“Thank you for that.” I turned my attention back to him. “It would have upset my employees' schedules if I had tried to move around their days off.”
“While I only had to disturb ten advisers.”
My face went slack.
Rian burst into laughter. “I'm just teasing you. It wasn't a problem. They don't have set schedules like your employees.”
“Oh. All right.”
The carriage came to a stop, and an attendant opened the door. Not our driver, but an employee of whatever establishment we'd arrived at. Rian went out first, then helped me down, onto a stool that had been placed on the snowy sidewalk. A path had been cleared before it, leading to a building.
A pair of glass double doors was opened for us as we approached, the doormen, both dressed in thick coats, bowing as we passed. Beyond them was a long entry hall paved in a sea of cream marble with a military line of columns to either side. They led us to a long desk manned by several people. A few were busy with customers, each of those customers with luggage at their feet.
Had Rian taken me to a hotel? The outright presumption! I turned toward him in affront, about to tell him off right there, in front of everyone, but someone else spoke first.
“Your Majesty!” A Graen man hurried around the counter and bowed to the King. “We were so delighted to receive your reservation. May I take your cloaks?”
Hold on. What's this? Maybe I should reserve my outrage until I'm certain he's taking me to a hotel room.
“Yes, thank you.” Rian helped me remove my cloak and wing scarf, handed them to the man, then removed his cloak and passed that over as well.
Holding the bundle over one arm, the Graen led us to the right where another set of glass doors waited. He opened one for us, and Rian led me through. There, the marble continued, though the room was more intimate, paneled in dark wood. A podium waited near an archway to the right, and I realized that this was the hotel's restaurant.
Thank the Gods I hadn't made a scene.
“His Majesty is here for breakfast,” the Graen announced imperiously to the human who waited at the podium.
The human, a stiff-backed man with gray hair and a thick mustache, took our garments from the Graen and bowed to us. “One moment, Your Majesty.” He went into a room to hang our cloaks.
“Heinrik will take care of you and your guest, Your Majesty.” The Graen bowed and left.
Before he was gone, the human, Heinrik, returned. “Please, follow me, Sire.” He took two leather binders from a stack within the podium and led us through the archway.
The space beyond was vast. My stare went instantly up. And up and up. It had to be at least five stories tall, with grand arches coming in from the corners to meet in the center of the ceiling before sweeping down into a central column. The base of the column disappeared into a fountain, and water poured out of the column into that fountain from wavelike extensions. Around it, circular tables formed an elegant pattern, spaced out to give the diners their privacy.
Heinrik took us around the edge of the central space and up a set of steps to a raised area that swooped around a wall of windows. Again, my stare went up, following the black iron lines of the window frames to their termination in pointed arches. When my stare inevitably came down, I saw the view. Beyond the glass, a lake spread, its water still. No, not just still, frozen. I'd never seen a frozen lake before.
“Is this table suitable, Your Majesty?” Heinrik asked. “If there is another you prefer, just say the word.”
The table he'd taken us to was in the prime location at the center of the curve, right beside the windows. It gave us an excellent view of the lake as well as the restaurant. There were many other tables on the platform, but none of them were occupied despite how busy the restaurant was. Being a king has its perks.
“This is perfect. Thank you,” Rian said and held out a chair for me.
I sat down, tucking my wings in against my sides. Argaivs were lucky in that our wings were very flexible. Other winged races had to deal with larger, cumbersome wings that couldn't curve with a chair or retract. They needed special, backless chairs to be comfortable.
As the King headed to his seat across the little table from me, Heinrik handed me a leather folder.
“Thank you,” I said.
Heinrik inclined his head. “Your waiter will be with you shortly, but may I pass on a drink order for you? Perhaps hot chocolate?”
I beamed at the man. “Yes, please. It's my favorite drink.”
“Would you like whipped cream on top?”
I nodded, as giddy as a child at the prospect.
“Very good, Sir.” He looked at the King expectantly.
