I’ll come back to join you to go to dinner. Is that alright?”
“That plan sounds as good as any,” she agreed. “I’ll wait here for you.”
Kestrel stepped out into the hallway and told the boy to lead him to his own suite.
The trip turned out to be much further than Kestrel had expected. They traveled a long hall and turned a corner before they reached a doorway where two guards stood at attention. The men pulled the doors open as Kestrel arrived. “Thank you,” he told the page as he prepared to enter the room, then he said “thank you” again to the guards.
He found that when the doors closed behind him he stood in a large, elaborate hall, one that was decorated with sensuousness and overwrought elaborate fashion that was in stark contrast to the military rigor seen throughout the rest of the palace. The hall stretched out before him, with several doors leading to rooms on either side, and a pair of doors at the end that stood open to reveal sunlight in the room at the end of the hall.
Kestrel walked down the hall wondering what was behind so many doors, and then he passed through the double doors and stopped to gape in wonder. It was a bedroom, presumably the prince’s bedroom. It was much more than a bedroom. There was a small pool surrounded by potted trees, and a fireplace in the middle of the room that was open to view on all sides. There was a small bar area, where several bottles were lined up in shelves. There was a bed, a very large bed. And there were women – three nude women who rose from their chairs and walked towards him.
“Welcome back, our prince!” one of them said cheerily as she approached.
“I’m sorry, am I in the wrong room?” Kestrel immediately asked as he stared at a spot on the wall just above the women’s heads. “I wasn’t expecting to find three women here.”
“Did you want more of us here? Shall we invite Chaindree to join as well? Isn’t that old elf princess giving you what you want?” the girls asked.
“Stop. Put some robes on,” Kestrel commanded.
The girls did stop, and looked at Kestrel inquisitively, not advancing, but not moving towards any clothing. “Is this some new game you’ve thought of?” one of them asked.
“Yes,” Kestrel hastily agreed, “it’s a game. Let’s pretend that I’m a stranger to the palace, and I’m possibly a prude, so you girls have to act delicately and be proper and slow and cautious in how we act with one another. That will help me prepare for my wedding night with my new bride.
“She’s, she’s different from us,” he lamely finished.
“It’s a very odd game, my prince, but we will obey,” the dark-skinned woman agreed, and the trio passed him and went down the hall behind him, where they each opened individual doors and stepped into rooms, then came out moments later with sheer robes drawn about them.
“That may not be what you would wear around strangers,” Kestrel said as he shook his head, “but it’s an improvement.
“Now,” he realized he had stumbled onto a ruse that might have some longer-lasting value until he had a fuller understanding of the circumstances he was in, “pretend I’m that stranger, and I’ve just come in here to take a bath and clean up, then I want to change into fine clothes. What would you tell me to do?”
And so, through his strange gambit of pretending to pretend he was who he was, he was cleaned and clothed and able to leave the overbearing suite with his morals intact, and stroll back to Moorin’s room. When he arrived he found that the door was slightly ajar, and he entered the room cautiously, then was horrified to discover Namber of Graylee sitting on a chair in Moorin’s bedroom, talking to her as she sat rigidly in another chair.
“I hope you don’t mind that I stole a few moments of your bride’s time to come chat with her. She is such a ravishing beauty that it’s hard to stay away from her, unless of course, you’ve got a half dozen other beauties tucked away in the palace somewhere,” Namber said in a condescending tone. “Isn’t that right Ruelin?”
“I can’t imagine a half dozen beauties anywhere that could lure any man away from Moorin,” Kestrel replied. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, I believe the lady needs to get ready.”
“She’s welcome to get ready,” Namber answered. “I’m not holding her up. I’ll even offer to help.”
“And I’ll remind you she is my betrothed and under my protection, so you’ll leave this room now, and never return without my prior permission,” Kestrel felt his outrage towards Namber explode, and he took a step towards the man.
The former prince of Graylee gave a sneering smile, and deliberately took his time rising from the chair he had sat in. “Oh, don’t be so hasty Ruelin. You’ve got so many playmates tucked away around the palace, there’s no reason why Moorin shouldn’t have a few playmates too, or shouldn’t be someone else’s playmate perhaps,” he spoke, then turned and slowly walked out of the room.
“Thank you Ruelin,” Moorin said. “He came in as soon as you left, and he started telling me such outrageous stories, about how a replica of me had lived in his palace with him, and been enchanted by him. He told me some things about myself that are true that he absolutely shouldn’t know. It was creepy,” she said.
