The castle’s banquet hall was immaculate when the courtiers of Reiont began to arrive for the evening meal. Every surface had been polished until it shone in the light of the fires and hanging lanterns. The long tables and high-backed chairs looked new despite seven centuries of use. Most of the tapestries were still down for cleaning in preparation for Lanre and Maya's wedding feast. The few that had been rehung shone with their original brilliance. The one depicting the UNE Galaxia almost seemed to glow with an internal light where it hung above the central fireplace.
“Amazing, isn’t it?” Aligh asked. Lanre turned to his grandfather and followed his line of sight to the tapestry. “I used to imagine it was the real Galaxia, restored and shrunk down to fit into the tapestry, it looked so real.”
“It’s much different tonight,” Lanre agreed.
“With the soot and dust removed, you get the effect of the metallic thread woven throughout.” Aligh chuckled. “Father caught me once, climbing on one of the chairs to get a better look at it. First, he tanned my rear for almost destroying a piece of our history. Then he explained in detail how and why it looks different from the other tapestries.”
Aligh sighed and fiddled with his glass.
“I should have had it cleaned before now,” he said. “But the less it’s bothered, the longer it will last. I didn’t want to repeat old mistakes.”
“More people have come tonight than I expected,” Lanre said.
Maya and Chantal had yet to arrive, but the hall was as full as Lanre had ever seen it. He’d reached out to Maya’s mind when he entered with Aligh earlier. He needed the stabilizing effect of the calm her well-shielded mind offered. Speculation and emotions were high. The swirling, overloud cacophony of the banquet hall made him dizzy and angry. He shouldn’t fault the courtiers for their joviality in ignorance of Princess Kalie’s fate. But it rankled to see them laughing and smiling when all he wanted to do was weep.
“And how often does a noblewoman no one knows exists drop out of thin air?” Aligh asked. Lanre felt chided despite the amused crinkling around his grandfather’s eyes. “They’re all curious. A few feel threatened, no doubt.”
“I wouldn’t be able to tell you,” Lanre admitted. “I can’t distinguish one emotion or mind from another in this jumble.”
“Don’t be so dependent on your gift.” Aligh covered Lanre’s hand with his old one. The king’s hands felt frail, but his grip was strong. “Remember what I’ve taught you about reading the expressions and body language of others.”
“I do,” Lanre answered. “But my shields can only keep others out of my mind. I still hear everyone around me. I can’t block it out without Maya’s help.”
“She’s already helping you block the excess,” Aligh responded.
Lanre looked at his grandfather in surprise.
“You’ve looked less green the last few minutes.” Aligh shrugged. “I took an educated guess.”
The doors opened, and the room fell silent as all heads turned to see who entered. Lanre barely recognized Chantal. She wore a deep green gown he recognized but couldn’t place, and her hair was up-swept. The effect was maturing. That morning, he’d been certain she was little more than a child, but now she seemed almost a grown woman.
Her eyes were wide and shining like a spooked animal’s. Lanre feared she would turn and run, but she allowed Maya to guide her toward the high table. Chantal wrung her hands as she took the seat to Aligh’s right.
“Relax, child,” the king said as he patted her arm. “You’re among family.”
Chantal managed a weak smile. “I’ve never been to anything like this before,” she said. “I always either ate with Father or in my rooms.”
Servers began setting plates before the nobles in attendance, distracting Lanre from the conversation. He surveyed the room. With Maya at his side, distinguishing emotions among the crowd was possible. He’d have a migraine if he persisted for long though. All were curious, but none spoke.
“You two look alert for women who’ve been awake for twenty-two hours,” Lanre sent across their link.
“We’re both running on adrenaline,” Maya answered. “I’m sure I’ll pay tonight for missing the afternoon rest.”
Lanre frowned. She’d shut their link down before she went to sleep, trying to protect him from the nightmares she had when pushed to exhaustion. Was it pride on her part that kept Maya from reaching out to him, or did she think he needed coddling?
“Should I ask Selah to sleep in the adjoining room tonight?”
“And take her away from Jetsa?” Maya sent him an image of the caricature she pictured herself as with her eyebrows lost in her hairline. “No, I don’t think so. My exhaustion is the result of my foolishness. There’s no reason Selah’s baby girl should suffer for it.”
“When will Roggsha’s adoption be finalized?” Chantal asked.
“Tomorrow afternoon,” Maya answered. “A nice farming couple from Reshana are adopting her.”
Chantal pushed her food with her fork, and Lanre could see disappointment in her expression.
“So soon?” she asked.
“I’m afraid so.” Aligh patted Chantal’s hand.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
“It’s for the best,” he said. “She needs parents, and the hurt for you will be less if they refuse to allow her to train as a companion.”
“Why would they?”
“Despite evidence to the contrary,” Aligh gestured to the feasting gentry, “tensions are high. The life of a companion is dangerous in times of conflict.”
“Oh.” Chantal turned her attention back to her food.
Lanre was searching for something to say to his cousin when Aligh turned to him. He didn’t say anything, just raised an eyebrow, and Lanre knew he wanted him to make the introductions. Whether Aligh considered this part of his training or was just tired after a long and unusual day, he didn’t know. Lanre nodded to his grandfather before standing to gain everyone’s attention.
