“Here they come,” Sareem whispered on the thirteenth ring.
It was indeed a spectacle. Men and women of all ages and shapes trickled out of the marble building by ones and twos. He told her there were thirteen in total so the show wouldn’t be over too quickly. Some made speedy departures through the crowd and off down side streets, presumably making a quick retreat home. Others took a more leisurely stroll. Just as Sareem had predicted, some people shouted while others shook hands with their elected officials.
But it wasn’t this that kept the smile upon Vhalla’s cheeks. It was their clothing. Clearly, drapery was the order of the day, a traditional Southern style that was quickly going out of fashion for the tailored looks of the West and practical sensibilities of the East. Every senator bore a golden medallion on a heavy chain, but the similarities ended there. The first was a man swathed in Eastern purple silk with a gold hem. He wore his whitening hair up in curls with peacock feathers sticking out at odd angles.
The next woman had a pinched face and a pointed nose, one that Sareem couldn’t help but comment on.
“She looks like she’s been forced to smell her own waste,” he whispered eagerly into her ear. Vhalla bit her knuckles to keep from laughing.
The next man had a pig nose, and the one after Sareem jested about rolling down the steps as his shape was far better suited for such than walking.
Vhalla was having such a fun time that she didn’t even mind it when Sareem draped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close for more whispering. She simply kept giggling like a fool and let Sareem continue his roll of taunts in her ear.
“Look there. Look, look, all the ruffles make her look like a chicken.”
Vhalla turned her head away from the building to examine one of the ladies in yellow. She had made some very unfortunate choices with all the ruffles of her dress piled upon her not so small rump. Vhalla was having more fun than she expected; she beamed at Sareem, and he grinned back at her. It felt like they were kids again and could simply laugh and be silly without the pressure of anything more.
Then the wind shifted, and the smile fell from her face.
She knew he was there before she even turned her head. She felt him. It was a subtle temperature shift carried on the breeze or the sound of his boots on the marble road. Vhalla turned her head slowly to see Aldrik walking alongside a Southern man with darkening blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. They were still a few steps away and were deep in conversation.
“Sareem, this was fun, but I’m really hungry, so let’s get going,” she pleaded, trying to shrug his arm off.
With a laugh he pulled her closer, his lips pressed against her ear uncomfortably. “But the best part is now walking toward us, the Head of Senate. And, we have the dark snob prince too,” he snickered.
Her lips parted and shut again quickly, barely catching a vehement defense on Aldrik’s behalf.
“The Emperor has ordered certain crystal relics be brought back from the North.” The senator’s voice gave Vhalla the same feeling as ripping paper, a chill uneasiness at its quiet yet harsh sound.
“I have not heard of this,” Aldrik responded. Even though they were whispering, Vhalla could hear their conversation along the wind. Their words grew louder with every nearing step.
“Sareem, please,” she begged. Vhalla reached up and grabbed his hand to pull Sareem’s arm off from her shoulders and drag him away herself. But it was too late.
Aldrik’s eyes fell on hers. He considered her a long moment, clearly no longer interested in whatever the senator was saying. His brow furrowed and a shadow darkened his face briefly before his expressionless mask slipped back into place and he looked forward once more.
Vhalla opened her mouth to speak but couldn’t come up with words to say. Sareem was muttering like a fool in her ear still, but she couldn’t hear him over the words of the Senator and prince.
“Was that someone you know, Prince Aldrik?” the head of Senate asked suddenly with no subtle interest.
“Hardly,” Aldrik’s voice was cold and fading. “Why would I associate with common-folk?”
Then he was gone. Aldrik kept walking until he was out of sight. He never looked back.
Sareem remained oblivious to the turmoil raging within her chest. Vhalla tortured herself with the notion of running after him. But anything she did would only make a scene. What had that look meant? Even the senator had noticed the subtle shift in the crown prince. She chewed it over as Sareem continued prattling away, leading her wherever he wished. Did it matter to Aldrik how she spent her time? Vhalla barely contained a scream of frustration.
She was poor company all the way back to the palace. But Sareem didn’t mind as he filled the silence enough for both of them. Vhalla refused his offer for dinner, heading straight for bed. Food would taste like ash in her mouth anyways.