Lib Novel Page 48
“I’ll take his portion and mine as well,” offers Hinarax. When he’s served, he shovels a large bite into his mouth and heartily chews both the flaky fish and the fine bones within. By contrast, everyone else at the table is deftly extracting the white flesh with tiny forks, leaving the bones on the plate.
The lord across the table frowns as Hinarax’s teeth crunch the fish bones. I grip Hinarax’s knee under the table by way of warning.
“Why is your esquire eating the razorfish bones, Prince?” asks a lord of Elekstan, from two seats down the table.
And then everyone is staring at us. The entire dinner party. Including Rahzien.
I glance at Meridian, who has choked on his wine and is coughing behind his hand. I can’t tell if he’s sincerely choking or if he’s giving himself time to think of an excuse. Either way, I cannot allow this silence to drag out any longer.
I clear my throat. “That’s how we eat fish in Zairos. It’s recommended by the palace physician. Good for digestion.”
“Doesn’t it hurt?” inquires the Elekstan lord.
“Not at all. Perhaps our throats and stomachs are tougher than yours.” I reach over with my fork, stab a large chunk of Hinarax’s razorfish, and eat it. The slim bones snap between my teeth as I give the other dinner guests a savage grin. “Delicious,” I manage through the gritty, spiny mouthful. I nudge Meridian. “Isn’t this how we eat it in Zairos?”
“Oh… yes.” Meridian lifts his fork, stares forlornly at the bone sticking out of the white flesh, then puts the bite into his mouth. “Just like home,” he wheezes.
“Well then. A toast to the men of Zairos and their iron-clad throats,” says Rahzien, lifting his cup. “May the women who entertain us tonight be blessed with such fortitude.”
He laughs raucously, and so do most of the men at the table. I drink several swallows of wine to wash down the fish bones. Thankfully, once the toast is done, the attention of the group moves away from the three of us. Meridian makes a soft gagging sound once, but he seems to improve once the main course is served.
So far, so good. We have a little more information about the magic at the King’s disposal, we know that the poisoner is here in the palace, and we avoided detection, if clumsily. I’m disappointed that Serylla hasn’t yet made an appearance, but I suspect she will, after the meal. If not, I’ll find some excuse to slip away and search the palace for her.
A palate cleanser is served, then another main course. When will this meal end? Dragons gulp their food quickly and move on, while to humans, eating seems to be a form of entertainment, not simply a means of survival.
Next comes the cheese course, during which I begin to suspect that I’ve passed into the afterlife, and the Bone-Builder has condemned me to an unending nightmarish banquet. But at last the servers present dessert, which according to Norril is usually the final course. I cast a wary eye over the fluffy confections of pink, lavender, and pale green on tiered white trays.
After sampling one of the desserts, Hinarax turns to look at me, his eyes wide and delighted. “You must try these.”
To please him, I pop one of the fluffy things into my mouth. It tastes like Serylla, like flowers and sugar. I hate it, because I want her. I take another pastry, a green one this time.
I’ve barely swallowed it before Rahzien rises from the table, a broad smile on his bearded face. “And now, gentlemen, if you would join me in the ballroom, we’ve prepared some entertainment. I’ve invited a group of agreeable ladies to make themselves available to us this evening, both during the dance and in every way possible afterward. They’ve been well paid, so please enjoy them thoroughly. If you require privacy for such enjoyment, one of the servants can direct you to rooms prepared for that purpose. And there is a unique treasure tonight that only one of you will receive. If you wish to partake of that treasure, come speak with me about how you plan to support the Empire of Vohrain in the future. The most generous coffers and the best-laid plans will gain the ultimate prize.”
A murmur of interest ripples around the table, though I notice some of the Elekstan nobles glancing at each other with concern or caution. How many attended this event because they wished to pacify their new ruler? How many came to the palace out of fear, not loyalty? More importantly, how many could be potential allies against Rahzien, in support of Serylla?
As the guests leave their chairs, Meridian edges closer to one of the Elekstan lords. “So may you rise,” he says, in a cheerful undertone.
After a second, the other man responds quietly, “So may we all.”
It’s an innocuous interchange. To anyone overhearing them, the words could refer to everyone getting up from the table. But I’ve heard Meridian speak that phrase before, back in the seaside village where we first met him. And I’ve heard it a few times since then, among the rebels. If I’m correct about its significance, at least one of the noblemen in attendance tonight is a friend to the rebellion. I’m not sure what Meridian plans to do with that information, but the presence of another ally is reassuring.
Hinarax, Meridian, and I head into the ballroom with the other guests. The arched ceilings are cavernous, exquisitely decorated with ornate patterns. My grandfather would have loved this place, would have stored the beauty of it in his mind and reproduced it later on the walls of a cave.
In the highest arches of the ceiling, great glittering objects hang from gold chains. Each one looks as if the Bone-Builder gathered two armfuls of stars and formed them into a cluster of brilliant illumination.
“What exquisite chandeliers,” Meridian says pointedly, by way of informing us, and Hinarax breathes the word reverently: “Chandeliers.”
At the head of the room is a tiered platform, rising in broad steps to a gilded archway. Along the edges of the wide steps, musicians sit on stools, cradling their instruments.
As the last of the dinner guests file into the ballroom, servants close the three sets of double doors along the north wall. My skin crawls at the sensation of being trapped, boxed in with Rahzien and his guards. Vohrainian soldiers seem to be everywhere, next to each pillar, standing in every alcove, haunting each corner. For once, none of them are wearing helmets, perhaps to make the party seem more relaxed and inviting.
Music crashes against my ears. I flinch, because even though I’m used to the roars of dragons, this seems sharper, more threatening. I’ve never heard so many instruments playing together at once.
Thankfully the bold, brassy sound only lasts for a moment. Mist billows down the tiered platform, and from the archway at the top, a figure emerges.
Her appearance synchronizes with a fierce tug in the depths of my soul, the reawakening of the connection between me and my Princess.
She’s dressed in white, her golden hair bouncing around her shoulders in loose, soft waves. A silver mask covers the lower half of her face, and she wears a silver cage around her hips. Her long legs are half-clad in lace, with ribbons around her thighs—a most pleasing effect, but I can’t enjoy it because my heart feels hot and swollen—it’s pounding right out of my chest. Blood thunders in my head.