Chapter 16

Gwendolyn felt uncomfortable, wearing so much finery. But, as she emerged into the King’s private dining hall after Pegella led her through the winding, seemingly endless corridors of the Palace, she realized she was actually quite underdressed.

She felt almost as though she would pass out from nerves as she sat in the chair left open for her. Her seat was next to the Prince she had met previously, but most of the people seated about the table had the same regal bearing as he did. She assumed they must all be the King’s children. One man, who had the golden hair of The Floating Valley but the dark eyes of the Capitol, was the only one who clearly didn’t fit in by birth. The King, seated at the head of the table, smiled encouragingly at her. She stole a secret, small glance around the room, which was decorated in pure, pink stone. The floor held a massive, plush red rug, and the columns had sconces filled with red candles. The effect was soothing, somehow, the dark wood table and chairs providing the only contrast to the beauty of the pink and red decor.

“Gwendolyn, thank you for joining us. You flew in on an auspicious day indeed, we have family dinner every Resden. I am always engaged in state business on other days, but long ago Queen Rabecci and I decided that it was important to ensure that we make time for family.” As King Maitala spoke, he reached over and patted the hand the woman sitting to his left, who could only be his wife, Gwendolyn assumed. She had pin-straight hair that was black, and shone like the scales of a wyvern, with grey, piercing eyes. Her mouth was a hard, severe line, but something about the hardness only made her more beautiful.

Gwendolyn jumped up, bowing to the Queen.

Suddenly, with glee, everyone at the table began to chuckle. Embarrassed, Gwendolyn stood back up, and stood behind her chair, unsure what she had done to spark such a reaction.

“My dear,” the Queen said, her face transformed by her smile, “here, at family dinner, we do not have titles or formality. And you are here because you saved our darling Solithi. We thank you for it. Please, make yourself comfortable.”

“And if you bow again,” chimed in a young girl sitting farther down the table on Gwendolyn’s right, “my father will throw you in the dungeon.”

Everyone laughed once again. Gwendolyn chuckled nervously, unsure if it was a joke.

“Shall we all introduce ourselves to our guest?” King Maitala asked. “If you’re going to tease her, she should at least know who it is frightening her so.”

Around the table, everyone nodded.

“Then I shall start,” the King said. “I am King Arelon Maitala, Ruler of Imirene, Conqueror of Shark Isle, and Protector of the City of Gold. I’m sure you’ve heard of me.” He gave her a little wink, and she suppressed a tiny laugh.

Next to the King, the Queen turns to Gwendolyn and says, “And I am Queen Rabecci Maitala of Krastiv, formerly Duchess of Ivernelton, wife to King Maitala. Our eldest son, Marcal, is not here. He married Princess Lisella of Parcee as part of our peace treaty with the nation. As she is the only child of King Valtag and his wife, it was agreed that he would move to Parcee and rule alongside her when the King passes. He does join us occasionally, but it is becoming more and more rare now that they have children.” Gwendolyn didn’t miss the pained look on the Queen’s face as she explained the absence of her eldest child, but she also did not press the subject.

“Also missing,” the King interjected, “is one of our daughters, Liiana, a Marchioness in Parcee now. For the same reasons as her brother, Liiana does not travel here as often as we would wish.”

“I am Princess Rayla Evre, Duchess of Windenshire,” said the young woman next to the Queen, who spoke softly and seemed unwilling to elaborate more.

“Her husband, Trepen Evre, Duke of Windenshire,” the light-haired man nodded solicitously at Gwendolyn. With a little smirk, he added, “believe it or not, I was not born to the Maitala family. I know you couldn’t tell.”

There was a giggle around the table.

Next, a young woman wearing a modest black frock with a grey veil covering her hair spoke, introducing herself as Devotee Ayra Maitala, explaining that she renounced her Royal Titles to live in a monastery and devote her life to the Five Gods. Despite her severe outfit, she was quite beautiful. Her hair was largely tucked up under the veil, but a few stray pieces around her face peeked out. They were a beautiful chestnut color, so unlike the inky black hair of her parents. Her eyes were blue, but unlike the Prince’s eyes, they were the light blue of The Floating Valley, a familiar blue to Gwendolyn.

Next spoke a Princess around Gwendolyn’s age, who looked very much unlike her siblings. She had the same dark hair, but her eyes were piercingly dark, so brown they looked almost black, and her cheeks were full. She wore a bright smile and had a button nose, unlike the more aquiline features of her parents. But there was something in how she carried herself that was too reminiscent of King Maitala to doubt her parentage.

“Princess Sharaa, at your service,” the girl said. Unlike the rest of her family, she was also dressed simply. More richly than Gwendolyn, of course. More richly than anyone Gwendolyn had ever seen on The Floating Valley. But for a Royal Princess, plainly. She wore a white linen dress with simple blue embroidery and three bracelets of gold, and some blue gemstone Gwendolyn had not seen before. A matching tiara was perched jauntily on her head, small and delicate. “Metaphorically speaking, of course. A Princess is at no one’s service,” she put on an air of faux-haughtiness, and Gwendolyn watched as her siblings rolled their eyes lovingly. The girl across from Princess Sharaa, on Gwendolyn’s side of the table, spoke next.

