Aria sat impatiently through breakfast the next morning. It was unrealistic to expect every message to arrive with theswiftness of the first, yet she found herself watching windows just the same, hoping to see a crow tap upon the glass.
“You seem in brighter spirits, dear,” said her mother from across the table. “A day in bed must have been just what you needed.”
Aria glanced at her father, sitting at the head of the table. It was the first time they’d all sat at a meal together in weeks; if her mother didn’t take meals in the music room, her father took them in his council chambers. Now the four of them sat together at a long dining table, indulging in heavy food and even heavier atmosphere.
“It was. Thank you, Mother.” For a moment, Aria’s hand forgot how to conduct a meal, reaching for her glass only to stop short and hover above her fork. In the end, she grabbed her napkin and dabbed at her mouth, though she’d spilled nothing.
Growing flustered. Mark.
Eliza leaned forward in her seat. “Father, I wonder if you might invite Earl Wycliff and his family to court.”
The king regarded her for a moment, taking a sip of wine. “What prompts this request?”
“I desire a view of his second-youngest son. The most handsome of the bunch.” Eliza didn’t bother to conceal her grin.
As their father chuckled, so did Aria.
“Henry, isn’t it? He’s made no formal request to court you.”
“Then give him an opportunity! Something where he may display heroic attributes and I may praise all of them.” Eliza interlaced her fingers, pleading. “Please, Father. You keep the earl so busy, he rarely hosts events of his own. I’ll never see Henry at this rate.”
“Perhaps a sporting competition,” Aria suggested, not at all because she was thinking of a certain green-eyed gentleman and the dress sword he carried.
“Yes, that’s perfect! Henry is an accomplished jouster!” Whentheir father raised an eyebrow, Eliza amended, “Lord Henry. It’s not as though I’ve seen his skill in action, only heard it spoken of.”
The king grunted. “I suppose Kendall claims some jousting skill as well. The two of you could fawn over suitors together.”
Aria filled her mouth with eggs to avoid reply.
“It’s growing cold for a joust,” said the queen. “If it’s court events we desire, a musical exhibition would be more appropriate.”
The king kept his eyes on his plate. “No, we shall hold a joust. We’ll do it quickly, while the weather permits. The matter is decided.”
“The matter is always decided with only your voice.”
“Perhaps because I tire of hearing yours, echoing at every hour in the music room.”
Aria’s hand tightened on her fork. Eliza nudged bits of parsley to the edge of her plate with the concentration of a surgeon.
The queen maintained a pleasant expression, pushing her plate away with her fingertips. “I find myself without appetite. Not a problem you’ve ever experienced.”
She left.
Aria’s mouth had gone dry around her quail eggs, and she struggled to swallow. She had raised her glass to drink when her father spoke.
“Aria.”
She fought to maintain her focus. “Yes, Father?”
“I’ve considered your situation.”
Eliza perked up but remained silent.
“Eliza, leave us.”
“Father—”
At his look, she gathered her plate and moved into the smaller, adjoining dining hall. Once the door closed behind her, the king returned his gaze to Aria.
