27.

“Oh, what am I going to do, Daphne?” I jump onto my bed, sprawling out. My feet are killing me from wearing heels for two hours.

“Listen, miss. Whatever the King wants, the King gets. Even if he’s askin’ ya if ya want a tour, he’s basically tellin’ ya.”

“Maybe this will be my chance to ask him about materials, so I can go home.”

Daphne doesn’t speak. She continues to wander around the space, organizing everything I’ll need for this afternoon. Is that a sign? I mean, he’ll help Legora, won’t he? I hope I didn’t come all this way for nothing.  

I prod some more. “Or is that a bad idea?”

“I can’t be tellin’ ya what’s good an’ bad, miss.”

I honestly don’t know what to do. I came here to speak with him about helping our town, but it seems like every chance I have to say something, he ignores me or someone thinks it’s a bad idea. Perhaps I should go back and tell the people of Legora he won’t help us, because he doesn’t seem to want to help anyone else that’s in misery.

But because I’m persistent, I’ll give it one more shot.

Daphne lays out another dress at the end of my bed.

“Is that for tonight?”

She nods. “We can’t have ya wearin’ the same thing.”

“Why not?”

“Ya jus’ don’t do it ‘ere.”

How bizarre. Changing clothes from morning to afternoon? Back home, I only had two outfits to my name. Here, there’s an armful.

“Whatever you say.” I exhale a long, drawn-out sigh.

“Don’t be nervous, miss. You’ll do fine.”

“I hope so. My town depends on me.”

I’m promptly ushered to feast at three-thirty. The banquet room is home to a table that seats at least fifty, if not more, with a fireplace on each end, sparkling glasses, lit candles, and footmen at each of the three entryways.

Embellished, white placemats lay below dishes with a gold border. Carrot-colored floras in clear vases are centerpieces for the dinner canvas. With them are golden sunflowers, which brighten the entire room.

Some of the guests have already taken their seats. Folded cards with elaborately inked names are placed above each individual plate. When I find mine, I notice it’s by the head of the table, the King’s chair. Was this planned? Or was it by some random luck?

Realizing that nobody has arrived yet, I wonder if there will be many joining us. A server stops by and asks if I’d like something to drink. I tell him water. He blinks, like it’s strange that I didn’t order champagne or an expensive blend, and then bows out through the door behind him.

One by one the dinner guests file into the room, taking their reserved seats. More so down the table from me. The main door is opened, and a man enters, bellowing, “The King!” Everyone down the table stands. I mimic them.

Once King Zarek reaches his chair, he flicks his hand and everyone sits. I’m so close to his left, I can almost taste his spicy cologne.

“Ah, Andrina. So glad you could join us for dinner. I hope the food enlivens your taste buds.” He smiles warmly.

“I’m sure everything will be delicious.”

“You haven’t forgotten about our little tour, have you?”

Noisy carts are rolled from one of the side entrances, and several footmen elegantly rush to pick up trays of food.

“No, I haven’t forgotten. To be honest, I’m excited to see your kingdom.”

The feast is spread before us on the table—seared poultry, steaming vegetables, golden rolls the size of my hand and a sauce to pour over whatever we choose.

King Zarek takes a stab at his vegetables and while chewing his food, he says, “I think you’ll enjoy the sites my territory has to offer. Much better than that diminishing town you came from.”

Why is he so against Legora? What did those people ever do to him?

“You don’t sound too enthusiastic about towns other than your own,” I say, hoping it doesn’t come off as too bold.

“It’s not that I don’t like them; I’ve never even met their leaders. Maybe if they would send more dignitaries, instead of civilians, I’d consider offering aid.”

As if I don’t feel out of place as it is, he just made it worse. He wants men of political influence to consort with him, not filthy people who are the equivalent of servants. We know nothing of power and what it holds. It’s not like we chose this life; we were born into it.

And not everyone can be as lucky as the King.

My throat has inflated, and I can hardly swallow my chicken. I’ve completely lost my appetite. Why is he going to all this trouble of making me play games and giving me private chambers and taking me on tours of the grounds if he doesn’t appreciate the effort Legora spent to send me?

“I don’t say that to offend you. I just think it wise for leaders to speak to other leaders. They shouldn’t send their people to do their business. That doesn’t bode well with me,” he explains.

I kind of understand what he’s saying, but I want to make sure I didn’t make this trip for no reason.

“If you knew the leader of Legora wasn’t coming to see you, then why’d you let me stay?”

“I always welcome guests, my dear. Perhaps if you enjoy your stay, you might change your mind about living here.” He pretends to poke at his chicken.

I open my mouth and close it again, having no idea what to say. Had I mentioned something about making Valyad my home? I don’t remember.

By the time I work up enough courage to speak, King Zarek is in conversation with the man beside him, whom he diligently refers to as “Governor”. I’m sure the Governor is next in line to the throne. Seems like it’d be a job overseeing Valyad. I mean, King Zarek can’t do it all by himself, can he?

I’m not spoken to again until the main course is finished and it’s time for dessert. The boisterous carts are rolled through the doorways, and yet again footmen scramble to line trays along their arms. King Zarek is served first, followed by the Governor. It appears that whoever has a title eats first.

“Governor Hadi, have you been introduced to Andrina?” King Zarek asks, motioning toward me.

Governor Hadi sizes me up and down over the top of his spectacles. “Ah, yes. I wondered who you were. Never seen you in court before. You’re new, no doubt?”

I nod, and King Zarek interrupts me before I can reply.

“She comes to us from Legora.”

“Another city going to ruins?” Governor Hadi has a voice that sounds like rubbing salt between my fingers.

 “It wouldn’t be in ruins if the King would be so gracious and help us,” I blurt. Probably not a good idea, but it needed to be said.

King Zarek watches me for an extended period, then chuckles. “Andrina, I can’t send aid to all cities begging for relief. I just don’t have the funding.”

“Yet you can have jewel hunts in the middle of the day?” I snort. “Where do all those jewels come from anyway?”

For a second, Governor Hadi sounds like he’s choking, and then gulps his wine.

King Zarek gives me a phony smile. “I have areas under my control that farm for rare items of the Old World. Jewels, oil, coins—treasures to any man. And cities, such as your precious Legora, pay taxes to me.”

“I think you could cut out a lot of things in your—” But I’m cut short by the two fingers King Zarek holds up, signaling I’ve said too much.

I bite my tongue and use my spoon to shave off a bit of frozen sweetness, though I don’t eat it.

Governor Hadi clears his throat rather loudly. “What makes you believe your town is more qualified to receive the King’s blessing rather than these other towns that ask for it?”

“Sir, with all due respect, I just want to see my family fed. I don’t know if Legora needs materials more than any other towns because I don’t live in those places. I don’t know the hardships everyone else is going through right now. But I can tell you that I’ve looked Suffering directly in the eye, held hands with Hunger and wrestled with Death. None of them succeeded.”

Both men stare wide-eyed, forks in mid-air.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, Majesty, I’m feeling a bit tired,” I say, hoping he grants me leave from this stuffy room.

With one nod of his head, I take my cue and disappear.