Chapter 7 #2
She held my hand as I stepped into embroidered chopines, praying that I wouldn’t trip in them.
“Stay,” I insisted, as she moved to leave with me.
“Someone has to finish that food.” She nodded eagerly, pulling me into a tight hug.
“Good luck,” she whispered in my ear before retreating into the chamber.
A guard who had been stationed outside my door gestured for me to follow him.
The King was the first person I saw when we arrived in the great hall.
He wore a black doublet embellished with silver embroidery along the arms and over the chest, its cuffs the same shade of crimson as my gown.
His hair had been left loose, secured with only a simple silver diadem that glittered in the candlelight.
Around his neck, he wore a pendant in the shape of a waning moon. Catching sight of me, he grinned.
“Finn, you are exquisite,” he said, bowing at the waist.
I dropped into a low curtsy. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
My heart pounded in my chest as we neared the gilded doors that led to the ballroom.
He offered me his arm, which I gratefully accepted.
As the doors creaked open, my ears were flooded with music and boisterous conversation.
The king’s subjects bowed to him as we entered, a wave of finery and faces flushed with food and drink.
They were adorned in all manner of extravagance, with brilliantly colored fabrics embroidered with gold and silver thread, and glittering gemstones woven into their hair.
Still, King Mordric outshone everyone around him.
My skin warmed as hundreds of eyes bored into the back of my head.
I marveled at the golden platters adorning the banquet tables, piled high with roasted meats, cheeses, and bulbous, bloodred fruits I didn’t recognize.
Another was covered in a sheet of ice and packed with an array of red crustaceans with menacing pincers, pots of gold-flaked caviar, and round, iridescent shells.
As we drew closer, I realized there were still creatures tucked inside, waiting to be plucked out and eaten.
Beneath the massive windows that looked onto the palace grounds, a trio of acrobats in scant clothing twisted into unusual shapes before the crowd. Beside them, guests cheered as a waiter poured sparkling wine over a precarious tower of glittering crystal goblets.
As I watched, a frenzied courtier appeared at our side, two pages on his heels.
He was a waif of a man, with dark skin and long braids that swung violently as he flitted from place to place.
He snapped his fingers and a waiter appeared at our side with two flutes of sparkling wine.
I took mine with thanks, gripping it tightly by the stem.
The golden bubbles fizzed and burst at the rim of the glass in rapid succession.
“Your Majesty,” the courtier squeaked, bowing and straightening so quickly that he practically bounced.
“Martin,” King Mordric said jovially. “You should be proud of yourself.”
“Still plenty of time for things to go wrong,” he sighed, fiddling with the end of one of his braids.
The King beamed. “You worry too much, as befits a Master of Ceremonies in charge of this rabble.”
“Of course, Your Majesty.”
King Mordric nudged me forward. “Meet Miss Finwal Erramun, a future adviser of mine. Finn, this is Lord Martin Khalif.”
“Lovely to meet you,” said the man, his gaze entirely focused on a waiter who was precariously balancing a tray of used glasses in one hand while refilling a drunken guest’s overflowing cup with another.
“I can feel the nerves wafting off of you,” said the King, grinning. “Back to your duties, then.”
The Master of Ceremonies practically flew to the waiter’s side, chastising him in hushed tones. “Martin is a perfectionist,” the King explained. “Which is what makes him so good at what he does.”
“It certainly is paying off,” I said, looking around the room. “This is incredible.”
I turned back to the King, realizing he was watching me closely, a smile playing on his lips. “To your health,” he said, raising his glass.
“And to yours,” I replied.
I tipped back the flute and took my first sip.
My eyes widened as the tart bubbles fizzed over my tongue.
I had never tasted anything like it, being more accustomed to sips of warm ale or a stolen swig from Mrs. Cathers’s whiskey bottle after she had passed out drunk on the kitchen floor. It was exquisite.
“Allow me to introduce you to some people,” said the King, whisking me across the room.
We approached a human couple, the woman bedecked in a gown of dazzling greens and blues.
Her hair was adorned with the feathers of some kind of bird that matched the hues of her dress.
She stood with her husband, I assumed—an older gentleman with thinning hair and brown eyes.
A single green feather was tucked into his lapel.
