The Winter King
Page 79
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She looked up and captured Reika Villani’s gaze with her own. “I did not retire from the banquet hall last night because I feared you. I left because I feared what I might do to you if I stayed.” Curling clouds of steam rose up before her face. She saw Reika glance down, saw her eyes widen in shock at the sight of Khamsin’s tea bubbling madly in its cup. “Do not make yourself my enemy,” she concluded softly. “Do not poach what I have claimed as mine.”
Dark movement glimpsed from the corner of her eye made Khamsin turn. Bella stood in the doorway. “Your bath is ready, Your Majesty,” she said.
“Thank you, Bella.” Kham set the teacup down on a small lamp table near Reika’s frozen figure. “And thank you for coming, Lady Villani. Our discussion has been very enlightening. I hope I’ve made my position clear. Bella will show you out.”
Fired up by her confrontation with Reika Villani, Kham waved aside the pale cream gown Bella had laid out for this morning’s luncheon with the ladies of the court and chose instead to garb herself in bright, vivid, Summerland colors. Thus armored, she marched down to the small banquet hall where the ladies had gathered and met their cool gazes, head-on. She had not come to these people as a supplicant, but as a queen. Their queen—even if only for the next twelve months. They would give her the respect and deference due her station.
Something of that determination must have shown on her face because the ladies all curtsied deeply upon her arrival and regarded her with wariness.
“Your Grace, this way, please.” Lady Firkin gestured towards the table. “You were so tired from your journey. I thought a more informal luncheon today would be a good way to introduce you to the ladies of the court.”
Kham eyed the banquet table, laden with extravagant gold, silver, and crystal place settings, each chair attended by a private footman. This was informal? She hesitated to think what a dinner of state might look like. But she murmured something polite to acknowledge Lady Firkin’s thoughtfulness.
For the next forty-five minutes, Kham pasted a pleasant expression and did her best to contain her restlessness as Lady Firkin introduced her to the ladies of the court. Tildy had spent countless hours training Khamsin for just such an event. A princess of the Rose was expected to be a gracious hostess of her father’s kingdom, and in keeping with those duties, she was expected to remember names, titles, and other pertinent information about the courtiers and guests who frequented her father’s court.
Unfortunately, Kham had never been particularly good at those lessons, and though she was careful to repeat each lady’s name three times and came up with mnemonics to tie the name and the face together (Crooked nose, Lady Ros. Catty smile, Lady Wyle), it didn’t take long for her to become overwhelmed. There were only a handful of ladies she remembered from yesterday’s introductions: Lady Firkin, the tall, imposing priestess Galacia Frey, and, of course, Reika Villani, who was there, smiling as if she and Khamsin had not just squared off as enemies less than two hours ago.
Aware that this morning’s confrontation with Valik’s cousin had only been the first salvo in their personal war, Khamsin watched Reika from the corner of her eye, noting which of the ladies paused to speak with her and which sat closest to her. Kham had no doubt Reika would use every tool in her arsenal to achieve victory, including conscripting her friends into her service. Since Khamsin couldn’t very well go around asking everyone if they were Reika’s confidantes, she would simply have to be observant and take care to watch her back.
Turning to the Winterlady at her side—what was her name? Oh, yes, crooked nose, Lady Ros— Khamsin said, “Tell me a little about yourself, Lady Ros. Where are you from and how long have you been at court?”
Finally, a quiet gong called the ladies to luncheon. Khamsin took the queen’s seat at the head of the table, conscious of the many eyes upon her as the servants offered her all manner of strange, unfamiliar dishes. She tried to steer clear of foodstuffs she couldn’t identify or those with an odd smell, especially after the fishy aroma of several different seafood dishes left her feeling rather green about the gills.
“You don’t like fish, Your Grace?” Reika Villani asked after Kham waved away a particularly odiferous mackerel dish. “How unfortunate. Seafood is a staple of every Wintercraig meal.” Her tone made Khamsin’s aversion sound like a calamitous shortcoming.
Kham’s jaw clenched. “Quite the contrary, I love fish,” she declared, and just to wipe the mocking, superior smile off Reika Villani’s face, she forced herself to accept a portion of the next fish dish that came her way. Though the smell and texture made her want to retch, she ate several bites, holding Reika Villani’s gaze the whole time.
Two seats down on Khamsin’s right, Galacia Frey watched the visual skirmish between Reika and Kham, and when it was over, she gave Kham what looked like an approving nod and tucked into her own meal. Kham would have basked in what felt like a small victory, except that for the rest of the meal, what she’d eaten kept trying to make a reappearance. Outside, pale gray clouds began to gather in the clear, sunny sky.
