The doors swing open to reveal palace stewards in gray silk. Father beckons to me to follow but he doesn’t wait. With his loyal soldiers at his back, he strides into the massive audience hall, larger by itself than the entire compound I grew up in. The murals painted onto its walls depict the perilous sea voyage of the first Kliatemnos, the fleet’s miraculous survival in a fierce storm, when the shadow of a sea-phoenix kept his ships afloat, and the glorious shores of Efea where he made landfall and gained a crown. The sea-phoenix diadem is painted on his noble brow in gold leaf. Real jewels are embedded as his eyes, and his sister and queen, Serenissima the First, glitters, for her figure is constructed of tiny tiles rather than painted. The effect makes her seem to leap out from the mural like she is doubly alive, a woman with two sparks.
Our footfalls thunder on the marble floor because we are so many. Father walks in front, his limp quite noticeable, providing an easy target for the palace guards stationed on either side of the hall, swords and spears held ready at their sides. More palace officials cluster at the far end of the hall, whispering as they take their ordained places. It all happens so fast.
The king’s throne sits on a dais, framed by a vast carved lintel that captures the throne as if within a picture’s frame. The seat has a simple base with a back that flares outward in the shape of sea-phoenix wings, enfolding and embracing the ornately cushioned chair like white foam rising off the water.
A man already sits on the throne.
At first I think it is Nikonos, that he has arrived on a swift war galley before us and we have walked into his trap.
But it is Kal who surveys the men sinking to one knee to surrender their loyalty and lives to him. I’m so surprised that I forget to kneel. Across the distance he sees me standing. His expression isn’t triumphant. Instead he wears a mask of grim resignation.
King of Efea. The destiny he never wanted.
I helped him win this trial. He climbed the victory tower, and now he can never let go of the victor’s ribbon until he is dead.
10
Kal makes a stirring and fortunately brief speech to the Royal Army.
“Your courage… hard fought… sacrifices not in vain… We have prevailed here but more battles await us.… Our enemy must be vanquished and Efea set free of foreign boots.…”
He might as well be speaking gibberish.
Servants fan the warm air to keep it moving. Watching their seemingly tireless arms, I cannot help but think of the boy I saw murdered to keep Prince Temnos alive. The son of a lord named Perikos, he’d been brought into the palace to be a loyal companion to the prince. When I think of that nameless youth, I’m not sorry King Kliatemnos was murdered for his part in the child’s death. And yet when I think of Temnos, I know we did the right thing in driving Nikonos away. Kalliarkos and Father can make something better. They can.
They have to.
After Kal finishes and the obligatory cheers die down, palace officials form a phalanx of silk and escort him out a bright red door set into the back wall. I want to follow, but the palace is a Fives court with new rules, ones no one has bothered to explain to me, and for once I’m too intimidated to move.
A squad of veterans under the command of Captain Helias sets up a tight guard at the red door. Once they’ve secured the entrance the captain cuts across the hall to where I’m standing at the back.
“King Kalliarkos commanded me to make sure you are safe, Doma.”
He offers a smile, then blushes as if he’s been caught trying to filch a cake that belongs to someone else. He’s a nice-looking young man who has been nothing but punctiliously polite. I want to break out laughing because he’s exactly the sort of promising young highborn captain Amaya once chattered incessantly about snaring. But I’m afraid anything I say or do might reflect poorly on Kal, might make me a liability to his moments-old claim to the throne.
Father appears, shedding dust and disapproval. “Captain, I will take charge of my daughter. Your responsibility is to guard the king.”
The captain salutes. “Yes, General.”
Father ushers me through the red door into a part of the palace I would never in a hundred years have dreamed I would see. A path bisects a lovely garden, its twin pools lush with lotus flowers. Gray-robed stewards and palace guards in gold tabards watch me like they wish they could pluck me from where I’ve fallen amid the blossoms and toss me out with the rubbish. Whispers catch at the edge of my hearing, making me flush at such demeaning comments.
“…shameful… embarrassing…”
“The general dangling his daughter like ripe fruit before a hungry boy…”
Father halts, and they cease whispering at once. Nevertheless he takes his time memorizing the features of each official who has dared to gossip in his presence.
At the far end of the garden, Kal has halted on the steps leading up to a luxurious audience pavilion for noble visitors. A splendid couch embroidered with a sea-phoenix stands above the rest, placed on a dais.
“I will take reports here,” he says to the officials who have arrayed themselves on the steps to block his ascent.
A senior steward bows. “Your Gracious Majesty. Of course you must first wish to bathe after your arduous journey. I will assign attendants to oversee your ablutions in the private residence.” He gestures toward a gate on the other side of the garden. “Once you are clean and properly attired, you will be fit to preside over any immediate administrative duties.”
Kal’s voice is clipped with annoyance. “We must secure the palace and clear the city of all East Saroese soldiers before I can consider a bath and proper attire.”
“But Your Gracious Majesty—”
“No.”
I would laugh at his blunt tone but there is nothing to laugh about. Palace officials make their lives serving the king and queen. Did these men greet Nikonos with the same obsequious flattery with which they flutter about Kal? Are they just putting on a show for him, waiting to betray him the moment his back is turned?
He glances toward me. I lift my chin, and he breaks away from the officials and walks over.
“General Esladas, what do you recommend? I never thought we would get this far. It happened so fast.”
“The palace should fall under our control quickly, Your Gracious Majesty. It will take longer to be sure we have the city under our full jurisdiction.”
“I have no concern about the military aspect of our enterprise, not with you in command, General. I meant, how should we direct these officials who are so determined to cage my every step in protocol?”
“As far as I can see, the palace stewards are like dogs fighting over scraps. One to polish the king’s boots and another to adjust his sleeves. I would never allow so many useless hangers-on in any army I command. But your understanding of palace politics far exceeds mine, Your Gracious Majesty.”
“Before, I never had to give the orders or worry that I would make a mistake in protocol that would open me up to derision and insubordination.” Kal glances at the waiting officials, then at me again. But now that we are here, I have no idea how to proceed, no way to help him, no thought at all. I’ve run into a trap I don’t know how to get out of.
“If I may make a suggestion, Your Gracious Majesty. I was raised at court.” Captain Helias salutes, fist to heart.