Page 166 of Prize for the King
The master of ceremonies taps his golden staff on the floor and announces us.
“King Magnar, Queen Caliane, and their personal guests.”
“Welcome, welcome!” Sidonius rushes over, all aglitter in a bright golden suit with a short, ruffled cape. “Here, Your Majesties, let me guide you to your seats. Your guests are invited to sit at the Table of Passion. It’s the red one. Our personal little joke.”
He titters, and I can’t help but glance at Magnar. Sidonius embodies perfectly everything that’s affected, exaggerated, and silly about courtiers. My father had people like him in his court, too. They were audacious flatterers, and loved to gossip and joke. Not a word from their mouths could be trusted.
My husband’s face is stony. I suspect Sidonius’ affected manners annoy him. And it’s only the first obstacle tonight.
“That is ingenious,” I say, becoming Simpering Caliane.
My pretending skills are rusty after a wonderful period of being my authentic self, but my training was ingrained through debilitating repetition and abuse. I’m glad for it right now.
“Red for passion, absolutely wonderful!” I trill, letting Sidonius clasp my elbow as he leads us to the royal table. “And how, pray, are the other tables called?”
“The Envy Table,” he says, his eyes widening with excitement as he points at the table covered with green, “because everyone whodoesn’t sit there wants to! Then we have the Wisdom Table, the blue one, for those who prefer cerebral discussions, and finally, the Fool Table.”
He grins, waving a flamboyant hand at a table covered with a shimmering purple cloth.
“For the jesters, jokesters, singers, and puppeteers. And here we are. The Royal Table. Since it is your first Gathering of Kings, I’ve allowed myself to give you the two centermost places of honor, so you can be admired from every angle!”
And every little mistake we make will be witnessed by all,I add in the privacy of my mind as Sidonius’ gaze settles on Magnar for a fraction of a second too long, bordering on insolent. I realize what’s going on. Our host, or maybe the others as well, hope to see Magnar humiliate himself with poor table manners. He’s a beast, after all.
They are in for a rude awakening. My husband has the manners of a king.
We stand behind our chairs, and even though two valets begin to approach from where they stand tastefully hidden among a display of plants behind the table, Sidonius waves them away with a discreet gesture.
Magnar, who’s used to me struggling with heavy Agnidari furniture, pulls away my chair with perfect chivalry.
“Here, love.”
I give him a smile as I sit, then glance at Sidonius, holding eye contact. He has the decency to look abashed, though I can tell he’s mostly disappointed. Yes, the Table of Fools brims with people brought here to amuse and entertain, but they are old news, aren’t they?
An Agnidari king, however—that’s a novelty.
When Magnar sits, I turn to my neighbor, the queen of Trista. She’s older than when I saw her last, the brown hair at her temples dustedwith silver, but the smile she gives me is kind. She and my mother were friends.
“Oh, Caliane, how tall you’ve grown,” she says with affection before her face crumples in sympathy. “I am so sorry for your losses—both of them, since we haven’t met after your mother passed. I hope you won’t mind me, but I asked to be seated next to you. I’ve wondered how you’ve been.”
“Thank you,” I say, hiding my relief. Queen Nasturtia is the best table neighbor I could wish for, since I actually know her, even if only from my childhood. “I have been well. I am happily married, as you can see, and I adore Roharra. It’s a beautiful country.”
“Really?”
Nasturtia’s face grows fixed, eyes disbelieving, and I understand it’s not the answer she expected. But of course. I should be miserable, since I’m married to the beastly Tyrant who conquered my kingdom.
“Yes, Nasturtia. I’d love it if you visited with me one day.”
“Visit you—in Roharra?” Her lips open in shock, as if the very idea is something unthinkable.
“Well, of course,” I say with a smile. “The war is over, isn’t it? The roads are comfortable, and we do have such beautiful sights. The capital is so very different from the cities in the Eleven. And the Agnidari are skilled singers and dancers. They play drums, and it’s rather exciting. Oh, and the baths are exquisite, but I won’t offend you with details.”
Her eyes widen more the longer I speak, and she leans in, voice conspiratorial and low.
“Please, do tell, I will not be offended. What about the baths?”
I lean in closer, whispering as if I’m about to reveal a great secret. Truth be told, I find the rules of my upbringings ridiculous these days—because why should Inotdiscuss my bath or shampoo?—but I know Nasturtia did not have the advantage of spending time amongirreverent, honest Agnidari.
“They have a system that carries hot water through pipes in the walls,” I say, giddy to share my excitement. “You just turn the tap open, and it flows out! And the tubs areenormous. Oh, and you should try their soaps and shampoos! Do you remember my hair when I was younger? Well, I have this hair essence from Magnar’s friend, and it really tamed my locks. You should visit me for the cosmetics alone, truly!”
