3
“And not for you?”
“No, not for me, my responsibilities differ.”
“And he has In-Sar to help him.”
“How do you know In-Sar?”
“I don’t, Tammy has met him though.”
He tugs at his beard and stares straight ahead.
“You don’t like In-Sar?”
“He is a good male, hard worker, loyal to the farm and the king.”
“I see.” I don’t push it any further. There is something cagey about Ar-Hagan’s tone. I haven’t heard it before, not in him, but I’ve heard it in myself when anyone has ever said anything negative about Tammy.
I change the subject to what our meal with the king and queen might consist of and his face brightens. Al-Hagan loves his food and eats an enormous amount. But then he’s enormous, and physical all day, so I guess he needs the fuel.
We arrive at the palace and I look up, in awe of its beauty. The tall spiked turrets, the stone that seems to sparkle in the twilight and the lush gardens that are richly stocked with flowers of every color.
We alight and I breathe deep, the atmosphere is fortified with sweet petal scents and dotted with tiny bugs that glow red.
“Are you ready?” Ar-Hagan asks, holding out his arm for me to take.
“Yes.” A coil of anticipation winds in my belly. Just how will the evening go?
We climb the wide steps. There are male guards, dressed in pure white, either side of the entrance. They watch us but don’t acknowledge us as we enter the palace.
“The king and queen bid you greetings.” A man steps up to us, not a guard but a servant I presume and dressed in a plain pale lavender tunic and pants. He holds forward a tray holding wine goblets.
“Thank you.” Ar-Hagan takes two and passes one to me.
“The dinner party is to be conducted to your left, please follow me.”
We do as he asks and I look around. The walls are heavy with silver gilding and there are paintings of landscapes and among them one of a hirion, one of the big brown beasts I’ve seen prowling in the distant farmland.
Two large gold doors are open. Beside each an urn overspills with pink and white flowers.
There is a low hum of conversation. My nerves ramp up a level.
Ar-Hagan seems to sense this and squeezes my arm closer to his body.
We pause in the doorway and take in the long flame-lit room.
It’s dominated by a table which is occupied except for two seats, presumably ours.
A long floral arrangement of the same pink and white flowers with their frothy petals fills the middle and there are numerous goblets, cutlery and plates set around.
The arched windows opposite are huge and look out over a balcony, beyond that the mountains and the thick scarf of Drideon’s long starry tail.
The queen, Visha, stands. “Ah, you have arrived.” She smiles and steps forward.
Her husband, a head and a half taller, is close behind her.
“I am sorry, Your Majesty, are we late?” I’m not sure whether to courtesy or bow or hold out my hand. So I do nothing and hold my glass a little tighter.
“Not at all.” She smiles in a friendly way. “We were all a little early, but just this moment seated ourselves.”
“You do have the farthest to travel, from the farmlands.” The king smiles at me and then nods at Ar-Hagan. “Good to see you, Ambassador.”
“We thank you for the invitation.”
“The pleasure is ours.” The queen nods to the table. “Please, we have seated you somewhat in the middle of our happy little crowd.
“Thank you.” I look around the table. “Rachel!”
She is already standing. “Mel.”
We are embracing in an instant, formalities forgotten. “I didn’t know you were going to be here?”
“I’m sorry, I should have called your thread, it all happened so fast and—”
I laugh. “And I should have called your thread.” I pull back. “I love your dress.”
“Thank you.” She swishes the silvery pink material. “And yours, that color, with your hair, wow.”
“You know each other.” The queen is suddenly at our side.
“Yes.” I grin, “Your Majesty, we do. We have been friends for a long time.”