“And it reminded me of that time Kestrel tried to talk to me at my father’s house. Thank goodness you came and put an end to that,” she finished. “Now, will you help me out of these things?” she turned her back to him, and he cautiously unbuttoned the back of her dress. Every time his fingers touched her flesh he felt as if the tips were burned with temptation, and he stopped the task as quickly as he could.
“We’ll have to get a maid in here to help you,” he told her as he spun away.
“Namber was right,” he told her as he listened to
the rustle of cloth, “Ruelin does have several woman companions in the palace. I met a few of them in his suite.”
“Is that why you took so long? You had to sample the wares?” Moorin asked with surprising bitterness.
His head turned around to look at her in surprise, before he recollected that she had broken off her engagement with Aurelia’s brother, Prince York, because of his infidelity. “No,” he answered sharply. “I didn’t sample them. Just as I haven’t sampled you either since I’ve occupied this body, or made any improper moves, I hope.”
“No Ruelin, you’ve been a gentleman,” Moorin agreed, mollified.
Half an hour later, as a servant knocked on the door, Kestrel clasped a necklace behind Moorin’s back, and she pronounced that she was ready to depart for the dinner. The servant led them to one of the public rooms they had seen earlier in their tour of the palace, where Kestrel saw that the dinner was to be a large public affair, with scores of diners in the room.
Probst, the Uniontown ambassador, was the first to approach Kestrel when they arrived in the room. “Your majesty is reported to be upset since returning. Was your journey unpleasant? Namber reports that you were unusually curt with him.”
“Namber is weak and unwanted. Why does Uniontown even bother to continue to support someone like that who has lost three wars?” Kestrel asked bluntly.
“Namber remains compliant, and therefore useful,” Probst purred. “We keep him and who knows, he may prove useful as a replacement for someone else who proves less willing to be a loyal ally,” the ambassador obliquely threatened, then walked away from Kestrel and Moorin.
Kestrel looked at Moorin grimly, then took her arm and moved away from the ambassador. They stood together near the head table and began an unofficial greeting line, as person after person lined up to introduce themselves to Moorin, commenting on her loveliness and welcoming her to Seafare. Kestrel stood silently and listened to the introductions, trying to judge whether each person who spoke was part of the Viathin conspiracy or not, attempting to learn who was trustworthy and who was treacherous.
At length a servant approached and humbly asked the head couple to be seated at the table. Kestrel led Moorin up to the dais, and they stood at the center of the head table, as the other seats filled in around them. As long as Kestrel remained standing he knew that everyone else would have to as well, and he remained on his feet as every other diner stood behind their own chair, looking at him, fidgeting and wondering why there was the long delay in sitting.
“Tonight, I wish to toast my lovely betrothed,” he raised a glass, “to the woman who was my fortunate fate to fall in love with, and to who I pledge my loyalty and devotion. I will rescue her and save her from any and all troubles that are within my power to end.”
The two of them looked into each other’s eyes as Kestrel spoke, and he saw the kind warmth at first, and then a spark of alarm at the end of his toast, before they clicked their glasses together.
People started to shuffle their chairs, thinking that the time to take a seat had come, but Kestrel remained standing, and those who had already sat slowly retook their own feet, grumbling at the further delay.
“And to make this nation worthy of such a future princess, I devote the future of my reign to bringing back honesty and integrity to this palace and this nation. Here’s a toast to nations who have values that are dignified and in the best interest of their people, not just their masters,” he looked directly at Probst as he spoke, then raised his glass and took a sip.
All throughout the room there was confusion as people tried to decipher the meaning of Kestrel’s cryptic toast, and some raised their glasses while others didn’t, but all sat down as soon as Kestrel held Moorin’s chair for her.
“I believe you are not Ruelin, and I know who you are,” Moorin leaned over and whispered in his ear. “You’re not as bad as I thought, perhaps, but you’re too brave and too foolish. Don’t keep poking them with a stick.” She straightened herself and sat upright at her place.
Kestrel knew he had said too much. He had given ammunition to both Moorin and the Viathins’ forces in Seafare. He picked up his glass of wine and took a long sip, then set the glass down. There were small pieces of meat on the plates in front of each diner, and he used his fork to take a bite of one such piece. It had a surprisingly tough texture, and a taste he didn’t recognize. He looked around the room, and saw that some people were eating their small meats with relish, while others were not touching theirs at all; the people who he had identified as Uniontown supporters were the ones inclined to eat the meat, and he had a sudden horrible premonition.
He raised his hand to his mouth and spit the meat out, then used his other hand to clamp it forcefully around Moorin’s wrist as she used a fork to raise a bite to her own mouth, stopping the tines just an inch away from her lips.
