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“I know. I’ll be better.”
“You will.” She says it in that tone that’s half encouragement, half command, but she definitely has to swallow a couple of times to get it out.
“I thought I might start with dinner tonight...” I bait the idea to see what reaction I will get.
“Yes. Wonderful!” She says the W like a V, and her excitement would be contagious if I didn't know it would be another evening of other people watching while I eat.
I want to ask why they even meet for dinner, but she is so happy and there is no tactful way to phrase the question. So instead, I nod my head.
“Perfect. It’s settled, then. Will you be there, too?”
“Not this night. I rest. You go.”
Unexpected nerves assault my stomach like the persistent flies down by the wharf, the ones that never leave you alone. But I’ve already decided this is the best course of action going forward. There’s hardly any sense in backing down now.
Chapter Twenty-One
Iwalk down to dinner, feeling stronger than I have in weeks. It’s amazing the difference it makes, being dressed for the occasion. Now that I’ve stopped shivering, it’s easier to focus on everything else.
Like how very badly I’ve gone about all of this.
My cloak, I wear like the armor I believe it was intended to be. In it, I am impervious not only to the cold, but to the judgments of everyone in this castle. Includinghim.
I refuse to think about the discomfort of sitting next to the king at dinner when I’ve only spoken to him once in weeks. It hardly makes a difference, I suppose, whether he’s ignoring me from behind my door or across a table.
But when I stride into the room with Khijhana at my side, my steps somehow weightier and more confident in the velvet boots than I had managed in my sheer, soundless, slippers, I realize I have no cause for concern.
No one is ignoring me, least of all the king.
A hush descends the moment my name is announced. The room has been rearranged so that the thirty or so courtiers gather around a single large table.
Every veiled and beaked face turns toward me in a unison that is almost unnerving. The face I’m looking for is neither beaked, nor veiled, but he wears a mask all the same, one that conceals far more than the silken ones of the court.
Even now, even after a lifetime of studying men for their motives, I cannot guess at what lies in his pale blue eyes. The rest of the court stands when I enter, but the king has not moved his body any more than his unreadable granite gaze has left my face.
There’s a subtle commotion. I realize the man next to him — Leif, according to the silver wolf sewn into his mask — has kicked him under the table. I’m sure I wasn’t meant to notice, and it looks like I’m the only one who has. Einar shoots him a wry glance and reluctantly gets to his feet.
For the sake of his people, I’m sure. It certainly isn’t for mine.
Nonetheless, I dip my head at him as though I appreciate his belated empty gesture and take my seat beside his.
I may not have understood before, how important it was that I play this part, but I do now. And sands-be-damned if I’ll let my pride — or his — stop me.
Though, his pride is a tricky thing to nail down. He is, after all, dining next to a servant this evening. Einar gives me a single, assessing glance before diverting his attention to Leif without a word.
“It is good see you this night, Con - Lady Zaina.” A timid voice comes from behind a veil with the insignia of a ship.
She stopped herself short of saying “consort.” Has someone explained that it’s an offensive term in the common tongue?Odger had certainly known that from the start, and I suspect the king had as well.
It would be good toseeher as well, but I can hardly say so without being rude, so I settle on a thank you. She turns back to her food, clearly embarrassed, even if I can’t make out her features.
There’s another shuffling noise to my right, and I can only surmise Leif has once again given the king a nudge toward propriety when Einar opens his mouth to speak.
“Indeed. How kind of you to join us.” His tone is so perfectly neutral, I can’t be sure if he’s being genuine or if it’s a jibe at the fact that I hadn’t before now.
I decide to pretend it’s the former, beaming a bright smile in his direction for the sparsely filled table to see.
“Well, Dear Husband, I figured I had left you in want of my company for long enough.”
