I try not to even think anything of Myles or Eogan in case that’s the way her Luminescent ability might work. Clearing my throat, I eye the traditional Cashlin silk skirt and midstomach blouse cutting nicely on her voluptuous frame. She’s even wearing the wraparound shawl I’ve seen her in on official occasions. “They were missing some of their parts. But I think they’re lovely. Especially on you.”
“Funny. But flattery won’t get you off the hook next time. Fair warning.”
I grin despite my nervousness.
Distract her. Keep her talking. “Did you see their water closets?”
Her eyes grow as large as wasp’s eggs and she nods. “The water’s even warm!”
“I know. So are the walls.”
“One of my men said they built the palace with pipes in the walls so they can pump heated water through them.”
I lift a brow. That’s brilliant actually. If Eogan were himself, I’d . . .
I swallow and shift my thoughts to the floor in front of us.
Myles brushes against me as he leans over. “Allow me to commend you ladies for the fact that, of all things right now, you’re talking about the water closetsss. Seems to me your time would be better spent discussing what this evening might hold for your necksss—”
His voice breaks off as Rasha and I both snicker, and Sir Gowon stops at a giant copper door. Rasha jabs Myles in the stomach. “Perhaps. But I would’ve thought you, of all people, would’ve been most impressed with those closets.”
“Ah, here we are, ladies and gentlemen,” Sir Gowon says.
In unison, the Bron soldiers retreat two paces, and the large one who searched me earlier steps forward. Slowly, he opens the door.
CHAPTER 15
THE ROOM IS EMPTY.
Which makes the squeak of the metal that much louder as it’s pulled shut behind us. It echoes in the enormous space that’s lined with row upon row of tables leading up to a platform on which sits the king’s table at the far end. Hanging from the ceiling along the center aisle droop more of those enclosed lanterns, blanketing the entire place in light and exaggerating the walls we’re all staring at. They’re covered from top to bottom in maps showing all five kingdoms of the Hidden Lands. And they’re uncomfortably detailed.
If my nerves were on edge before, they’re close to unraveling now.
“Such curious decor,” Lady Gwen says in a small voice.
“A tad thick on the world domination side if you ask me,” I mutter.
Myles chuckles and Lord Wellimton utters something akin to a gasp. “Young lady, I’ll ask you to keep hold of your manners—what few you have—so as not to ruin the greatest negotiation opportunity between the two nations.”
I shut my mouth as Rasha asks Sir Gowon, “Where is everyone?”
He doesn’t answer. Just smiles tightly and walks us down the center aisle between the rows of stark, smooth-lined metal tables and handcrafted silver seats to those nearest the head table.
With his hand, he indicates chair assignments for each of us. “Please sit.”
Lord Wellimton slides into a seat closest to the king’s table while Rasha stares hard at our host. The other delegates stand awkwardly with expressions probably mimicking my own. Be seated for what? My nerves go from taut to churning knots. I should say something to Sir Gowon. I should tell him now what Eogan said. But my feet are rooted to the cool floor.
“Sir Gowon, will others be joining us soon?” Lady Gwen’s tone wavers.
“They’ll be along shortly.”
Rasha releases her stare on the old man and tips her head at us. “From what I can tell it’s fine.”
It doesn’t ease the tension, but I follow her example and take my assigned spot next to her, all the while studying Sir Gowon and attempting to find the right words to say. Because somehow “Oh, by the way, Eogan has become Draewulf” doesn’t have quite the air of authority it needs.
After a moment, Lady Gwen sits next to me, then Lord Percival, with Myles stealing the end closest the door. Our Faelen and Cashlin bodyguards take up watch against the wall with a heightened air among them.
“I’m sure this is normal,” Lady Gwen murmurs in my direction. “I mean, I’m sure seating their guests before anyone else is merely part of their culture.”
I force a smile. “I’m sure it is.”
Her responding grin is grateful. “That’s what I thought. I doubt they’d invite us here just to, well, I’m certain this is the decor they were stuck with on such short notice of us coming here.”
“I’m sure it was.”
She nods, but after a second she says, “Although, would you mind asking Princess Rasha if her Luminescent abilities are picking up on anything?”
Rasha bends in front of me to pat Gwen’s hand. “You have nothing to fear, Lady Gwen. It will all be fine.”
“Of course, I knew that. But still, it’s good to know. However . . .” She looks back to me. “If anything was to go wrong . . .” She smiles and peers up at my white hair and at my blue eyes, as if comforting herself with the fact that she and the other delegates have brought security with them.
“Lord Percival,” I say, to distract her. “What would your wife say to all this?”