The large, waxed floor had been cleared to make way for layers of round tables, all stretching around each other in wider and wider circles. The outermost one held the other Kings and leaders, though the High Emperor still sat at the highest point, his table and chair raised higher than the rest of the ring. His heavily pregnant wife sat to one side, and his bored looking daughter at his other side. Next to High Empress Aelfswith, sat King Faustus and Rhoswen, with two chairs next to her empty and waiting. As Heddwyn took his seat, Rhoswen raised an eyebrow in silent question, and Wil bowed in response.

  The table in front of him had already been supplied with a goblet of dark, rich wine and a pile of freshly browned vegetables, complete with a dark meat that matched the pig’s head in front of the High Emperor. The music still wafted out from the far corner, and the conversation still buzzed as lords and high-ranking army members and other members of politics mingled at the tables in the middle.

  The food smelled fresh and delicious, a pork that had been slowly cooked over an open fire and left with a smoky, dry aura. Juices dripped down from Heddwyn’s chin as he tore into his own plate, and Wil’s mouth watered. The rest of his life would be meals like this, events like this. His stomach growled and he reached for the wine, hoping it was strong enough to starve off the worst of the emptiness. It was rich and dry and went down his throat like nails. He needed a distraction.

  ‘Alright, tell me what you know,’ Wil said.

  Heddwyn paused mid bite, a chunk of meat hanging from his mouth. He stared at Wil with open contempt.

  ‘Try,’ Wil pressed. ‘The important ones are the other heirs.’

  Heddwyn pulled a face.

  ‘You’re going to be working with them in the future,’ he pointed out. Then, noting the High Emperor’s daughter glancing their way, added. ‘Maybe even married to one.’

  ‘No,’ Heddwyn said. ‘Not until I’m old and King.’

  ‘Not always.’

  ‘Father was in his thirtieth year when he married mother,’ Heddwyn pointed out.

  ‘And your mother was only a few years older than you,’ Wil returned. ‘Come on, Hedd. You can name the different commonwealths, you can at least tell which is which. We can start there.’

  Heddwyn chewed on the meat, regarding each of the nobles with a sour face. He had been right about one thing; there were a lot of people here. Eldwylle’s royal family was rare for only having the three members, and each other sovereign had brought their families and retainers with them.

  ‘Alright, start with our neighbours,’ Wil said.

  ‘The Resei?’ Heddwyn asked. ‘They’re the slaves.’

  As soon as the words left his mouth, a grey-uniformed Resei leaned over to top up Rhoswen’s goblet. A small flicker of emotion sparked in her eyes, making Wil flinch.

  ‘Northenders, if you can’t pronounce Al?ani,’ Wil said. ‘But I was talking about Jer?vica.’

  Heddwyn pulled another face. ‘Did you have to start with the biggest one?’

  If this kid was going to be in a bad mood all night, Wil had half a mind to come up with his own spy plan and end up in the gallows. ‘Just point them out.’

  Heddwyn rolled his eyes, then pointed across the table at a group wearing draping robes of bright purple and green. Some had ribbons and feathers woven through their hair, but all of them had hair, long and thick and tied into braids. Each of the men had thick beards as braided and decorated as everything else.

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  ‘Tell me about them,’ Wil ordered. ‘There are two tribes, right?’

  ‘Those two are the leaders,’ Heddwyn said, though he didn’t point to the two men sharing a spirited conversation. Each had a wife on his side, and a group of children each. ‘The guy and two girls on the right, they belong to the prairie tribe. And the other guy with the younger boy, they belong to the other tribe. They look like they get along.’

  ‘That’s good,’ Wil said. ‘It’s better when they get along. What about the other woman on the left.’

  ‘She came with them,’ Heddwyn said. ‘I don’t know who she is.’

  Wil didn’t either. She looked to be the same age as him – if not on her thirtieth year than close to it – with thick, dark hair spilling in ringlets over her shoulders and a narrow face deep in focus in the conversation. ‘An envoy, I imagine. What about Quwavia?’

  Heddwyn slumped. ‘Again?’

  ‘You just pointed out the biggest group, so yes, again. Quwavia.’

  Heddwyn rolled his eyes, then flicked his hand across the room. ‘Those ones.’

  At least progress was being made. Wil regarded the dark skinned group on the other side of the room, the Grand Minister sitting with her son and daughter. Both women had shaved their hair down to a simple buzz, wearing fine dresses of silk and white leather. The young son had longer hair in a thin, raggedy braid, sticking out of a cowl made of the same white leather. Last he’d heard of them, it was news that the King had died. It was strange to him that Minister Ianthe hadn’t remarried when it was such a deep rooted custom back home, but then again, he had no regard for his own king. ‘They’re nice people,’ he said. He nodded to the young son. ‘He’s about the same age as you.’

  ‘They smell like fish,’ Heddwyn mumbled.

  ‘So?’

  ‘So it makes me sick.’

  I give up. ‘I feel like you’re not trying.’

  Heddwyn turned to stare at him. ‘You’re not talking to anyone either.’

  ‘I’ve taken the time to learn who they are,’ Wil pointed out. ‘Quwavia are lovely people, and the tribes have an interesting way of life. I already know this. What have you learned?’

  ‘The tribe people are loud and weird, and the island people smell bad.’ Heddwyn slumped in his chair. ‘What about the other ones?’

  ‘Bulartuug?’ Wil glanced over at the group sitting next to them. The King sat between two young adult women, none of them baring any resemblance to each other. Wil didn’t recognise any of them, but that wasn’t surprising. The easternmost kingdom in the commonwealth was more turbulent than the weather on the Dead Strait. This King was balding on the top of his sun-kissed head, draped in fine furs and silks as though he somehow thought the best idea was outdoing the High Emperor.

  Behind him was a knight wearing armour of padded leather, though it looked bare without any swords or bows to join it. She stood stoic and plain-faced, watching over the room passively. She had copper skin, dark from a natural standpoint and dark from a life in the sun, and her pointed, hooded eyes were dark to almost black, though her short hair, as messy and wavy as it was, was an auburn red colour, a shocking flash of unnatural that confused him a little. Usually only royals took painstaking weeks to dye their hair the same they would clothes, and it was usually to add shine or hide grey.

  At the same moment Wil realised he was staring, she turned and met his gaze, then recoiled a little. When Wil flinched, she tilted her head, her dark eyes narrowing in confusion.

  ‘They’re the twins,’ Heddwyn mumbled.

  Wil blinked, tearing away from the red-haired knight. ‘What?’

  Heddwyn nodded at the women sitting on either side of the Bulartuug King. ‘Those two. They were introduced as twins.’

  ‘Uh, right.’ Wil shook himself. The strange knight was still staring at him, weary, inspecting him. He took quick note of the two women who were actually the focus. They looked close to the same age, one pale with long white hair, stretching straight down her back, with a narrow face and large nose, while the other had a square face with a mess of mousy curls balanced on top of her head. ‘Some twins don’t look the same,’ he mumbled.

  ‘That’s not what twin means,’ Heddwyn mumbled. ‘What’s wrong with you?’

  The red haired knight finally turned away, and Wil shook himself. The sooner this night was over, the better.

  ‘Don’t worry yourself about it,’ Wil said.

  Rhoswen leaned over on the other side of Heddwyn then, whispering something in the boy’s ear. Heddwyn shifted in his seat. ‘Mother says if you can’t keep yourself under control, you need to excuse yourself.’

  Wil bit down his reply. There was no concern over controlling himself after a decade of practice, but the excuse to leave this conversation, even for a moment, was enough for now. With a bow towards Rhoswen, he stood up and made for the stairs back down into the palace.