When Boojohni saw me, he seemed proud and pleased, and I shot him a question I’d been saving throughout the long beauty session.
What is happening in the hall?
Boojohni winced and covered his ears, as if that could keep me out.
“Hellfire, Bird!” he whined. “Adjust your tone. Ye don’t have to yell.”
My mouth dropped open, and I halted in surprise. I hadn’t realized I could control my volume. But it made sense. Just like a person could moderate their voice, I too could ‘speak’ quietly, even whisper, so only the person next to me could hear. That meant I could also raise my voice in a crowd and deliver a message to a group.
I repeated myself more carefully, and Boojohni nodded, indicating I had been successful.
“There is a feast for the dignitaries. Ye are attending to show your father that you are in good health. Ye are to nod and smile and sit near the king. Ye are to keep yer words to yourself.”
I had no intention of revealing my gift, but Boojohni’s instructions bothered me. You are suddenly the king’s messenger?
“I have no loyalty to your father, Lark. I never have. My loyalty was to your mother and now to ye. I believe ye are better off here in Jeru.”
Preparations for the arrival of the lords had been occurring all week, and the chandeliers dripped with hundreds of candles, the flame flickering in the crystal drops that reflected rainbow light across the walls and domed ceiling of the hall. I’d only seen the hall from the garden, and daylight didn’t do it justice.
Huge tables draped in royal blue were laden with roasted fowl and entire pigs, still rotating on spits. Cheeses and berries, melon and pears, and delicacies from every province were arranged in towers and teetering displays. Breads of every hue were braided, brushed with sweet butter, and sprinkled in herbs and spices, making the air smell like a bazaar. The hollow drum of my stomach began to growl.
I poked carefully at members of the assembly, testing the limits of my voice.
May I serve you, madam? I asked the beautiful ambassador to my left, and without raising her eyes, she declined.
“I have all I need, thank you,” she responded easily. I bit my lip and ignored Tiras, who had also heard my question.
More wine, sir? I asked the man sitting next to her, my eyes trained on him only long enough to pose my query. He didn’t raise his head either, and he didn’t respond. I asked again, raising my mental volume.
The man next to him looked around in confusion, his glass raised for a topping off.
Tiras growled.
I ignored him and tested my ability on the three people to the left of Kjell, just across the table. None of them, except Kjell, responded or glanced up at all. Kjell scowled and shot a warning look at the king.
“Stop that,” Tiras whispered.
Why do you think some people can hear me and some can’t?
“You look quite beautiful this evening, Lady Lark. Have I told you lately how much I enjoy your silence?” he murmured, ignoring my musings.
Have I told you lately what an ass you are? I didn’t think ass was the most accurate word for the king, but it was easy to spell. I tripped over my comeback a little and the king snorted softly, indicating he’d heard. I stopped talking to him—we were surrounded by curious eyes and ears—and I lapsed into quiet study of the people assembled at the long table. The king sat to my right, at the head, and Kjell sat directly across from me, though the distance across the table was at least six feet, providing some much needed distance between us.
The Ambassador from Firi was the only representative who was as youthful as the king, and her beauty rivaled his. Her skin was dark—darker than Tiras’s—and her hair was a wild, curling mass, embedded with tiny, sparkling gems that twinkled as she moved her head. Her ears were slightly pointed, as if she’d descended from elves. She was tall and voluptuous, her breasts round, her waist small, her legs tapering to tiny feet wrapped in silvery slippers. Kjell watched her with equal parts distrust and fascination, and I wondered if he ever relaxed. He was the most irascible man I’d ever met, and his presence made me want to run from the hall. The Ambassador from Firi eyed him with pursed lips and laughing eyes, as if she knew he was intrigued. At one point, Tiras engaged her in cordial conversation, his eyes resting appreciatively on her face, and I felt a sting of something unwelcome and unwieldy pierce my breast. I didn’t want him to like her.
Kjell wants to bed the beautiful ambassador, and he despises himself for it.
My silent observation zinged between us, and the king choked, grabbing for his empty goblet. I felt my face flush and didn’t meet his eye. I couldn’t believe I’d shared such a thing, and I doubted I’d spelled all the words correctly, but I’d gotten his attention. He put down his empty goblet with a grimace and reached beneath the table and pinched me, hard.
My father had grown more gaunt and grey in the weeks that I’d been away. Six weeks was insufficient to truly age, but age he had, and I felt a sliver of compassion for him before he met my gaze and immediately looked away. Why did he dislike me so much?
“There hasn’t been an execution or even a banishment of the Gifted in Jeru City in a year.” Lord Gaul spoke up from the far end of the long table, and the conversation immediately quieted.
“Why, Lord Gaul, do you enjoy such things so much?” Tiras answered easily.
“It is not a matter of what I enjoy, Majesty. It is what I expect. We must have order. Fairness. Equality. The Gifted are a threat to all of us. If we allow them to flourish, they will enslave us. It is what the Volgar are seeking to do. Their numbers have grown exponentially in the last thirty years. They are no longer content to stay in their own country. They want ours as well.”