“Your Majesty!” screeched the bird woman, dropping into a clumsy curtsy.
Her husband quickly followed suit, bowing at the waist. “We are your honored servants,” he drawled.
“Thank you for coming,” said the King. “Allow me to introduce Miss Finwal Erramun, who is preparing to join you on the council, Frederick.”
“You are lovely indeed,” purred the man, taking my hand and planting a wet kiss on my knuckles. I resisted the urge to recoil. “I am Frederick, Duke of Altwater, and this is my not-so-lovely wife.”
“Pleasure,” I replied flatly.
“I wasn’t aware that there was an open post on the council, Your Majesty,” said the bird woman, her pitch rising.
“Not unless you’re looking for a new Tradesmaster, eh, old boy?” her husband chimed in with a wink. “I might welcome the retirement if it wouldn’t mean that I’d be stuck in Altwater with this old bat.”
He laughed uproariously as his wife scowled.
“Of course not, my friend,” said King Mordric. “She will be assuming the role of Adviser of the Arcane in time for the summer solstice.”
I glanced sideways at him. We’d never discussed a timeline, and half a year didn’t seem nearly long enough for me to master my abilities.
The bird woman’s eyebrows nearly flew into the nest of feathers atop her head.
“Fascinating indeed. There hasn’t been one of those in my lifetime. Best of luck, dear.”
“Thank you,” I said, although I couldn’t help but notice that her smile did not spread to her eyes.
“Enjoy your evening,” said the King as he led me away from the couple.
“The summer solstice?” I asked, once safely out of earshot.
He nodded. “I know it may seem rushed, but I’d rather not delay until next year.”
My brow creased. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”
“Of course not,” he said. “My apologies. According to Valenian law, I can only induct new members to my council on the longest and shortest days of the year.”
“May I ask why?”
“My great-uncle, King Sangrey, apparently had a penchant for adding too many advisers all at the same time. He owed coin and favors to many, and it was his way of paying his debts. In the end, there were so many people on his council that nothing ever got done. From what I understand, the law was written after his death to ensure that the future kings of Valen were a bit more responsible.”
“How fascinating,” I said. “I never gave it much thought, but I suppose that even kings have to follow rules.”
He chuckled. “We certainly do. At least, in this case, it gives us plenty of time to ensure that you’re trained up. By the time the solstice sun burns, you will be as wizened and respected as the rest of my council.”
My cheeks burned. It seemed like an awfully short amount of time, but I supposed I was willing to try if he was. “You flatter me, Your Majesty.”
“Allow me to point out my remaining advisers,” he said, gesturing to the courtiers peppered across the room. “You must know William, my Lord Seneschal,” he said, nodding at a fair-haired man engrossed in conversation with Martin, the Master of Ceremonies.
“I do,” I said. “Although I’m more familiar with his apprentice.”
“Are you? Can’t say I’ve met him myself, but there’s no one I would trust more to keep the palace running smoothly.
And here we have my Chief Adviser, Ansell Volorthen.
” He pointed out a bearded, elderly vampire standing alone before the fireplace.
“He was an adviser to my father as well. Always lost in thought, that one.”
“And her?” I asked, lifting my chin toward a plump, stern woman adorned in gold like a gilded statue.
Her graying hair was piled into a tower of braids atop her head, woven with glittering gemstones.
It wobbled as she conversed with her companion, threatening to rain jewels over the floor.
“I believe I’ve seen her walking the corridors before. ”
“Good eye,” he replied. “That’s Lady Philippa Greenwood, Keeper of the Royal Purse.
And to her left is Sir Killian Raltisse, Master at Arms. I’m sure you’ve seen him stomping around.
Hard to miss that mustache. Then there’s Victoria, Keeper of Secrets.
” I spotted a vampiress dressed in all black, standing flush against the opposite wall.
She watched the guests with bright yellow eyes like an alley cat.
In her hand, she held a crystal goblet that never touched her lips.
“Victoria of?” I asked.
“I have no idea,” he said, grinning. “She’s that good.”
I chuckled. Scanning the room, my gaze snagged on a vampire with inky-black hair who stood not far from us. A crystal goblet dangled idly from his hand as he sent the small crowd gathered around him into fits of hysterical laughter. I suspected it had nothing to do with his sense of humor.