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A chair scrapes over the floor, and I sit down at one end of the table. D’Artaron is around somewhere, that’s for certain. Frederick isn’t, for if he were, I’m sure he wouldn’t appreciate another male’s presence this evening.
I fold my hands on my lap and wait for the male to arrive and take the seat at the other end. For a long time, nobody appears, and my posture, all stiff and proper, begins to weigh on me.
The staff wait too, but I can tell even they’re starting to get restless. Two of them scratch their noses. One of them taps his foot. Another, the short server near me, keeps clicking his tongue at an older male across from him. An odd way of communicating to be sure but to each his own.
In the kitchen, the chefs, however, continue prepping the meal. I think it might be lamb.
When the music stops and the staff turn awkward glances on me, I realize they’re all waiting for me to do something. Trouble is, I have no idea what.
“Excuse me,” I say to the older male, the one the staff seem to regard the most.
When he doesn’t acknowledge me, I repeat. “Excuse me.”
Blue eyes drift to me, then focus on the floor. “Milady?”
“Did I arrive early?”
Blond hair slicked back and kept in place with oils makes his blue eyes stand out in a severe manner. He fixes the lapels of his uniform. “My king is coming.”
These are Frederick’s people. His valet, perhaps? “I shall wait longer, then.”
The male nods and remains standing.
And so I wait. I wait until my belly rumbles, and I grow angry with Frederick for his lateness. I’m also angry with myself for accepting the invitation. Claudette wouldn’t have accepted until she was sure she owned the male’s attention without any reservations. My sister is cunning, and the commander is right: I should’ve brought her in before this stupid dinner.
Damned be my jealousy of her prior relationship with D’Artaron. This is a matter of life and death now. And also humiliating.
When I grow hungry and start feeling bad for the people who prepared what I’m certain is a wonderful feast, I order a meal. “I will start with wine. Red and strong from the vineyard in my province. I’d like cold cuts and some yellow cheese. For the meal, roast lamb and rosemary-tossed garlic potatoes with mixed green salad and a soft citrus dressing topped with soft aged cheese.”
The late Spring queen ordered in this fashion. This is one of her meals, and I’m happy to have memorized it. The staff will remember as well, and I hope they’ll find it familiar and therefore soothing. For all her faults, the queen took care of her staff, sometimes giving them lands and homes, always on the lookout for fae who would repay her generosity whenever she called.
Expecting the service staff to approach with wine, I lean back in my seat.
Having finished their preparations, I presume, the males in the kitchen simply stand.
As does the service staff.
“A glass of wine, please,” I say directly to the older male, who’s moved to stand behind the king’s seat. His valet, for sure.
“The king is not here,” he says.
“I can see that.”
“We wait.”
“I’ve waited for longer than propriety dictates.”
“There is no propriety when it comes to waiting for your king.”
He isn’t my king. I don’t say that. “You are refusing to serve me?”
Nobody answers, but their silence tells me they can’t.
Frederick has stood me up. He invited me for dinner when he had no intention of appearing. He sent all his staff and ordered them not to serve me, and when I leave hungry, they’ll gossip about this all over the city. I imagine they’ll say that the queen dines alone like a big loser. A simpleton with no husband or heirs to claim a throne. Not even magic now that the commander took it.
Frustrated, I push the plate away. It slides off the table and crashes to the floor.
Feeling liberated, I swipe across the table, taking down the silverware, other plates, utensils, glassware, and a large candleholder. Oil spills and ignites into flames, and the light calls to me, my magic sparkling randomly on my body. I lash out, but nothing happens, so I try again. This time, magic spreads through my veins, its light making me glow.
