“I understand,” she said as I slowed to a halt. “The green is beautiful, and his scales shine like the leaves of the Ele’for tree. My mother favors that shade. She would be enamored with him.”
Was she nudging me toward placing our smallest beast in Gog? A district that had already revealed its true nature?
“There’s more than color to consider when assigning a dragon and rider,” I replied, cool and clipped.
“Of course.” She dipped into a shallow curtsy. “Shall we paint again tomorrow? Their anatomy is so unique. I would welcome more time to study it.”
No. Something threaded beneath that request. My pulse jumped, thoughts scrambling as I tried to grasp what my instincts circled.
“A servant will deliver tomorrow’s agenda,” I said, offering a tight-lipped smile. “I must be on my way.”
“Thank you for speaking with me. I hope we can mend what our menfolk have damaged.”
“Verad’gog rose against the Chosen of the Gods.” My words snapped, sharp and unforgiving, my hand curling at my side.“Your sovereign returned to find that you allowed a snake to reach for his throne, and you stood by while it happened. The King of the Plentiful Plains damaged nothing. We are repairing the land scarred byyourdestruction.”
Any trace of compassion bled out of me, each sentence fueled by restrained fury.
“Mind your words, Penelope. Or you will have no home left to return to.”
Color drained from her face, leaving her pale and shaken. She dropped into a deep curtsy, skirts whispering against the floor. “Forgive me, Your Majesty. I spoke out of turn. It won’t happen again.” She turned to retreat, then caught herself, stiffening. She couldn’t depart without dismissal. Not after offending me.
I had no desire to prolong it. “Leave.”
Her dress swished down the corridor as she hurried away, fingers knotted in the silken folds.
My jaw tightened as I watched her go. The children would have to wait. Claus fell into step behind me as I changed direction, navigating the Golden Palace’s winding halls. Doubt followed close, the persistent sense that every turn led the wrong way.
Relief washed through me when I found the small kitchen tucked into the wall, the one Kallias favored.
The room was modest. A single stove dominated the space, spice racks crowded the walls; and fresh herbs dangled overhead. Glass jars lined the shelves, and the only seating consisted of two barrels shoved into a corner.
The cook hummed to himself, dark hair cropped close enough that his scalp showed through. Unbleached linen covered him, a patchwork apron hanging loose over simple clothes. He wasn’t meant for display. He worked in the quiet margins, providing for his king.
“Could you make kahve?”
The ladle flew from his hand as he startled, spinning toward me. One palm slapped the stove before he yanked it back with a sharp hiss. “Your Majesty!”
I pressed my lips together, amusement threatening to surface. The urge to reach out and assure him I meant no harm tugged at me, but I held it in check.
He dipped into a quick bow, then snatched the ladle from the floor and clutched it to his chest. Dark eyes flicked past me, catching on Claus, then returned. “Kahve?”
“Yes. For your king,” I clarified.
“Ah, but of course!” He turned at once, shuffling pots along the stove, then grabbed a canister from the shelf. “Where would you like me to send it, my queen?”
“I’ll bring it to him.” I stepped closer as he opened the jar.
“You… It will take a few moments.” He glanced sideways at me while measuring spoonfuls into a small pot of water.
“Those are kahve beans?” I asked, squinting at the dark granules.
“Ground, Your Majesty.” He lifted the jar to show me a spoonful, then dropped it back inside and sealed it. “The beans are roasted and ground into a powder.”
My hands clasped together as he returned the canister to the shelf. “Like tea.”
“Not quite.” He hesitated, expression knotting as he considered it. “Well, I wouldn’t say it is… though perhaps it could be called as such, since some teas are brewed from seeds.”
“Bean tea.” The words left me with a growing grin.