After the meal, Galacia Frey took her leave, and the rest of the women retired to the gathering room next door to work on needlecrafts and socialize. Khamsin was hopeless with a needle and woefully inadequate as a casual conversationalist. Her questions sounded more like interrogations, and because she was so uncertain as to which ladies were Reika Villani’s cronies, her own answers were so guarded they came across as curt and off-putting.
Dark movement glimpsed from the corner of her eye made Khamsin turn. Bella stood in the doorway. “Your bath is ready, Your Majesty,” she said.
“Thank you, Bella.” Kham set the teacup down on a small lamp table near Reika’s frozen figure. “And thank you for coming, Lady Villani. Our discussion has been very enlightening. I hope I’ve made my position clear. Bella will show you out.”
Fired up by her confrontation with Reika Villani, Kham waved aside the pale cream gown Bella had laid out for this morning’s luncheon with the ladies of the court and chose instead to garb herself in bright, vivid, Summerland colors. Thus armored, she marched down to the small banquet hall where the ladies had gathered and met their cool gazes, head-on. She had not come to these people as a supplicant, but as a queen. Their queen—even if only for the next twelve months. They would give her the respect and deference due her station.
Something of that determination must have shown on her face because the ladies all curtsied deeply upon her arrival and regarded her with wariness.
“Your Grace, this way, please.” Lady Firkin gestured towards the table. “You were so tired from your journey. I thought a more informal luncheon today would be a good way to introduce you to the ladies of the court.”
Kham eyed the banquet table, laden with extravagant gold, silver, and crystal place settings, each chair attended by a private footman. This was informal? She hesitated to think what a dinner of state might look like. But she murmured something polite to acknowledge Lady Firkin’s thoughtfulness.
For the next forty-five minutes, Kham pasted a pleasant expression and did her best to contain her restlessness as Lady Firkin introduced her to the ladies of the court. Tildy had spent countless hours training Khamsin for just such an event. A princess of the Rose was expected to be a gracious hostess of her father’s kingdom, and in keeping with those duties, she was expected to remember names, titles, and other pertinent information about the courtiers and guests who frequented her father’s court.
Unfortunately, Kham had never been particularly good at those lessons, and though she was careful to repeat each lady’s name three times and came up with mnemonics to tie the name and the face together (Crooked nose, Lady Ros. Catty smile, Lady Wyle), it didn’t take long for her to become overwhelmed. There were only a handful of ladies she remembered from yesterday’s introductions: Lady Firkin, the tall, imposing priestess Galacia Frey, and, of course, Reika Villani, who was there, smiling as if she and Khamsin had not just squared off as enemies less than two hours ago.
Aware that this morning’s confrontation with Valik’s cousin had only been the first salvo in their personal war, Khamsin watched Reika from the corner of her eye, noting which of the ladies paused to speak with her and which sat closest to her. Kham had no doubt Reika would use every tool in her arsenal to achieve victory, including conscripting her friends into her service. Since Khamsin couldn’t very well go around asking everyone if they were Reika’s confidantes, she would simply have to be observant and take care to watch her back.
Turning to the Winterlady at her side—what was her name? Oh, yes, crooked nose, Lady Ros— Khamsin said, “Tell me a little about yourself, Lady Ros. Where are you from and how long have you been at court?”
Finally, a quiet gong called the ladies to luncheon. Khamsin took the queen’s seat at the head of the table, conscious of the many eyes upon her as the servants offered her all manner of strange, unfamiliar dishes. She tried to steer clear of foodstuffs she couldn’t identify or those with an odd smell, especially after the fishy aroma of several different seafood dishes left her feeling rather green about the gills.
“You don’t like fish, Your Grace?” Reika Villani asked after Kham waved away a particularly odiferous mackerel dish. “How unfortunate. Seafood is a staple of every Wintercraig meal.” Her tone made Khamsin’s aversion sound like a calamitous shortcoming.
Kham’s jaw clenched. “Quite the contrary, I love fish,” she declared, and just to wipe the mocking, superior smile off Reika Villani’s face, she forced herself to accept a portion of the next fish dish that came her way. Though the smell and texture made her want to retch, she ate several bites, holding Reika Villani’s gaze the whole time.
Two seats down on Khamsin’s right, Galacia Frey watched the visual skirmish between Reika and Kham, and when it was over, she gave Kham what looked like an approving nod and tucked into her own meal. Kham would have basked in what felt like a small victory, except that for the rest of the meal, what she’d eaten kept trying to make a reappearance. Outside, pale gray clouds began to gather in the clear, sunny sky.
After the meal, Galacia Frey took her leave, and the rest of the women retired to the gathering room next door to work on needlecrafts and socialize. Khamsin was hopeless with a needle and woefully inadequate as a casual conversationalist. Her questions sounded more like interrogations, and because she was so uncertain as to which ladies were Reika Villani’s cronies, her own answers were so guarded they came across as curt and off-putting.