“Princess Pala,” was all she said, but she leaned forward slightly to look at Gwendolyn and Gwendolyn noticed that she was her father’s miniature. Every bit of her appearance was mirrored in her father’s face.

“And Prince Harvarl,” a boy leaned forward, blocking out the Princess, but it caused Gwendolyn to do a double take. If Princess Pala looked just like her father, it was nothing to this young Prince, who had the King’s appearance, but also his air, his stature, and was almost eerily like the King.

Of course, he also looked like just like Princess Pala.

Prince Harvarl laughed. “We are twins,” he said. Behind him, Princess Pala nodded, still slightly obscured from Gwendolyn’s view.

“I was a twin,” Gwendolyn muttered, so low she almost thought that no one would hear her.

“Oh?” Prince Harvarl looked interested.

“Yes,” Gwendolyn felt her cheeks color slightly. “My brother died, though.” She didn’t elaborate, and although Prince Aparen shifted slightly in his seat, neither he nor the King disclosed the rest of the story.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” the Queen said, while the twins further down the table exchanged sad looks.

“It was a long time ago,” Gwendolyn said, “but thank you.”

The King cleared his throat and nodded at the Prince to Gwendolyn’s left. He was the youngest, perhaps thirteen. He had the lightest hair of any of the King’s children, and when he turned enthusiastically to Gwendolyn, she saw that he had light eyes, as well.

“I’m Prince Tariam,” he said. He offered Gwendolyn his hand, which was small and slight. Where the other men and boys sitting at the table appeared to be burly, this Prince had his mother’s willowy frame.

Gwendolyn hesitated, but then from down the table, the same teasing girl from before, who Gwendolyn knew was Princess Sharaa, called out, “don’t kiss it, or else you’ll be in the dungeons, remember!”

Gwendolyn laughed and took the little Prince’s hand. He squeezed it five times, the traditional greeting, one for each God.

She returned the gesture just as Prince Aparen spoke to her right. It occurred to her that the family sat more or less in order of age, except Prince Aparen, who sat on his father’s right-hand side.

“I’m Prince Aparen, Lady Gwendolyn. We met previously and I would like to apologize for any rough behavior on the part of my men or me. We truly believed you were my brother’s killer.”

At the mention of the youngest Prince, the mood at the table grew somber and everyone looked down at their empty plates. Following suit, Gwendolyn saw that they were made of gold with tiny precious stones embedded about the edges. Amazed, she also looked slightly above the plate to see a gold goblet, full of wine.

“Well,” King Maitala said, after a long moment. “We have Solithi back, and that is some comfort. And there are still searchers looking for Prince Barlan, and he may yet be found. Tomorrow at orisons, everyone will make prayers to the Five Gods for him.”

He reached over to squeeze his wife’s hand once again. Gwendolyn marveled for a moment that the King of Dragons, a man so powerful and widely feared that even the heartiest men might faint upon encountering him, was so tender with his family.

Perhaps she couldn’t have imagined the King as a tender family man because her own father was no such thing.

“Please, as our guest, we would love to hear more about you,” the Queen said, looking at Gwendolyn with polite interest.

Just then, a Royal servant emerged from a door behind the King, one which blended so well into the wall that Gwendolyn had not even noticed it. She was secretly relieved to have avoided any further discussion of herself.

“King Maitala,” he said, addressing the King with a low bow, “Your Majesties, Lady Gwendolyn,” he added, with two additional bows as he spoke, “the first course is ready,” and he stepped aside as three additional servants bearing small bowls of soup entered the room, placing one bowl in front of each of the diners sitting at the table.

Gwendolyn was much reminded of dining with the Everald families, but she noticed as the plates were set down that Princes on each side of her made no move to touch the servants at all. And as they bowed and stepped back, each member of the Royal Family muttered a ‘thank you’ before picking up their spoons to eat.

For a few minutes there was silence as everyone at the table enjoyed the delicious dish. It was somehow both savory and yet, lightly sweet, and although it had the appearance of beef broth, it had only vegetables and herbs in it. It was unlike anything Gwendolyn had had before.

After a few moments passed, however, the Queen said, “oh, sorry, my dear. We were about to hear more about you! How rude of us.”

“Oh, no, I—” Gwendolyn hesitated, then decided she wasn’t brave enough to refuse the Queen. “I don’t think you were rude.”

“Well, come then,” she said, with a light smile. Gwendolyn noticed that when the Queen smiled faintly, she barely used her lips at all to do so, smiling somehow entirely with her eyes. It was impressive.

“Well, I—” Gwendolyn didn’t know where to start, so she began to speak at random, “I was born in The Floating Valley, in a town called Bartet. It’s a relatively prosperous farming town, and my parents are apple and barley farmers.”

Each member of the Royal Family was watching her as they ate, as though a simple farmer’s daughter was easily the most interesting guest they had ever had.

