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As I approached, she turned to me and gave me a small, tight smile. “I’m glad you could make it, dear,” she said, air-kissing my cheeks.
I smiled politely at her and the others gathered around. “Thank you for having me.”
“Of course, of course,” the Queen Mother said, waving her hand dismissively. “Now, let’s get started, shall we? The show is about to start.”
∞∞∞
Eight hundred seats were arranged in a semicircle around the speaker’s podium, and every seat was filled. Banners of every faction hung from the ceiling, fluttering in an unseen breeze. A chandelier made of what appeared to be diamond shards hung overhead, casting a sparkling light over the crowd. Branching pathways led off in all directions, lined with more seats and more people.
On the stage, a man wearing a mask made of black feathers stood at the podium, his hands gripping the edges tightly. He waited for the chatter to die down before speaking, and when it did, his voice echoed through the Mentom. “Honored guests and members,” he began. “I welcome you to the Convergence of House Finardsil.”
Not everyone wore a mask, but many did. Those who didn’t were easy to spot, with their bright hair and clothes. They stood out like a sore thumb in the otherwise dark setting.
The man on stage continued speaking, his voice low and serious. “This is a time of significant change for Manzimor. We are at a crossroads, and the choices we make now will determine the course of our future.”
There was a murmur of agreement from the crowd, their voices echoing in the vast space.
It resembled a scene from a book. I half-expected someone to get stabbed in the back. On the balconies of the chamber, the representatives of the various factions stood. Some leaned on the railing, while others simply watched the proceedings with their arms crossed.
I sat in the front row, between the Queen Mother and the First Minister. As the highest-ranking members of the Crown and the government in attendance, respectively, they were the most important people in the hall.
The Queen Mother, clad in a dress of blood-red silk, leaned forward as her eyes scanned the crowd. A small smile played on her lips as if she knew something that the rest of us didn’t.
The First Minister Hyraem was a tall man with bronze curls and a crown of gold olive leaves. He stared ahead impassively, his arms folded across his chest.
None of us wore a mask, our faces clear for all to see. I couldn’t take my eyes off the speaker. He had an aura about him that was both commanding and magnetic. His voice echoed in the chamber as if amplified by some unseen power. “We are here today to discuss the unrest in Carthem.”
I leaned forward, my interest piqued. How much would they reveal in such a public setting?
“The situation is tense and with Izmir’s delegation, it is only getting worse,” the speaker continued. “What are we going to do about it?”
The crowd agreed that this was true, as they stomped their feet on the ground.
The Queen Mother grasped my hand, and I leaned toward her. “Izmir wishes to set up an embassy in Rossertham. The Mentom has always voted against it.”
More than half the room fought in the last war. Their memories of it still fresh in their minds. The others hadn’t, but they heard the stories. They had seen the scars. They had been there when the refugees came flooding into Rossertham.
“Izmir and Manzimor have been at odds for centuries,” the First Minister said, his voice low and grave. “And with good reason.”
His words hung in the air as the gravity of the situation sunk in. The room was silent as everyone waited for someone else to speak first.
He leaned forward, and I glimpsed a dragon tattoo on his forearm. Was he the dragon in my vision? Or was it just a coincidence?
“We must be careful not to provoke them,” the speaker said. “But we cannot appear weak. It is a delicate balance.”
I looked at the Queen Mother. “But the ambassador’s brother was only here two weeks ago?” I flushed as I realized my mistake. “Two days.”
The Queen Mother smiled indulgently at me. “We must tread carefully.”
She didn’t need to say it twice. I knew how important this was. We couldn’t risk anything happening to the fragile peace that we fought so hard to achieve.
“Honored guests,” the speaker said. “I now open the floor to discussion.”
A Guild member of the Fidelity rose to speak. “As you all know,” she said, her voice loud and clear. “Izmir is a key player in the eastern trade routes. With the recent unrest in Qarath, they can take advantage of the situation. We must not let them.”
The new Queen’s coronation had been a difficult, bloody affair, and the country was still in turmoil. Qarath was Manzimor’s principal trade partner in the east, with most of that trade flowing through Carthem. The unrest at the border would make three countries in a state of flux. It was a powder keg waiting to explode.
“I propose we send a delegation to Qarath,” the woman said. “To offer our support and show them we stand with them.”
