Mercifully, he turns his attention from me to the room at large.
“Attention,” he says.
The word is no louder than a normal speaking tone, yet everyone comes to a stop, their heads popping out from behind furniture and armloads of books. The king surveys the crowd with a cool air.
“Princess Serah and I,” he says, “thank you for making her feel at home. Please, enjoy your repose and cake.”
The servants share a single, gleeful look with one another before hurrying from the room, their chatter following them as they go. When the room is empty—of other people, at least. I fear it will take some time to empty it of all my ridiculous requests—the king and I are left to stare out over the mess I made.
The king tucks his hands behind his back. “It was certainly a creative solution, Princess.”
My mouth tightens. “It was childish, and I apologize.”
“No more childish than the dictate that prompted it.”
I glance at him. He does look sincere, though I remind myself this is the same man who said mere hours ago I wasn’t allowed to leave my room. He holds an arm out to me.
“Perhaps,” he says, “you would allow me to accompany me on your tour of the palace by way of apology?”
I consider him. Of course I want out of this room. I could hardly find a place to sit even if I wanted to stay. But I’ve seen so many sides of this king in the brief time I’ve been here that I can’t help hesitating. Is this the true him? A gentleman willing to apologize? Or did I see his true self when he threatened to bite Abely’s head off? I suppose it’s a bit ridiculous to think one might see another’s true self in so short of time, but a baseline would be nice.
Especially when one is marrying a dragon.
Still, he seems to have forgiven me, and I ought to do the same. Holding grudges won’t make marriage any easier, and we are to be man and wife soon. Dragon and wife.
This is for my people, I remind myself.
“That would be lovely,” I say and take his arm.
24
I find myself cautiously enjoying the tour.
The king makes no more mention of cake. His manners are formal, almost stiff, but he takes obvious pride in showing me his home. The palace is a wonder of domes, minarets, and mosaics that leaves me dizzy with grandeur. Outside of Vasna, I’ve only visited the Sileshian palace, a great, hulking fortress built for protection, not beauty. The Tirenthian palace seems designed for both, though I do wonder how much protection could be needed when those within can transform into fire-breathing beasts.
More impressive than anything he shows me, however, is his memory. Every servant we pass, he introduces by name. I know every face at home, but Vasna’s palace and staff is minuscule in comparison to Tirenth’s.
“Greetings, Isaak,” the king says as we come alongside an older man pushing a wheelbarrow beside the covered walkway we stroll. “Are you in need of assistance?”
The man pushes his hat back and glances up. His hair is white but his eyes bright and smiling. “Ah, not today, Your Majesty. These old wings still have some life in them.”
He spots me, and the bright eyes widen. Dropping the wheelbarrow handles, he tugs his hat off. “The Water Bringer,” he breathes, dropping to a knee.
I startle at both the title and his reverence, but the king only says, “Indeed. This is Princess Serah of Vasna.”
The man lifts his shining gaze to me. “An honor, Your Highness. Truly.”
“Likewise,” I say, curtsying to the man who then looks apt to weep.
After helping the man up, the king guides me onward.
“Who was that?” I ask softly as we walk.
“Isaak, the chief gardener.”
A quick look behind shows me the man, hat clutched to his chest, still standing where we left him.
“Older dragons,” the king says as I turn back, “remember older days. They knew Tirenth when she was only sand and a few skinny palm trees on the ocean’s edge. They remember a time before canals and cisterns, Princess. They remember drought.”