“Ah, I know Bartet,” said Princess Rayla, and Gwendolyn was surprised to hear her speak. She still spoke in her quiet, hesitant voice as she continued, “yes, don’t you remember, darling,” she turned to her husband, “we passed through Bartet after the wedding. When we visited Lord Arrowpeak?” Gwendolyn knew Roan Camberen, Earl of Arrowpeak, one of the northerly counties in The Floating Valley. He rarely came so far south of the valley as Bartet, except when he was visiting other noblemen.

“Yes,” Gwendolyn blushed slightly. She remembered Princess Rayla from the procession, but she hadn’t been sure if it was appropriate to mention, “I remember you. You wore a beautiful blue gown. We had never seen a member of the Royal Family in my lifetime, so it was much talked about.”

Princess Rayla looked at her with a somewhat peculiar look on her face, seemingly surprised. “Yes,” she nodded. “Was yours the farm with the strange barn?”

Gwendolyn nodded, pleased that the Princess remembered. “Yes,” she said with pride, “my great-grandfather’s design!”

“I told you of that barn, father, if you remember, because it really seemed to be—” Rayla turned to her father and began to speak excitedly, more animated than she had been before.

“Yes, I remember,” King Maitala cut her off gently. Then he turned to Gwendolyn, “my daughter here was born with the heart of a farmer. I believe she learned to ride a horse before she learned to walk.” Rayla went a delicate shade of pink but looked pleased as well. “It was the least surprising thing in this world when she fell in love with the Duke from Windenshire.”

Gwendolyn vaguely recalled that Windenshire was farmland. She had read of the duchy in one of the geography books in Bartet.

The Duke and Duchess were both looking at Gwendolyn with renewed interest. “We would love to discuss that design with you more in depth,” said the Duke. Gwendolyn nodded demurely.

“So how did you find Solithi?” Prince Tariam asked her. “She didn’t attack the town, did she?”

Gwendolyn laughed. “No, I found her in a cave. She wasn’t anywhere near Bartet. She was hurt, and I used to help with the farm animals when they were injured sometimes, so I tried to help.”

“What were you doing in a cave?” Princess Sharaa asked, looking curious. “Were you exploring? I love to climb around in caves and explore them, but father always makes me take a guard, and they never let me try anything fun,” she pouted, crossing her arms in an exaggerated motion.

“I… well,” Gwendolyn glanced over at the King and at Prince Aparen, who nodded encouragingly. “I guess I was exploring, in a sense,” she continued, “but not exactly. I was running away.”

“From what, my dear?” asked the Queen, looking concerned. Gwendolyn felt suddenly panicked, afraid the Queen would think she was dangerous, that she had run after committing a crime.

“Just because, I, well, my parents wanted me to marry someone and I… didn’t want to.” Gwendolyn finished, rather timidly, unsure of what else to say.

“They were planning to marry her to a wealthy man of ill repute,” Prince Aparen spoke from Gwendolyn’s side. “Isn’t that right?”

“Well, yes. He’s the son of our wealthiest merchant. But he’s known in town as something of a bully,” Gwendolyn admitted. “And a libertine,” she added, blushing at the implication. “Several women in my town were sent to the Chapel of the Five Gods after he… pursued them,” she said, growing redder with embarrassment.

“Good for you, for running away,” the Queen said, and around her, there were murmurs of agreement. The King was nodding vigorously.

“Thank you. I was hoping to find work here in Ardelen, it was just good fortune that I found Solithi, and she carried me here. I don’t want to be a burden here, I’ve already imposed, and I’d be happy to leave in the morning to look for a room and perhaps some work. I just don’t know where to go.”

“Nonsense,” the Queen sounded scandalized, “you will stay here. We won’t turn you on to the street, not after you found our darling Solithi. Certainly not after you showed so much courage, running away from home like that.” She looked to her husband, who nodded.

“Indeed,” he said. “You’ll stay here. We certainly won’t turn you away. Give me a few days to consider a good long-term solution for you, but until then you shall be our guest.”

Gwendolyn perked up. Acting as a Royal servant was more than she could have dreamed. It was a prestigious position, with excellent pay. The Royal Family was known for being kind and taking an interest in the well-being of their staff. She wondered if the King would truly allow her to take on such a role.

“Thank you,” she said meekly, “I’m extremely grateful. I’m a very hard worker, and I am talented at cooking and gardening, as well as housework. I’d be more than happy with any—” but the King cut her off, mid-monologue.

“What?” he asked.

“Oh,” Gwendolyn felt incredibly ashamed of her presumption. “I thought you meant… I’m sorry, I thought you meant that perhaps you could find a role for me as a Royal servant, I shouldn’t have assumed…” she trailed off into embarrassed silence.

“Lady Gwendolyn,” the King said, sternly. “I was offering you more than a role as a Royal servant. Although I don’t know what I have to offer just yet, exactly, I think we can find you something else. At the very least, I should like to give you a fair sum of money for what you’ve done for my family. An estate, perhaps, if I can find one. I’ll consult the Royal Treasury in the morning. But please understand, the gratitude of my family for what you have done will ensure you need not labor for the rest of your life.”