“Had I had more notice of your coming, Councilor Younn” the king replied to the councilor. “I would have been better equipped to prepare a welcome for you and your large company.”
Sol heard both a politeness and a barbed threat in the king’s words.
A line of Chendas soldiers paraded quietly into the room from a large open door at the end of the hall. As though practiced in advance, the soldiers lined themselves around the four walls of the massive room.
King Frederich only had four guards stationed around the dais. The formation of the Chendas soldiers blocked all exits from the room, cutting the king off from his own men.
Sol squeezed his hands into fists.
“I am pleased to see that all of your children look well,” the councilor said. His eyes seemed to scan the row of chairs. Sol was some distance away, but it seemed the man stared particularly long at Erich.
“Your concern is appreciated, but I doubt it is the reason for your visit,” Frederich replied.
“My dear Frederich,” Councilor Younn said, dropping the honorific title. “My King Gareth was comforted to hear news of Aden’s miraculous cure. Is that not reason enough to send a delegation?” Even as he spoke, soldiers continued to march into the room behind him, building up their human wall another layer deep, so that two rows of soldiers lined the room.
“Gareth’s comfort comforts me,” King Frederich responded. Sol admired the imperious tone of the man’s voice, even though he was clearly outnumbered in his own home. “However, it seems Gareth recently attempted to harm one of my own children. I was hoping you would have more clarity on that matter.”
“My king sends his deepest apologies for any misunderstanding that has happened between your great houses.” The councilor bowed low, swinging his arm as though in a performance.
“Misunderstanding?” Frederich emphasized the single word.
The councilor lifted his head, moving back into a standing position. But before he could respond, the side door of the great hall slammed open.
“Princess, you cannot—” a guard’s voice cut short as it entered the great hall.
From his limited view, Sol could only see an unruly commotion in the line of Chendas soldiers who stood in front of the door as Meena pressed her way through them. She smiled brightly as she walked across the hall and ascended the dais to her family.
Meena gaveher father a respectful nod before she sat on the large chair beside Erich. She hoped her dramatic entrance had not flustered him, but regal stability on his face never wavered as he made eye contact with her. She would have entered more quietly if the guards at the door hadn’t tried so hard to keep her out.
“I apologize for my late entrance, Father.” Meena spoke loud enough for most of the room to hear. “I was ... seeing to someone.”
“The councilor was apologizing for Gareth’s misunderstanding.”
Meena turned to face Councilor Younn. His average height and build were overpowered by the thick quilted doublet he wore, which seemed to add an entire hand’s width to his girth.
“As I was saying,” the councilor bent forward, though Meena had no idea how it was possible through the thick layers of fabric surrounding his middle. “My king sends his deepest apologies for any misunderstanding that has happened between your great houses.”
As the councilor apologized with flowery words, Meena risked a glance to Erich at her side. He lounged comfortably in his seat, resting his head on his hands and looking almost bored.
Meena wanted to pinch him. These men had attempted to literally chop off his head barely a sennight prior.
Erich seemed completely unperturbed, but Meena could see that his half-closed eyes were watching Younn intently. She was relieved to see they had been sensible enough to keep Aizel out of sight.
“He has been under great pressure preparing the kingdoms for the return of the Majis,” the councilor continued his carefully rehearsed lines. “It was a lapsed moment of judgment. He sends these gifts to you as a sign of his goodwill.”
Four soldiers stepped forward, placing elaborate silver platters on a small table below the dais.
“He sends us sweetmeats as an apology for his lapsed judgment?” King Frederich’s controlled rage was beginning to surface.
Meena tapped her fingers against the wooden armrest of her chair, playing out a melody only she could hear. Chendas soldiers continued to pour through the main door, lining themselves up three deep around the room.
Standing from his chair, Erich sauntered to the edge of the dais and lifted the lid from one of the platters.
“Erich.” Ian’s voice held a note of reproach from the seat next to their father.
Younn watched Erich’s movement through heavily lidded eyes.
“These look delicious,” Erich said, reaching down to grab one.
