“Be seated,” the king said, and I fumbled for my chair.
One of the other women let out a quiet snort. “As if the king wants to work with those cowardly Gromalian dogs long-term.”
I didn’t look up. If I showed any interest, she would immediately clamp her mouth shut. Luckily, Lisveth lifted her head.
“What do you mean, Alcandre?”
Alcandre heaved a sigh. I didn’t need to look at her to know she was rolling her eyes. “I mean Gromalia turned its back on us during the fae wars. They refused to get involved. They didn’t want to risk losing and the fae turning their attention their way. Luckily, we had the gods on our side. But if there’s one thing I know about our king, it’s that he values our history. King Regner was the one to seek an alliance with Gromalia. King Sabium may need Gromalia to help us shore up our borders, but he’ll make them pay for siding with the fae last time.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Dinner was a buffet of breads, cheeses, fruits, vegetables, and meat. So much meat. The wine flowed freely, and the servants brought out sweet pastries, candied fruits… It was the kind of meal I’d dreamed of in my village.
I didn’t taste any of it.
The queen’s ladies ignored me. Lisveth attempted to start a conversation a few times, but I was distracted, and she quickly gave up, likely tired of my one-word answers.
When my mind slowed enough, I listened to the ladies’ conversation, mentally taking notes of everything they were saying—even as I felt Lorian’s eyes on me.
The five other ladies had been accompanying the queen for years. Lisveth’s mother had been one of the queen’s close friends, and she’d died from fever shortly after Lisveth was born when the healer hadn’t arrived in time to save her life. Lisveth was the youngest of us all at just sixteen winters, and the queen treated her almost like a daughter at times.
Caraceli was the woman who’d once been in charge of the queen’s fire and was closest to Katina—the woman the queen had found at the market. The woman I’d arranged to return to her village.
When Katina arrived home, she would find her parents in excellent health. Caraceli seemed to hate me even more than Madinia, likely because I’d taken her friend’s place.
Caraceli and Madinia also hated each other. Madinia seemed to hate everyone, but occasionally when the queen wasn’t looking, she’d call Caraceli fire girl with a smug smile.
There was a reason no one seemed to like Madinia. And it wasn’t just because her father was apparently so close to the king.
Pelopia and Alcandre were sitting at the other end of the table, murmuring quietly to each other. I hadn’t yet learned how they’d come to be in the queen’s employ—likely Auria could tell me later. Both had nodded to me, but other than Alcandre’s comments about Gromalia, they’d stayed quiet. Likely because neither of them wanted to attract Madinia’s ire.
I could still feel Lorian watching me. How exactly had he ended up here? My heart thumped faster at the memory of the fae he’d met with near the Gromalian border. I needed to know what Lorian was planning and how his plans would affect my own.
I risked a glance over my shoulder when the room went quiet. The queen had gotten to her feet. With a few murmured words to the king, she walked toward the door.
“Do we need to follow her?” I asked.
Lisveth shook her head. “The queen likes privacy after one of the king’s dinners. And she especially enjoys being alone after the castle balls. We’re allowed to leave whenever we like.”
I studied the others at the king’s table, ignoring Lorian, who was deep in conversation with King Sabium. “Who are the other people sitting with the king?” I asked quietly.
Lisveth smiled. “They’re the king’s patriarchs. They own huge swaths of land, depending on how much of the king’s favor they’ve courted over the years. Down the end of the table is Patriarch Kofod.” She nodded toward a man with a mournful expression who looked drunk already. “Next to him is Patriarch Farrow—Madinia’s father.”
I studied the man. Madinia’s mother must have been a beauty, because other than their red hair, the two had no other similarities that I could see. I glanced at Madinia. She raised one eyebrow at me.
Patriarch Farrow was sitting next to the king. A powerful man, indeed. The Gromalian prince sat on his other side. “And next to the…prince?”
“Patriarch Thueson.” She smiled. Thueson had wiry white hair that stood out from his head as if he couldn’t help but run his hands through it. He looked deep in contemplation as he studied his plate. “He’s a nice man,” Lisveth said. “My father was rarely at court when I was young, and Patriarch Thueson always had a piece of honeyed fruit for me.” She leaned close and lowered her voice to a whisper. “He hates court. He’d much rather be managing his lands with his husband, but the king enjoys his company and often insists he stay here. Next to him is Patriarch Greve.” She nodded toward a man with a thin, sharp nose and a sallow complexion. Something like fear darted across her face, and I opened my mouth, but Lisveth turned back to face the table. Clearly, she didn’t want to talk about it.