How he hated giving speeches! He dealt with the bombardment of thoughts and emotions daily. That was bad enough, but there was something about the eyes of a crowd following his every move he found unnerving. Tonight, on top of that, he’d have to play the part of a pleased cousin rather than a grieving son, and he wasn’t much of an actor.
“Today is a good day,” he began, training and practice holding his voice sure despite the trepidation he felt. “Fortune has brought us an unknown kinswoman.”
A murmuring rippled through the room.
“That Count Ralic is a private man is well known,” he continued, ignoring the gossips. “Therefore, it comes as little surprise my uncle remarried and forgot to send invitations.” Chuckles sounded. “Sadly, his new bride left him a widower again, but not before blessing him with a beautiful daughter. Friends and kinsmen, I introduce Chantal Virchow, daughter of Ralic.”
Applause erupted, and Chantal hunched in her chair. She tipped her head forward, giving Lanre the impression she was trying to hide behind her hair. A flush darkened her skin and did not fade until the applause did.
“What brings you to Reiont, Lady Virchow?” asked Lord Zalier from his seat in the back of the hall.
“I bring a report from Tembar and to attend my cousin’s wedding,” Chantal answered.
Lanre was impressed. Chantal had given an honest answer without compromising tomorrow’s hearing. It wasn't something many her age could do.
“And your father?”
“He sends his regrets,” Chantal answered. Her head was up now, and she held Zalier’s gaze. “He finds travel through the Wastelands does not agree with his health. It has kept him homebound since the plague ravaged Tembar.”
“Isn’t that the pathetic excuse Ralic gave you?” Lanre asked Maya through the privacy of their mental link.
“We discussed the possibility of this line of questioning as we prepared for the banquet.” Maya grinned. “It is his official reason for not attending after all, and the practice seems to have helped Chantal find her footing.”
“I was wondering how she’d gained confidence so quickly.”
Maya scoffed. “She’s awkward, true, but it comes from a lack of experience. All she needed was to know what to do.”
“What is your father up to these days?” asked Zalier. “He always found the most interesting things.”
Lanre was sure his heart stopped at the question. He opened his mouth to speak for Chantal, but she was already answering.
“He’s kept busy with the day-to-day running of Tembar.” She sighed, glancing down at her plate before returning her gaze to Zalier. “With my mother gone, matters of governing and the household fall to him.”
“A pity,” said Lady Rosnine, Zalier’s wife. “I had hoped he was continuing to study. He has such a sharp mind.”
“That he does, Lady Rosnine,” Aligh agreed. There was a heavy undercurrent of pride, mingled with regret, in Aligh's words.
“Too bad he uses it for uncouth ends,” Maya thought. “He hurts his father so.”
“Grief can drive a man to many things, Maya.” Lanre sighed.
“Is it still his grief driving him nowadays? Or is he motivated by frustrated ambition?”
When he turned to look at her, Maya was looking past him to Chantal as if their silent conversation wasn’t taking place. “You’ll need to start looking for a trainer for Roggsha if her parents agree to her becoming your companion,” she told Chantal.
“We could guess about his motives from now until doomsday,” Lanre answered. “But it’d bring us no closer to the truth without him here. He may have simply gone mad.”
“I thought the parents trained their children.”
“They do, but Roggsha’s parents are farmers,” Maya answered Chantal. “They can teach her the basics, but she’ll need a Yekaran companion to train her for her duties.”
“He seemed mercurial enough,” Maya agreed.
“Won’t it be years before she needs to begin training?” Chantal asked. “She’s only a baby.”
“She will be your peer in about a year and a half,” Aligh told her. “Yekarans mature quickly.”
“Oh.”
“Do you think Chantal may be confusing a nightmare with memory?” Lanre thought with a sudden, desperate hope. She was still young. The connection she experienced with Maya hinted that she was at least nominally telepathic. Mental shields weakened in sleep, and the dreams fed by those of others could seem as substantial as they were terrifying. His childhood memories were a confused jumble of dreams and reality.
“You have about a year before you must have a trainer for Roggsha,” Maya told Chantal. “However, it’s preferred to find one as early as possible, so student and teacher can build trust.”
“She doesn’t strike me as a girl who would betray her father based on the fuzzy images of a dream,” Maya answered with a mental caress. “Then there are the records to consider as well.”
“No, she does not.”
Lanre tried to smile, but based on the worry he saw in Maya’s eyes, he knew it was more of a grimace. She patted his knee and strengthened the shielding her mind provided for his. The quiet was welcome.
“Although the records say nothing about Mama or Borcon, they make it clear Ralic’s up to something.” Lanre bit the inside of his cheek and grasped his cutlery until his knuckles ached to keep another round of tears at bay. He hated the people around him in that moment as he heard their laughter and loud conversations. How dare they be happy when his mother had been murdered! Couldn’t they see his heart breaking?
Maya’s fingers smoothed over his knuckles as she sent him a wave of love tinged with her own sadness. “You are not alone, my love,” she thought. “Whatever it is, we will stop him. They will have justice.”
Lanre let go of his knife and turned his hand over to link his fingers with Maya’s. He squeezed her hand and sent her a surge of gratitude.
“Will you be visiting Brigton after dinner?” she asked.
He nodded.
“Would you check on Tricon for me? I worry for him tonight.”
“Of course,” Lanre agreed.