“What are you doing?” she hissed.
“I think it’s human flesh,” he answered. “I think they’re cannibals.” He released his grip on her wrist, and watched the marks of his fingers fade.
Moorin’s face turned white, and she hastily put her fork back down on her plate. “Are you sure?” she whispered as she regained her composure.
“I don’t recognize the taste, and the people who are eating it and liking it are all the people I know I don’t trust,” Kestrel answered. He pushed his plate away from him, and saw that many of those in the audience were watching the whispered tete-a-tete at the head table.
Moorin pushed her plate away too, and Kestrel took another drink from his wine. He felt a fuzziness in his head, and shook his head slowly as he blinked his eyes. It was the wine, he realized. The human body he occupied was reacting to the wine, and was getting drunk from the two long gulps he had taken.
He motioned towards a servant, who hurried over to see what the prince wanted. “I’ll drink water instead of wine,” he said. “Please bring me some.”
“What was that about?” Moorin asked quietly.
“I’m not used to wine, and I don’t want to be drunk,” Kestrel answered.
“You’re really an elf, aren’t you Kestrel?” she pressed.
He closed his eyes and took a dead breath.
“Yes,” he said quietly.
“Why?” Moorin paused as a servant took away their dishes and placed new ones in front of them.
“Why are you doing this? Why are you stalking me? How did you even manage to switch into Ruelin’s body?” she asked.
Kestrel looked out at the eyes focused once again on the intense conversation. “I didn’t make the switch happen,” he replied. “I don’t know how it happened. After you left the harbor on the ship I decided to leave the Northern Forest because you had left, and you were the only reason I had gone there. The imps were carrying me away, only something went wrong, terribly wrong on the journey. When I woke up I was on the ship with you, and you’ve been by my side ever since.
“Can we talk about this later, privately?” he asked.
“We shall,” she agreed in a monotone.
They ceased talking to each other and ate in relative silence. Kestrel asked the person on his other side how the weather had been in his absence, and listened to a long story about multiple unrelated things throughout the entire next course, after which, Namber of Graylee stood up, and the room grew quiet.
I want to thank Prince Ruelin for sharing the sight of his beautiful bride with us tonight, and I look forward to knowing her much better,” he said as he raised his glass. “Here’s a toast to the friendship of Seafare and Graylee, an ever closer relationship with each other and our friends in Uniontown. I look forward to the assistance you will provide when I lead the campaign to take back control of my capital and impose discipline on the unruly mob that currently rules there.”
Kestrel knew that he had to control his temper. He had already made too many mistakes, said too many things in his first few hours at the palace to be able to afford many more. He had to remember his training as a spy,
he suddenly realized, when he had focused on blending in, on causing no problems and drawing no attention. They were the actions and the traits he had criticized Wren for not possessing, when his cousin had been too blunt and confrontational, just as he was being now.
Except when he had been a spy it had been for a purpose – to gather information – and with a known ending – his pretensions had ended when he left the humans. In his present circumstances there was no clear ending, and no purpose, except to protect Moorin.
He realized that the room was waiting to see him raise his glass in response to Namber’s toast, and he slowly raised his glass halfway up, enough to signal that the others in the room should join in the toast.
“And here’s to the success of our campaign,” Namber continued; it was evident to Kestrel that the man had drunk a great deal of wine, as his words slurred. “When Greater Graylee, including Hydrotaz, have returned to order, we will launch the war to wipe out completely the evil, nasty, despicable, quarrelsome, filthy elves of the Eastern Forest.
“With all apologies to your lovely bride from our friends the Northern elves,” he belatedly added. And he raised his glass again.
Kestrel slammed his glass down on the table, hard, and Moorin reached beneath the table to grab his forearm and squeeze it, urging him to remain calm, just as he had told himself moments ago that he needed to remain calm.
He shook Moorin off and stood up abruptly. “No,” he said loudly. “There is no cause for anyone in Seafare to drink to the harm of any person from any other nation, elven or human. We have enough suffering and need among our own people that I will not toast the notion of spreading pain among others. I will drink a toast to peace and friendship among the nations that are led by men and women of good will.” And he raised his own glass to that cause.
Namber was looking at him with murderous eyes, and Probst was studying him thoughtfully, he saw, as every table was engaged in strenuous debate over the battling toasts.
There was a movement in the corner of his eye, and he saw that Moorin was standing, calling attention to herself, and as the room quieted down, she raised her own glass. Was she going to offer a third toast, Kestrel wondered. Would she expose his identity?
The Inner Seas Kingdoms: 04 - A Foreign Heart Page 34