The King’s Guards led Lady Zeroah and Mielle to the private dining room on the second floor of Castle Everton. It was a spacious room with walls paneled in royal-blue silk piped with stripes of gold. A large iron fireplace divided the end wall. The floor was polished stone with a huge silk rug featuring Nesher the sunbird covering much of it.
A long stone table in the center of the room was set for four, two on each side, with bronze bowls clustered in the center. A candelabra hung overhead, filled with dozens of thin taper candles. The light reflected off the bronze dishes, making everything gleam.
Zeroah’s guards remained outside, while a bowl boy seated them on the fireplace side of the table. The chairs were wickerwork and cushioned in blue-and-gold brocade. Mielle eyed the empty chair across the table. Prince Trevn would sit there. She tried to recall if he looked anything like Wilek. She had barely seen him the first time and had been too embarrassed to take much notice the second.
Since her first day in Zeroah’s service, Mielle had done all she could to ease Zeroah’s jitters around Prince Wilek. Tonight it was Mielle’s turn to be nervous. Prince Trevn had winked at her. Twice. She had told no one, of course. Surely he had meant nothing by it. Flara had said that Prince Trevn was known as the Explorer Prince. That he was full of mischief and climbed the castle walls like a squirrel. Having seen him atop their carriage, Mielle did not doubt it.
The bowl boy returned. “May I present Wilek-Sâr, the First Arm of Armania.”
Lady Zeroah pushed back her chair and stood. Mielle hurriedly copied her. She felt massive in a bright orange-and-green silk dress beside petite Zeroah in her elegant gold gown.
Wilek entered, resplendent in a blue tunic with gold accents. Mielle complimented herself on how well the gold dress she had chosen for Zeroah matched his ensemble.
Zeroah curtsied deeply to Wilek, and, again, Mielle copied her. She caught sight of Kal out in the hallway. No sign of Prince Trevn.
Mielle’s heart sank, figuring he had decided not to come, but then she heard the sound of distant footsteps, pounding nearer, running. Wilek and Zeroah turned to the doorway, all three of them ensnared by the commotion.
A gangly boy bounded into the room and slowed to a dramatic stop, cheeks flushed maroon. He panted and grinned, lifted one hand in a casual wave. “Hello,” he said, his voice low and pleasant.
“Lady Zeroah and Miss Mielle, I present my brother Trevn,” Wilek said.
Prince Trevn Hadar was a hand taller than his brother and all arms and legs. Both princes had dark brown skin, brown eyes, and black hair, but that was where the similarities ended. Wilek’s hair had been cornrowed into five warrior’s braids that were bound at the nape of his neck. His features were narrow, his eyes and mouth small. He stood with stately posture, his tunic and trousers crisp and smooth.
Trevn’s hair was shorter, perhaps chin-length. It was tied back high on his head and poofed out like a rabbit’s tail. He had a long neck that seemed longer with such short hair. His face was round, as were his nose, cheeks, and eyes. Even his ears were round, and they stuck out a bit too far on the sides of his head. He wore a dark blue tunic with gold buttons and black trousers. His clothes were wrinkled. The top two buttons on his tunic weren’t fastened. In fact, the top button was missing altogether, a loose thread the only sign it had ever existed.
“Pleased to see you again, Sâr Trevn,” Zeroah said.
“Indeed, lady,” he said. “Strange that we lived so long in each other’s realms.”
“But no longer,” Zeroah said. “We both call Everton home now.”
He nodded and glanced at Mielle.
A jab to her side made her jump. Caught staring! Zeroah shot her a wide-eyed glare and bobbed her knees a little.
The curtsy! Mielle’s cheeks flamed. She curtsied to Prince Trevn, trying not to dip as low as she had for Wilek. She wobbled. Oh, tuhsh. What must he think of her?
She could speak now, since both had spoken. Right? “Pleased to meet you, Sâr Trevn.” She added another curtsy, hoping it made up for the lateness of her first.
Trevn chuckled, and she glanced at Zeroah. Had she done something wrong?
“Shall we sit?” Wilek suggested, and as they took their seats, she watched Trevn looking around.
“I’ve never eaten in here. In fact, I didn’t even know this room existed before tonight.”
“But don’t they call you the Explorer Prince?” Mielle asked. “I’d have thought you would’ve inspected every room of the castle by now.”
He smirked, which made his ears stick out more. “Dining rooms are only interesting when they’re full.”
“Full of people or full of food?”
“Yes.”
Mielle laughed. “So, if you hadn’t been invited here tonight, you might have come anyway, drawn by the sound of people’s voices and the smells of food?”
“That’s doubtful. I prefer my chambers at night.”
“Really? Why? I would think you—”
“Miss Mielle.”
