“The king has most generously said we can go to breakfast this morning with him,” Jo paraphrased before the herald could repeat another ear-splitting shout.
“The king?” Wayne looked to her.
“And Eslar.” Jo couldn’t help but notice that her use of Eslar’s name in such a casual manner set the herald’s eye to twitching.
“Okay, how about in an hour or, better yet, three?” Wayne gave a yawn.
“Eslar?” Samson pushed past Wayne, stepping into the room. Jo was surprised to see him up, given how late he’d been out.
He hadn’t said anything when he returned to their suite of rooms. Jo had been perched on the couch, fumbling with her obsidian disk, trying to make sense of the layers of magic Samson had helped her see. Samson had given her a small smile, and a nod, but said nothing as he dragged his feet to bed. As much as Jo had wanted to ask then, she’d assumed there would be ample time for her questions this morning after Samson got a few hours of shut eye.
Then again, Eslar calling them for breakfast may well be answer enough.
“They expect your presence promptly.” The way the elf said the last word left little room for misunderstanding. “Promptly” actually meantnow. “I shall wait for you while you freshen up.”
Takako emerged. “What’s going on?”
“Do you sleep in your clothes?” Wayne asked from across the room.
Takako looked down at herself in a way that seemed not just dismissive but annoyed. “No.”
“Then, how?” He motioned to her meticulous attire.
“I heard noise. . . You didn’t think I’d open a door without being ready to face whatever might be on the other side, did you?”
Jo didn’t bother fighting back a smile. The way Takako handled this strange new world, taking everything in stride as though nothing would stop her. It was admirable, to say the least.
“Fine, I’ll go get dressed,” Wayne huffed, following behind Samson.
It took Wayne the longest to get ready. Jo had resorted to fumbling with her disk yet again while Takako and Samson made small talk. Samson didn’t bring up their adventure the night before, so neither did Jo. And they both kept quiet about their interactions with their respective lovers.
When Wayne stepped out of the room once more, he was dressed impeccably from head to toe—tailored pants in a charcoal gray, vest to match overtop a crisp white shirt. His hair had been coiffed in its usual fashion, not a strand out of place.
“You know we’re just going to breakfast, right? Not a gala.” Jo stood, pocketing her magical trinket.
“Breakfast with aking.” Wayne adjusted the knot of his narrow tie. “Gotta look the part, dollface.”
Outwardly, Jo rolled her eyes. Inwardly, she assessed the clothes she wore. It was the same pair of cotton pants—the closest thing she’d found to denim in Myth—she’d been wearing for a day now. She had the sense in the night to change her shirt, but it was another plain tank top, much like the ones she’d always worn. Overtop was a flowing tunic—an evlish upgrade from her usual hoodie—that she’d discovered mixed in with her other clothes she’d brought. It was perhaps a not-so-subtle nudge by some persnickety elf that her clothes were sub-par.
She didn’t know what part she looked, but it certainly wasn’t demigod.
“I guess we’re ready?” she said both to the group and the elf that had been sent to summon them.
“If you’ll follow me.”
For some reason, Jo had expected them to be going for a long walk through the castle. At the very least, she expected them to be going to some grand dining room. But the minute they left their rooms and turned the corner, they were practically at their destination.
The inner courtyard they had walked around the day before had been repurposed as a makeshift dining area. Set along a winding path to the center of the courtyard were posts that arched overhead like shepherd's hooks, fragrant white flowers strung atop them with ribbons of lilac. Elves stood with their heads bowed between the posts on either side—twelve in total—as if waiting for any reason to be of service.
“If this is the royal treatment he gets, I can see why he doesn’t want to leave,” Wayne muttered. And, judging from the small glance from a servant as they passed, she wasn’t the only one to hear.
The path ended in the center of the courtyard. Pavers created a checkerboard circle of black and white, surrounded by low shrubs completely covered in the same tiny white blooms they’d seen on the makeshift pathway. At the center of the patio was a silver table, rectangular, set with six chairs.
The king stood in front of his chair at the far head of the table. Eslar stood at his right. They were both dressed in layers on layers of flowing fabrics in silvers and whites, with navy seaming and ribboning at their edges.
“Thank you for joining us,” Eslar said. The king merely continued to stand, as though the world should sing praise for his mere existence. He certainly was not going to thank them for taking breakfast with him.
“Thank you for having us.” Jo made it a point to speak to Eslar over the king. She had no issue with the noble, but she also felt no inclination to kiss the ground he walked on.
