We’re greeted with a dining hall, where nearly everything is made of wood and stone. A hearth is built into the center of the room, and an archway reveals a massive kitchen where a group of people cooks. Steam rises in front of their faces as they use fire from their hands to boil water. Delicious scents waft through the hall, teasing my nose.
“Please sit.” The queen gestures gracefully to an open table. We pull out our seats, and once we’re settled, she claims a chair on the opposite side of us. The muscular man joins her. “Shall we start with your names?” She examines Algar and me closely now.
I clear my throat before telling her mine.
Algar follows suit.
“Zaira and Algar.” She stares at us, unblinking. “And the names of the others?”
“The prince is Kelrean, as he told you,” I say. “He’s from Bernwood.”
She nods. “I am fond of King Draedor. We’ve traded with him many times.”
“The minotaur is Rynthea Kamtaur,” I add. “She’s a good person.”
“She must be if that combat-heavy sorcerer is willing to save her,” the woman notes. “What ishisname?”
“Thane Valkor,” I answer, my voice a little quieter now.
“And why do you travel with him?” She looks at both of us expectantly, her dark eyes narrowing.
“He’s helping me get somewhere.”
“And I’m assisting,” Algar tosses in.
The queen drops her eyes to Zephra, who is already studying her. “You care for creatures. For nature,” she notes after a brief silence.
“Of course I do.” Algar strokes Zephra’s back. “Nature is beautiful, and creatures like Zephra are the best parts of it.”
Her mouth twitches as she studies Zephra a bit longer. Then she sticks out her hand, and Zephra wiggles out of Algar’s arms to climb onto the table.
As Zephra climbs up the queen’s arm, the queen puts on a full smile—teeth and all. Not that I’ve known her for very long, but she doesn’t strike me as the kind of person who offers lots of big smiles.
“What a beauty you are,” she coos as she holds Zephra to her chest and strokes her soft head. Zephra makes a pleased, throaty little noise, and even the muscled man smiles at the maobi. I understand. It’s hardnotto adore Zephra.
“She should be roaming freely.” The queen turns her attention to Algar, still rubbing Zephra’s head.
“She chooses to stay with me,” Algar returns defensively.
“It appears so.” She pauses, smiling down at Zephra again. “You know, it is considered an honor for a maobi to ride the shoulder of a human. They haven’t been seen doing that for many generations. In order for them to do that, they must see you as their equal. They are emotionally intelligent creatures. Some believe maobis understand our feelings more than we can understand them ourselves. The fact that she’s attached to you is interesting. I’m sure you know how feisty and fastidious they can be.”
Algar lowers his defenses, shoulders sagging a bit. “She’s my best friend, and we get each other.” He offers a half smile. It’s so sweet, seeing the adoration in his eyes. “I love her.”
Zephra squeaks and looks back at Algar. Then she wriggles out of the queen’s hands and scampers across the table to return to her person.
“And she loves you, too,” the queen replies.
Algar laughs softly as Zephra mounts his shoulder and nuzzles her head in the crook of his neck.
“You have questions.” The queen’s eyes are pinned on me again. So much for that smile.
“A few,” I say.
“Ask away.”
“Well, I think it’s best to start with your name…right?”
Her chin inclines. “Xiaodera, Tribe Queen of Immalon.”
