I doubted King Tebald permitted anyone inside the palace who wasn’t perceived as important, and that most certainly wasn’t me. I was only here because of my association with Fowler. My newness aside, I was sure little care would be given me. Everyone would be in a dither over Fowler’s arrival—even if he wasn’t present for the meal. He was the prince of Relhok, after all, and betrothed to Princess Maris.
Elegant slippers and fine boots shuffled over the hard stone surface of the floor. There were too many bodies to count and that made me jumpy, as though my skin were stretched too tight over my bones. I inhaled the delicious aroma of food I couldn’t even begin to identify. My stomach rumbled. At the far end of the great hall, an enormous fire burned and crackled. Several hounds lounged in front of it, their panting breaths and pungent, baking fur eddying around me, flaring my nostrils.
I pushed a hand against my bodice self-consciously and stuck close to Princess Maris, unwilling to be left alone in this room full of strangers. They already saw too much of me in all this glaring light, in this dress with its low-cut bodice. I would not have them see anything more about me.
Following close behind Maris, I sucked in a breath, trying to pick out all the sounds over the band of musicians playing in the corner. No easy task.
A bell pealed loudly over the jumble of noise.
“That’s the signal. It’s time to take our seats. You’re over here.”
I cleared my throat. “Which seat?”
I was grateful to feel her hand close around mine. She had the softest hands, like a child’s. “You can sit next to Gandal. He’s the royal physician’s son. He has very fine eyes.” Her tone lowered suggestively.
I perked up a little at this. Not because of his fine eyes—the part about him being the physician’s son. Perhaps he would have news of Fowler? It wouldn’t hurt to inquire. The sooner Fowler’s well-being was established, the sooner I could abandon this place that made me feel dizzy and so out of sorts. “Thank you.”
I was ushered onto a bench. Princess Maris made the introductions and then slipped away, moving to the head table that was elevated upon a dais—where the important people dined. The distance between that table and me told me how low I ranked on the social hierarchy.
I tracked Maris’s progress, marking the soft tread of her footsteps ringing hollowly up the wood steps and across the raised platform. Once she settled into a chair, I turned my attention to those around me, listening carefully over the music to all the voices, marking each individual and trying to follow the anecdotes swirling on the air like a tangle of threads in the cavernous echoing space.
One woman complained because she hadn’t been able to find her hand mirror and suspected her maid, that “lazy, shiftless girl,” had taken it. The gentleman across from her assured her that a mirror wasn’t necessary, as she looked ravishing. The lady laughed coyly and I knotted my hands in my lap, wondering at this place and these shallow people who acted as if there were no hungry monsters at the gates.
It was a large table, seating at least fifty, maybe more. I wasn’t certain of the exact number, and that was something that troubled me. I was blind but had never felt impaired, never lost or floundering. Until now. Multiple conversations rolled on all around me. I focused on keeping track of them, even when it made my head hurt.
Outside there was a rhythm, a cadence in the soft chirps of insects, the yips of giant bats, the ebb and flow of wind through dying trees. And Them, the dwellers, sending out their eerie calls. They could be relied upon, too. In here there was only the unknown, the machinations of people my gut told me not to trust.
After the initial introduction with Gandal, we exchanged a few pleasantries before he ignored me in favor of the lady to his right. The princess was wrong. I wasn’t nearly as appealing as she proclaimed. My conversational skills were perhaps even worse than I’d thought. Or it was simply that I was unimportant—a nobody even for the son of a physician.
I folded my clammy hands together in my lap. The aroma of well-seasoned meat was more pronounced than ever, and my mouth watered. I had never smelled so much food. Surely we would eat soon.
“I almost did not recognize you.”
I started at the warm voice sliding near my ear. A voice that I instantly recognized. I should have heard him coming. My pulse sputtered in alarm at my throat. This place was ruining me, eliminating my edge. Before I knew it, if I wasn’t careful, I would be as weak as all of them.
“It’s astounding what a little soap can do, Prince Chasan,” I rejoined, rubbing at the goose bumps that puckered the skin of my arm.
He chuckled. “Indeed. Do I not smell better, too?”
I opened my mouth and shut it, stopping myself from pointing out that he had not smelled foul to begin with. “I can’t claim to have a strong sense of smell, Your Highness,” I lied.
“No?” His body sank down on the bench to my left and I started a little, concerned that he meant to stay beside me. I didn’t want his attention. I wanted him gone.
I wanted to be gone.