Zeroah’s scolding tone turned Mielle’s head. “Yes, lady?”
“You must not badger the sâr with questions,” Zeroah said softly.
Mielle blinked, confused. Hadn’t that been the plan? Both princes were watching her now. “Forgive me, Your Highnesses, if I did something improper,” she said. “I’ve never been to a private dinner before.”
Trevn laughed deeply and slouched in his chair, tipped it back on two legs, and held the table with his thumb and two fingers. “Think nothing of it, Miss Mielle. It’s nice to talk to someone who isn’t all rules and perfect manners. In fact . . .” His chair fell forward and clumped against the floor. “I hereby abolish all rules for this evening. We shall each say whatever we want without fear of giving offense.”
“Trevn is a revolutionary,” Wilek told Zeroah. “Someday he will write new laws.”
“Really?” Trevn asked. “Me?”
“You’d rather Janek do the job?”
“Only if you want advice on debauchery.”
Wilek cleared his throat. “Well, if Lady Zeroah does not mind, we can neglect protocol tonight.”
Mielle thrilled at the idea of omitting the rules for one evening. “Could we?” she asked Zeroah.
Trevn wrinkled his brow. “Please say yes, lady. We cannot all be perfect like our mothers.”
Zeroah fought a smile and inclined her head to Trevn. “As you wish, Sâr Trevn.”
“Good.” He slapped his hand on the table. “That’s settled.”
Wilek complimented Zeroah on her dress, so Mielle seized the moment to continue her conversation with Prince Trevn. “So? What do you do when you’re not exploring?”
Trevn folded his arms. “For myself, I draw maps. For the realm, I study. As the third son of a king, I’m to be a priest.”
The boy who jumped off a moving carriage? A priest? Mielle did not believe it. “Which gods do you worship?”
“Oh, none of them.”
She tried not to laugh. “What kind of priest will you be if you worship no god?”
“Well, I have to choose my five when I reach my majority. Until then I could worship this bowl if I wanted to.” He nudged one of the bronze bowls in the center of the table.
He was joking again, but his words puzzled her. “But you study the gods.”
“Oh, yes. The gods and the faiths. See, in Sarikar, as Lady Zeroah well knows, they exalt Arman above all other gods. But here in Armania, we follow Rôb, which is to worship five gods of one’s choosing.”
“That’s ironic, isn’t it?” Mielle asked. “With our realm being named after Arman.”
Trevn shrugged. “My parents named me, and I’m not all that fond of them either.”
It took great effort not to laugh at that. “What does a priest do?”
“In Armania it’s all about learning the pecking order of the gods, which can change by the minute. One day Dendron might be more powerful than Thalassa. But another day, Thalassa might rule over all. Priests must have a thorough understanding of the gods so they can advise the king whom to serve each day. If a priest chooses a god that’s overpowered by another, the king is angry with the priest for his poor advice. Too many errors from a priest of Rôb, you could face the pole or worse.”
“So much responsibility!” Mielle said. “How can anyone know the minds of gods?”
“It takes a certain intelligence to become a priest.”
A snort from Wilek.
Trevn glanced at him. “I mean, since there is so much to learn.”
This brought laughter from Wilek. “The church chose you for your unparalleled mind, is that it, brother?”
Trevn smiled into his lap, but if he was embarrassed, he quickly recovered. “Of course, no one can truly know the mind of any deity. They’re unknowable and can never be completely understood.”
“Except by those with a certain intelligence,” Wilek said.
“I just meant that by careful study, priests can advise others. Stop laughing. We can.”
Thankfully the food arrived then, distracting the princes from their disagreement. First came a serving of stuffed button mushrooms and honey-glazed turnips. Then a carrot-and-caraway soup that was very strong. The main dish was baked fish with white-wine sauce and gingered green beans.
Mielle ate everything that was set before her and fought the urge to lick her fingers. It all tasted divine.
She asked Trevn questions throughout the meal and learned much about him—he talked more than she did! She hoped Zeroah was asking Prince Wilek as many things.
The final course was a chewy, sweet cobbler with a crunchy topping that Trevn called date nucato. There was also a platter of brittle nut fondants shaped like little flowers and trees. Mielle savored every bite.
“What do you enjoy, Miss Mielle?” Trevn asked suddenly.
Here was a chance she hadn’t seen coming. “There is little to enjoy with so many suffering. Did you know there are thousands of orphaned children in Everton?”
“I do, actually.” Trevn slapped the table. “That’s where I’ve seen you before. With the protestors outside the castle gate.”
Mielle blushed. “It was before I took the position with Lady Zeroah. I don’t recall ever seeing you there.”
He grinned. “A hemp cloak is disguise enough for that crowd. They are so frenzied by their cause, they pay no attention to who is listening.”
