Page 76 of The Pleasure Contract

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The Grand Dining Hall is as it always is. My father would make us eat with him in here on our visits, even though I know he prefers to take his meals in the much more relaxed royal chambers.

The table is central to the room, sweeping and long. In its entirety, I’d say it’s about the length of an adult drak’s wing, and can seat a dizzying amount of guests on either side. Everything in here is dark – the polished wood of the furniture, the very few floating lighting orbs sparsely dotted around giving off a warm amber glow, and the heavy curtains blocking out any outside light that might infiltrate the darkness.

As I grew older, I’d started to wonder if that darkness was by design. Would it woo my father’s dinner guests into comfort? Comfort enough for murmured words about their court dealings? Comfort enough to be persuaded on a matter for our lawmakers?

I do not know. But if that is the case, I hope my Lois can use it to her advantage and get Glex to listen to her people’s plight with a sympathetic ear.

He sits opposite me now, smiling and tilting his head to hear my Lois better.

Unfortunately, it made sense that she should sit beside him if she’s to bring him to her cause.

Even more unfortunate, Zyre is seated to the other side of her.

No matter. He seems to read my warning glares for what they are every time he ducks his shoulder to talk to her.

I very nearly insist that we rearrange the seating when the palace staff announces my father’s presence, and we all stand to bow for his entry.

“Welcome! Welcome!” my father calls, lifting his arms for his maleservants to relieve him of his heavily embroidered cloak. “I am so pleased to receive you all this evening. Please, be seated. We will fill our bellies with good food and wine, and fill our minds with even better conversation!”

With that, chairs scrape across the floor as we seat ourselves, the tablescape filling with the low murmured voices of around five dozen guests.

“I am very glad you accepted this invitation, son,” my father says to me as he sets his linen on his lap and readjusts the jeweled silver wine goblet of his place setting. “I know how busy you usually are.”

I assess him for a moment, not sure if that was sincere or a comment on how I always make a point to avoid him whenever I can. Deciding I cannot conclude either way, I simply state the facts. “Lois wanted to come.”

His astute eyes flick over to where my female is successfully engaging Glex in conversation. “Hm, yes,” he says, tilting his head as he regards her. “These humans do certainly seem like a particularly persuasive species.”

I roll my eyes and swipe my drink as soon as the cup is filled. “Kiahn and Niska are doing well, father, thanks for asking.”

He works his jaw as he stares at me, both of us knowing full well he didn’t ask, and wasn’t about to.

My father then does something I’ve never seen him do before – instead of coming back with a chastising remark, his shoulders sag, and he lets out a long sigh.

I glance around the table to see if anyone else had just witnessed the same, but it’s at that moment that the meals arrive. My father’s strange behavior seems to have gone unnoticed as everyone’s preoccupied with whatever thrice-glazed meat served on a bed of roasted, spiced vegetables just appeared before them.

When I look back at the king, he’s already meeting my eyes. There’s a softness to them that looks completely foreign on his features.

“She would always make the most of her double set of horns, you know?” he says, making my mind come to a sudden, crashing halt.

I can feel my brows pinch together as I frown.

“Of course, being a female, hers were more dainty than yours,” he continues. “But she was ever so proud to carry that trait. She had these certain horn caps that had strings of beads and golden chains that looped between all four of her horns.”

“I remember.” The hoarse words had been mine from my very own mouth, but I’d said them without thought.

The king smiles a real smile.

“Do you remember how she would attach little charms or bells on the chains sometimes?” he asks, his features soft, almost as if he is on the verge of an actual laugh. “She told me once she wore the bells as a warning – so that I could hear her coming to put me in my place and that I’d better watch out.”

“That sounds like her,” I say, a little stunned that he is willingly talking about my mother with me.

One corner of his mouth lifts. “Whenever I hear the tinkle of bells, I think she may be just around the corner, waiting to clip me around the horns for my own stupidity.”

In awe, I glance to one of my father’s maleservants who is standing to his side, silently questioning the male about this rare show of vulnerability from the king. He simply gives me a short shake of his head.

“I am glad you inherited her horns,” my father says, taking a sip of his wine. “I wish all three of you had inherited more of her, if truth be told.”