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His skin was even paler than the Northmen that reached our harbors. He was the palest person I ever saw. He was also the tallest, with a broad frame and an imposing presence. They said he was a warrior of renowned skill, and it showed in his bearing.
While I observed them, their eyes lingered on me for a moment. I shifted in my seat, and Darith placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder.
“Tell us about yourself, Princess Thimsal,” Queen Menthe said, her voice soft and inviting. “What is your favorite poem?”
I hesitated, as the question surprised me. I didn’t want them to think less of me. First impressions were important. But Darith’s hand was still on my shoulder, and it gave me the strength to speak.
“I like the poem ‘My Mother’s wisdom’ by Safiya Sultani,” I said, choosing one of my favorites. “I think it’s beautiful how she captures the nuances of a mother’s love.”
And Queen Menthe loved her only child dearly. That was well known.
“An excellent choice,” Queen Menthe said, her voice laced with approval. “Safiya is one of my favorite poets as well. Her work captures the essence of what it means to be a woman.”
His father narrowed his eyes. “As for craftsmanship?”
“Right now, I would like to get to know the people of all corners of Manzimor and learn about their culture and traditions.” I plastered a smile on my face. “I think it’s important to understand where someone comes from before you can truly appreciate their art.”
The Queen Mother’s eyes twinkled as she observed us. “A wise answer. But it’s time to stop interrogating our guest and let her enjoy her meal.”
On that cue, servants brought out the food. They laded the long table with platters of roasted meats, rice, vegetables, fruits, cheeses, and loaves of bread. Servants hurried as they filled our glasses with wine and drinks. The amount of food surprised me.
It reminded me of home. Showing your appreciation with a full belly was an old Midarian tradition. But the lack of guests made me wonder if this was a special occasion or if they always ate like this.
A group of musicians played quietly in the background. Harps, flutes, and drums filled the air with a soothing melody. A traditional melody from the east of the region, Maeden.
The conversation flowed around me. They chatted about the weather and the upcoming festival. His grandmother asked me about the roses of Midar and, baffled, I told her the little I knew about them. That wasn’t a conversation I expected to have.
“The roses of Midar differ from ours,” Queen Laylath said, her face thoughtful. “But I can see the beauty in all of them.”
I raised my eyebrow. Were we just talking about roses?
I felt relieved when the conversation steered away from me and towards Queen Menthe’s latest project. She was planning a diplomatic soiree in two weeks to welcome the new ambassador from Qarath. Rumors of unrest in Qarath had reached Midar. Was this connected to it?
Prince Maedras clapped his hands together. The ruby stone on his ring shimmered in the light. “It should be a grand affair. I’m looking forward to it.”
“As am I.” Queen Menthe bobbed her head. “The guest list and the last details are almost finished.”
“I’m sure it will be lovely,” I said, trying to sound enthusiastic.
Queen Menthe smiled at me.”There’s no need for you to attend. I know how tedious these things can be, and you are not ready yet.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.”
I wasn’t sure if I felt grateful or insulted. But I was glad I didn’t have to attend a formal event yet.
Feeling famished, I wondered why no one ate. I looked down at my plate, unsure of what to do. After what felt like an eternity, Queen Menthe finally took the first bite. Everyone else followed suit. The rice seemed like a safe choice.
My mouth burned, and I needed water. I grabbed my glass, but before I took a sip, I discovered it was brimming with wine rather than water.
“Please, do not tell me, you gave her wine.” The Queen Mother looked at the servants. Prince Aldaren sighed and the Queen mother continued. “Midarians don’t drink. It’s an insult to offer her wine. Have we lost all sense of decency?”
“My most sincere apologies.” The servant who gave me the wine looked contrite. “I wasn’t aware.”
“It’s alright.” I looked at the red liquid in my glass and then back at the Queen Mother. “It’s an honest mistake.”
“Drinking is a sign of maturity,” Prince Aldaren explained. “It shows that you are an adult, and can handle the responsibilities that come with it.”
I thought about what he said for a moment. I was familiar with the concept. But it wasn’t something that we did in Midar. It was unseemly to drink in settings like these. What you did in the comfort of your own home was one thing, but to do it in public was bad manners.