“Why do you go?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “I’m new here. Best way to learn what is going on is to hear what people complain about.”
“Well, I’m complaining about the orphans. We must do something for them. They are starving. The almshouse cannot possibly feed them all.”
“Then we’ll do something,” Prince Trevn said.
“What?”
“I know not. You must give me more than a breath to think on it.”
“I will give you until tomorrow.”
His eyebrows lifted high. “You are quite demanding, Miss Mielle. I will make a demand of my own. Tell me what else you like to do besides championing orphaned children.”
“Very well. Before I took a position as Zeroah’s honor maiden, I spent much of my time on the beach near Echo Crack. There’s a place where you can climb down. Someone has tied a rope to a post at the top.”
“You like to climb?”
“Very much. Fear thrills me.”
“Does it?” He looked at her strangely, blinked. “Um . . . and what did you do at the beach? Swim?”
“Sometimes. My friends and I held dances there. Do you like dancing?”
He wrinkled his nose. “I know not.”
“How can one not know such a thing?”
“I’m too young to attend balls. But I’ve been taught to dance in grueling practices with serving women three times my age. Mother does what she can to ensure I won’t embarrass her on my ageday celebration.”
Mielle giggled. “I’d like to see you dancing with those serving women.”
“Are all women this cruel?” Trevn asked Wilek, but Wilek wasn’t listening. He had turned in his chair as Dendrick, Prince Wilek’s onesent, entered the room.
The man stopped at the end of the table and bowed to Prince Wilek. “Forgive the intrusion, Your Highness, there is an urgent matter.”
Wilek nodded at Lady Zeroah. “Excuse me.” He got up and followed his onesent from the room.
“I hope nothing is wrong,” Zeroah said quietly.
“It’s likely our father,” Trevn said. “He summons Wilek all the time. Urgent this. Urgent that. I’m so thankful I’m not being considered for Heir.”
A man’s cry from outside the room made Mielle jump. That had been Prince Wilek’s voice.
Trevn sprang from his chair and ran to the door, holding it open with his hand. “Where’s Wilek?”
“We should stand,” Zeroah whispered to Mielle. So they did.
Dendrick returned, slipping past Trevn at the door. He stopped inside and bowed. “I beg your pardons, Sâr Trevn, Lady Zeroah, Miss Mielle. An emergency has arisen. Sâr Wilek will be unable to return. Please accept his apologies. He requests you permanently accompany him to dinner from now on in the great hall.”
“It will be an honor,” Zeroah said, lips curving in a small smile.
Trevn was not so easily appeased. “What’s happened? Speak, man!”
“Forgive me, Your Highness,” Dendrick said. “You’ll have to ask Sâr Wilek.”
“Trevn!” A large woman in turquoise robes burst into the dining room and gripped Trevn in a hug. “Thank Mikreh you’re all right.” She released him and gasped in several short breaths. “When I heard,” she panted, “I feared death was in the pot.”
Trevn grabbed the woman’s arms. “Mother, what are you talking about?”
“The Honored Lady Lebetta is dead! Murdered, they say. I feared someone had poisoned you all.” She scowled at his clothing. “What are you wearing? You’re dressed like a windmill. I insist you let Beal choose your clothing from now on.”
Dead? Mielle pressed her hand over her heart. Lady Zeroah simply stared out the door, eyes glazed.
“Lady Lebetta was not with us tonight, Mother,” Trevn said. “Wilek and I were dining with Lady Zeroah and her honor maiden Miss—”
“Dendrick! What news?” Trevn’s mother rushed up to the onesent, who immediately quitted the room. Queen Thallah gave chase. “You will tell me at once!”
Zeroah swayed.
“Lady!” Mielle put her arms around Zeroah’s waist. “Will you look at me?”
Zeroah’s eyes flickered around the room and finally stopped on Mielle.
“Do you hear me?” Mielle asked her. “Can you speak?”
“I . . .” Her eyelids fluttered.
“Lady Zeroah isn’t feeling well,” Mielle said to Trevn. “We should retire at once. Will you fetch her guards?”
“Certainly.” Trevn rushed out of the room. Seconds later Doth and Ephec ran inside.
Doth swept Zeroah into his arms. “Hold open the door,” he told Ephec, who was already on his way out of the room.
Mielle followed them out and curtsied to Trevn in the hallway. “Thank you for dinner, Sâr Trevn,” she said. “Please thank Sâr Wilek.” Then she added, “And give him our prayers.”
“Certainly, Miss Mielle,” Trevn said. “Good evening to you both.”
“Yes, good evening.” Mielle rushed after the guards and Lady Zeroah, hoping there were no murderers about.