Chapter 9

When Ayla thought about when she would have to serve King Rhobart's dinner, she imagined he would be eating alone. But as she entered the dining room, she saw how wrong she had been. At a long, big table, King Rhobart sat together with his paladins. Food and wine were in the middle of the table, but no one was eating. Perhaps because no servants were around to fill the plates and the goblets. 

    Ayla sighed faintly. She hoped there would be at least one servant to help and show her how to serve the food. Back in Myrthana, she was rarely invited to eat with her family. She wished she had paid more attention to her father's servants and slaves. She prayed she would not anger the King with her lack of skills. 

    King Rhobart and the Paladins were talking in low voices, and Ayla clenched her hands to hide her nervousness while studying them. It surprised her that King Rhobart wasn't seated at the head of the table. He was sitting in the middle of the table and talking to the Paladin to his right. The seat next to his left was unoccupied. The men wore simple tunics and pants while daggers rested on their right hips. To her relief, they hadn’t noticed her. Yet.

    She was unsure of what she was supposed to do. Should she let the King and the Paladins know she had arrived? Or should she go directly to the table and start serving the food? On the few occasions that Ayla had been permitted to eat with her father and brother, the slaves and servants served the food without saying a word. Maybe that's what she was supposed to do.

    Before Ayla could walk towards the table, Milton cleared his throat, and those at the table felt silent.

    The King whipped his head and looked directly at Ayla like he already knew where she was standing, and his onyx eyes looked directly into her eyes. She stared and stared into his eyes for what seemed forever. Even if she wanted to, she could not look away. She would have kept staring into those black eyes if not for one of the Paladins that, thank Adanoss, spoke, “We are in the presence of a lady, you asses!”

   “I don't see any lady,” another said while they hurried to stand—including the King.

   “For Inoss' sake, don't ruin the dinner!” another one rushed to say.

   The sudden movement startled Ayla. She took a step back and bumped into Milton. He put his arms over her shoulders. “We better not make the others wait.” And before Ayla could say anything, the Fire Mage guided her to the table.

          With each step that got her closer to the King, Ayla’s heart beat faster and faster. His cold black eyes were still fixed on her, and she was so terrified she wanted to beg Milton to take her away from this dinner. She wanted to ask to be permitted to work in the kitchen or another place that would take her away from that man with eyes so black they were like the Void—cold and emotionless. Even the stark winter felt warmer compared to his stare.

    Her eyes widened when she saw the King pulling the chair from his left and signaling her to join him. He wanted her to sit next to him?

    The moment she was in front of King Rhobart, Milton took his hands off Ayla’s shoulder. She felt like a rabbit in the middle of a pack of wolves. Her blood roared in her ears, and she had to take two steps back to look at his face. His 6’7 towered over her 5’5, making her feel so small. Insignificant. He was not only big but also very strong, and she bet that if he wished, he could snap her in two with his bare hands.

    While her father and brother dressed to impress and to show that they were the most important men in Myrthana, King Rhobart was the opposite. He was wearing a pair of simple black boots, black trousers, and a long white tunic. But what surprised Ayla the most was a little satchel the King wore around his neck. The satchel was made from the hide of an animal and dyed pink. A very, very vivid pink. Some birds and flowers, or at least that’s what Ayla supposed, were stitched on the satchel with equal vivid colors. It looked like something a small child would make. Perhaps a gift from some relative the King cared about.

    There was something about that satchel that made Ayla uneasy. She tried to think why but couldn’t figure out why. As she shifted her gaze, their eyes locked again.

    Ayla saw a flicker of emotion in his eyes, but it disappeared as quickly as it came. She could swear she saw something similar to longing. But his cold gaze made her believe she was wrong. Loneliness and sadness flickered on his face, and for an unknown reason, her heart ached for him. Who knew Kings as mighty as King Rhobart felt sad and lonely? Ayla understood this so well because she felt like him more times than she could remember.

    His hair and beard were shorter than she remembered. And he still looked tired and sad. So very sad. Ayla wanted to ask what made him feel like that. Wasn’t he happy that the war was finally over?

    King Rhobart was the first to speak. “You lost weight, T’xoria. And you look very tired. Are you sleeping better?”

    Of all the things the King could have said to her, Ayla certainly did not expect that. And there was that word again—T’xoria. What did it mean?

    “I’ve been sick. But I am better now. Thank you for your concern.”

    “Don’t assume I am concerned about you!” the King snapped at her. Someone snorted.

    Ayla flinched. She was so stupid! Of course, he won’t be concerned about her well-being. What was she even thinking when she said that?

    “You really should work on your manners, Rhobart, among other things,” Milton said in a stern tone.