The girl faltered, her shoulders sagging under my pointed rebuke.
“Truth be told,” an elderly woman said, “it seems Prince Tallon has been absent from a great many duties.”
I bit my cheek, watching her pour steaming tea into a gold-rimmed cup, dropping two sugar cubes into the mix with deliberate care.
“King Kallias is filling in where the heir apparent avoids his responsibilities,” she continued, then brought me the drink, her eyes warm and open.
I searched her gaze, trying to detect any malice, but she wore a bright grin, her expression more critical of the prince than of me.
“His Highness has a great many responsibilities to see to.” Fyrn’sol threw a heated glance at the older woman, then reached over to place a pale hand over my own—her expression empathetic. “He was indisposed.”
Indisposed in his cups. I held in my sigh.
“We will have plenty of time to get to know each other,” I said, offering a nod that was more for show than belief. I took a sip of the tea, savoring the heat that spread through me.
I stayed with the women for several chimes while they discussed the intricacies of high court politics, absorbing names, places, and details that flitted through their conversation. No amount of royal study could prepare one for the realities of stepping into another kingdom, expected to know the subtle nuances of every discussion and gesture.
The younger noblewomen were easier to converse with—curious, eager to learn about Draconia and Ronan. The older women, however, held their judgment close. Their eyes were sharp, testing each word I spoke. I chose my replies with caution, sidestepping the unspoken jabs aimed at both me and Tallon.
Only once did I need to assert myself when a woman suggested the prince might have objected to the alliance.
“Noblewomen are not privy to the matters of kings,” I’d said, my voice steady but firm. The words held weight, even if I tempered them with a careful calm.
She blanched, then a furious crimson overtook her face before she rushed to apologize. I smiled, accepting it with grace, then shifted the conversation to the sweltering heat of summer and the vacations various nobles were planning.
After what felt like an eternity of polite discourse, I was relieved when they announced that the tea was gone.
I rose, smoothing my skirts, and offered the women a smile. “Thank you for having me, however, I must retire to prepare for the evening meal.”
Fyrn’sol nodded, offering her arm, and I linked mine with hers.
“It has been wonderful having your company! I’ll see you to your rooms.” She gave a nod of dismissal to the others. A chorus of goodbyes followed us, and two guards fell into step at our backs.
She heaved a sigh, her shoulders slumping a fraction. I couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh, then tilt my head, curious.
“I daresay, some of those women have fangs instead of teeth,” she muttered, rolling her eyes.
The gesture reminded me so much of Scythe that I had to swallow another laugh. “Older nobility always struggles with the next generation.”
“They could lift others up instead of judging so harshly,” she said with a half-grin, patting my hand again. “Call me Fyrn.”
The Sol family had been the most welcoming of all the nobles, even if her parents could talk about nothing but goats.
“I wanted to tell you,” she began, her voice softening as she glanced at me. “If you’d like to spend time with Tallon…”
I raised an eyebrow, prompting her to continue.
“He attends the midday council. King Kallias has ordered that he attend for the next week.”
Ordered. Not requested.
I tucked that piece of information away to ponder later. “I would love to sit in.”
“Allow me to escort you tomorrow. It would at least give you time to sit beside him,” she offered, her voice dropping a notch. “He can’t run from you there.”
I laughed, my lips curving into a wide smile. “I like your thinking. Besides, It will be a welcome opportunity to learn more about Radaan.”
“It’s quite boring—a bunch of old men talking about trade and boundaries,” Fyrn droned. “The perfect place for a nap.”
