“Do you have a preferred table, Sire?” the host asked.
“Any table is fine,” Shale said.
“Very good, Your Majesty. Please, follow me. I have a lovely spot for you. I think you'll like it.” The host led us throughthe restaurant, people surging to their feet to bow to the King as we passed.
Shale nodded at the Osomah, accepting his due. I smiled awkwardly, his grip on my hand drawing me along. We went up a winding stairwell, the Dragon knights in their usual arrangement, and came out on the second-floor balcony. It was more spacious than it looked from below and circled the first floor.
“Would you care for a table along the railing or at a window, Your Majesty?” the host asked.
Shale looked at me.
“The window,” I said immediately. As much as I liked to people watch, especially these people, I could do that from a table near the window just as well as I could from one that overlooked the first floor. And the window would give us a view of some exotic plants.
“The window table,” Shale repeated.
“Yes, Sire.” He led us to a table for four near an open window.
Roots defined the opening, some of them weaving thinner bits inside to hook into the wall planks. But they didn't detract from the view. Instead, the roots framed a picture of wild beauty. From the jungle floor to the tree canopy, there was beauty everywhere. Broad leaves spotted with sunlight, ferns taller than me rustling from the passage of beasts, and flowers of otherworldly beauty. The rich scent of growing and dying things came in on a breeze but was overpowered by the aromas coming from the kitchen and the other diners' plates.
“Sir?”
I looked over and found the host holding out a thin wood plank. On the plank were carved descriptions of dishes. The menu. I grinned and accepted it. “Thank you so much. Your restaurant is amazing.”
“Thankyou, Sir. Would you like some drinks? Water? Wine? Guri?”
“Guri?” I asked.
“The Osomah brew a spiced fruit drink that's a touch stronger than wine,” Shale said. “I'll have a glass of Guri.”
“Yes, Sire! Wonderful choice. Our guri is the best in Latur.”
“I'll try some too, please,” I said.
“Very good, Sir.” The host bowed and hurried away.
He returned shortly with our drinks, which were amazing, and then took our lunch orders. Shale went with a rice and chicken dish, and I had noodle soup. I had learned that consuming hot food makes you sweat more, but that sweat cools you down. It was why hot noodle soups were so popular in Latur. Nothing magical about it.
We were halfway through our meal when the carriage driver hurried up to our table.
“Your Majesty, word has come from the castle of a royal visitor,” the driver said.
“A royal visitor?” Shale asked. “Who?”
“King Vaxarion of Morilren, Sire.”
“KingVaxarion?” Shale frowned.
“Morilren? As in the sea?” I asked. “He's a Sea Dragon?”
“Yes,” the driver said.
“But the King Shosu rules Morilren,” Shale said.
“I don't know, Your Majesty. But he's awaiting you at the castle.”
“We will finish our lunch first,” Shale said. “He didn't send word of his visit, so he can wait.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” the driver said and bowed before leaving.
