Lady Smoke (Ash Princess Trilogy #2)(40)

THE ROYAL DINING ROOM IS somehow even more elaborately decorated than my room. Three out of four walls are covered in frescoed murals of cherubs lounging on pillowy pastel clouds, dining on grapes and drinking from gold wine goblets. The fourth wall isn’t much of a wall at all—the top half of it is open, with violet drapes pulled aside to show the sun setting in the distance. A chandelier hangs from the ceiling, but instead of crystals, it’s hung with bits of blue and green sea glass that cast a cool glow on the room. The long, carved-oak dining table is edged with gold leaf and set with seven matching chairs.

Six of those chairs are already occupied. King Etristo sits at one end, hunched over, his ornate crown slipping down awkwardly on his forehead, but the others stand when I walk in. Etristo is flanked on one side by a man in his thirties who I assume is his son, Avaric, and on the other side by a woman only a few years older than me who is fair and blond as a Kalovaxian but with a rounder, kinder face. She’s also heavily pregnant. On Avaric’s right is a woman with skin the color of rich honey and black hair in elaborately coiled braids. Dragonsbane is next to the blond woman; S?ren stands between the dark-haired one and an empty seat at the other end of the table, which I assume is for me. I’m gratified to see that both Dragonsbane and S?ren have also been dressed in the uncomfortable but ornate styles that the Sta’Criverans seem to favor. They even managed to get Dragonsbane into a gown of black satin without any straps at all.

I walk toward the empty seat, though it’s difficult to cross even that small a space in the heeled slippers Marial gave me. Perhaps it would be easier if I weren’t so worried about tripping on the hem of my heavy, gem-laden gown, but as it is I have to take small, careful steps, and an eternity stretches out before I make it to my seat, between S?ren and Dragonsbane.

“I hope I haven’t kept you waiting,” I say when I sit down. It’s as difficult to talk as it is to walk in this gown, but I find that I can manage if I take shallow breaths.

The others retake their own seats as soon as I’m settled into mine.

“Not at all, my dear,” King Etristo says in Astrean. “To wait on such beauty is an honor.”

To the Sta’Criverans I am a pretty thing in a glittering dress, an investment they expect a good return on if Artemisia’s theory about my bridal price is to be believed. I am a tool they think they can use, and Art was right when she said that it’s easier to let them think that. For now.

So I plaster a smile on my face. It doesn’t feel at all real, but I doubt anyone is looking close enough to notice that. It’s pretty and that will be enough.

“I’m so grateful for your hospitality, King Etristo,” I say. “It’s more kindness than I ever expected to find from strangers.”

“Yesterday we were strangers, my dear,” he replies, lifting his gold wine goblet in a toast that I hasten to meet with my own glass, though we’re too far apart for our glasses to come close to touching. “Today we are friends.” He takes a sip before replacing it and I do the same, since not doing so would be construed as an insult. The wine is darker than what we drank in Astrea, more spice than fruit. It burns my throat when I swallow.

King Etristo coughs before speaking. “All Sta’Criverans speak Astrean, of course, in addition to a few other tongues, though I suggest we keep to Astrean since that seems to be the most common tongue here.”

I glance at S?ren, who doesn’t understand a word of what’s being said. He keeps his eyes forward and his expression blank.

“I’d like to introduce you to my son,” Etristo continues, gesturing first to his right. “Avaric and his wife, Amiza,” he says, motioning to his son and the woman with the braided hair. Etristo gestures to his left. “And my wife, Lilia.”

I struggle to hide my surprise. I’d assumed the blond woman was one of his daughters, though they look nothing alike. King Etristo is in his eighties at the very least, and Lilia is practically my age. She must be his second wife, or even his third or fourth. The baby she’s carrying can’t possibly be his.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I say, smiling at the three of them. “You have other children as well, don’t you?” I ask the King.

He waves a dismissive hand. “My daughters all left home when they were younger than you,” he says. “They’ve done wonderfully for themselves, securing alliances and trade contracts with other countries all over the world. We write from time to time, but visiting one another is…difficult.”

I nod and make what I hope is a sympathetic noise, though I find I have little pity for a man who sells his daughters to foreign lands to make his own life easier. I’ve been a stranger in a strange court, and though I know that was a different sort of experience, I still remember how it feels to be surrounded by unfamiliar faces, not being able to communicate, missing my family.

“Well, let’s not stand on ceremony here,” King Etristo says before clapping his hands twice. “I’m ravenous.”

At the sound of his summons, servants pour in through the side door, each carrying a large gold plate. The smells that waft from the dishes are unlike anything I’ve ever experienced, and I’m not quite sure how to describe them. Spicy, yes, but there’s a sweetness as well and something else I can’t quite put my finger on. When one of the servants sets a full plate down in front of me, my mouth waters at the sight of the food—an array of beautifully arranged vegetables, seasoned rice the color of the night sky, and seared meat of some kind.