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"Who are you, Padget? A simple Praldian attendant would never offer such wisdom."
Lowering her eyes, Padget rose and stepped away. When I looked to Jervaise, still shaking, he shrugged. "She is the prince's half-sister. His father enjoyed some fun here before we settled. Padget was the outcome. Prince Saboa brought her to the palats when it was finished, and she has grown up here. Still, due to her illegitimacy, she will never be recognized and is forbidden to claim her bloodline."
"Oh." I looked at Padget, taking her hand. "Well met, Sister."
Smiling, Padget pushed me towards Jervaise. "Get going. Your prince is waiting."
Taking my elbow in his hand, Jervaise forced me to keep up with his stride. Another elite guard named Clovis fell in on my other side. He was the first Cyran I'd met with light eyes. He looked over my head to Jervaise. "Are we expecting trouble?"
"I suspect so. Luther has half the Elite waiting in the throne room and encircled the public channels with the royal guards."
"They don't really expect to just walk in here, demand her, and for us to hand her over after all this time, surely?" Clovis's tone was full of sarcasm, another unnatural characteristic for a Cyran.
"Yes," I answered for them, "that's exactly what they expect."
We passed through the luxuriously furnished private entertaining area, primarily used by guards on watch duty since Saboa rarely brought anyone into his quarters. All of his friends were elite since Luther was still an elite guard for his father, so they were who he hung out with.
Marching through the apartment door, we stepped onto the lift pad and, in under a second, we dropped the four levels to the ground floor. Grasped my stomach, I looked up, trying not to vomit. I felt like I'd left my innards on the top floor. Usually, the guards smirked at my discomfort, telling me I'd get used to it, but today they were on high alert. There would be no jesting until the Avalonian Ambassador left our system.
On the ground floor, four more elite joined the escort. Two in front, two beside me, and two behind because I wasn't allowed out of the residence without six guards minimum. Hartwin took Clovis's place beside me, taking up my other elbow and giving it a reassuring squeeze.
"You will never for a minute be in danger, Princess," he assured me quietly. I didn't trust my voice not to give away just how terrified I was, so I kept my mouth shut. The ice floor cracking loudly with so many feet sounded ominous enough.
As we were in the last section of the corridor before the throne room, I heard the buzz of the public channels come to life. Stepping to the window anxiously, I noted five of the public access points lit up announcing incoming teleports.
"Princess," Hartwin squeezed my elbow.
Turning towards the throne room, I started running, my guard catching quickly, flanking me again. I ran until I entered the throne room, then kept a fast pace until I reached the three steps to the throne. At the bottom, I stopped and curtsied low out of habit, which made the watching council chuckle, whispering about me knowing my place.
Rising, Luther took my hand, drawing me up the steps to stand before him. Kissing my forehead, he put his mouth to my ear. "Stay to my left and slightly behind the throne. If anything looks out of place, you let me know by touching my shoulder. If they are stupid enough to attack, then you get behind the throne. The elite will protect you."
Over Luther's shoulder, twenty elite guards stood on alert. Hartwin and the others who escorted me were joining their ranks directly behind where I would be. Standing where I was directed, I tried to calm my nerves while Saboa retook his seat. Once Luther scanned the room, he signaled Stark to come closer and report.
"The ship landed in the diplomatic airfield. Five Avalonian men disembarked, approaching the public channels. The ship is refueling, so it appears they have no intention of staying here any longer than it takes to deliver their message."
Saboa nodded. "Stand by the Princess."
"Yes, Prince Saboa." Stark moved to stand at my left-hand side.
Most days that I'd been in the courtroom, it was during open court where any one of the citizens could step into the petitioner's circle, and the Prince would hear them. On those days, the throne room was so packed you couldn't breathe without touching someone. Today Saboa was meeting with councilmen and other elected representatives of Praldia to discuss infrastructure. They didn't even fill a third of the room. Still, they were obviously annoyed at having to put their discussions on hold for an uninvited diplomatic envoy.
On the few times I had turned up at the palace demanding to see the prince outside of open court, I'd been forced to wait. Sometimes it took hours before Saboa would meet me in whatever courtyard one of the royal guards escorted me to. I never considered before now that I was never turned away. The guard that greeted me would simply mention my presence in his comms, receive an answer and escort me, informing me the prince would see me when he could. Saboa was just a caring prince who made time for his people. How utterly naïve was I?
"Ambassador Tudal of Avalonia and his envoy," a Praldian voice announced. Saboa hired Praldians throughout his palats. The only Cyrans he'd brought with him were his soldiers. Every other Cyran on Praldia immigrated after settlement. Still, I'd never seen one on staff in the palats except for the three who sat on his council.
Four Avalonian men all wearing the official robes of Avalonia marched into the throne room, sure and intent. All were of the powerless barbarian race. Instead of the star of power beneath their eyes, they bore dark blue tattoos over half their faces to indicate their tribe. Putting a hand out to steady myself using the back of Saboa's chair, I didn't even realize I'd half-stepped behind it until Stark touched my elbow. It was a subtle connection to remind me he was there, and I was safe.
The ambassador's envoy stopped in the petitioner's circle, fanning out. They bowed politely, but the ambassador's eyes were scanning the room. When they found me, he beamed with self-congratulations. "Princess Zira, you've grown up beautifully. Your Companion, the King, will be overjoyed with your beauty."
Grumbles of disgust broke out amongst the councilmen. It was blatant rudeness not to have addressed the Prince first. Avalonians were known for politeness and formality. This ambassador just disgraced my entire race within two sentences.
Cocking a brow, Saboa assessed the ambassador. "Have Avalonians lost all their civility under the Barbarian's rule? You come here claiming ambassadorship, then immediately insult the throne by not even addressing me. I suppose, if I were to visit the throne of Avalonia, I would find you all eating dead carcasses with your hands and raping children on the throne room floor?"
The last was a personal stab for what they tried to do to me, and if the scowl on his face was any indication, the Ambassador recognized it. Tudal balked at Saboa's words, looking from me to the Prince. "Prince Saboa," Tudal recovered, bowing low, "forgive my rudeness. I was just taken with how much our Princess has grown."
Saboa didn't reply, a clear announcement that the rudeness was not forgiven.
"Prince Saboa, I'm sorry to announce I bring sad tidings. It would seem that you have joined with a woman who already has a companion. Therefore, by law, your joining is void. The King wishes his companion to return with us and resume her duties as his queen."
