Claude de Lune

Europa

The attendant led him up to the second floor and down a corridor to a door at its end. "This will be your room for the night. I had a bath brought up already. Dinner will start soon."

A thick, hand-woven rug depicting a hawk in flight cushioned his feet when he walked inside. Nice, probably worth more money than he'd ever seen in his life, and he was ruining it with his gross, sweaty feet. His bath sat under the window, and its spicy scent filled every corner of the room. A bed took up most of the room's space, its four posters like tree trunks. Claude ran his hand over the sheer canopy draping the entire affair. So this is how a king lives.

Claude crossed to the small seating arrangement next to the hearth and set his wine down next to a basket of ripe strawberries. Sitting next to it was a long black box tied with red ribbon. A welcoming gift? Or an apology from Quintus? No, he wasn't the type to apologise, and it smelt too nice to be from him.

Only a wooden card lay beyond the ribbon and sweet perfume. He turned it over in his hands, and studied the hand-painted rose on one side, then the script on the other.

Claude,

I hope this note finds you in good spirits and health. I wish I could've been in Avaly to give you a proper send-off, but alas, I am needed elsewhere. Take my blessing with you to the archives. Should anyone give you trouble, show them this card.

All the best, Octavia.

So much for delivering the letters.

***

Claude found the dining hall tucked away in the northeast corner of the castle. He'd expected chandeliers and glittering crystal goblets and silverware polished to a high shine. What he got was a cosy room with heavy wooden furniture, rugs of animal pelts, and firelight courtesy of the sconces fixed to the walls.

It seemed he was the last to arrive for dinner. The king sat at the head of the table, speaking animatedly with a young girl at his right. Quintus was in deep conversation with two other people, but looked up as soon as Claude walked in.

"You're late."

Claude shot him a withering look and took the only vacant chair. His hair still dripped from his rushed bath and he'd had no time to pick the few pieces of lint from his trousers. Only the prospect of being snapped in two stopped him from flying across the table and throttling Quintus.

"I'll introduce you to everyone." Quintus waved a hand towards the other end of the table. "You know Jaredeth, Sovereign King of the Avalian lands, the most beautiful creature to have walked this world, the love of my life."

The King's eyes nigh disappeared into his head. "You can cut the theatrics, my darling; the governors are long gone." He cut his gaze to Claude. "You're the Claude Octavia spoke of? The one who made the dress?"

"The very one. It's a pleasure, your Majesty." Claude tried for a bow, but the King waved a hand to stop him.

"Please don't. I've seen more crowns of hair than faces today."

"Oh, me, me. Introduce me next," the little girl beside Jaredeth said, bouncing in her chair.

"All right." Quintus flourished a hand towards the girl. "Claude, this is Princess Jaliah. Tea party enthusiast, fan of frills and ribbons and Sovereign Princess of the Avalian lands."

"Hi! Miss Octavia said you make pretty dresses." Jaliah grinned up at Claude.

He shrugged. "Sometimes. But mostly I just patch holes and sew buttons back on."

Quintus cleared his throat and nodded to the man and woman on his right. "Lastly, we have Amadeus and Undine, two of our resident necromancers."

The pair gave Claude a half-hearted wave. They seemed nondescript compared to Octavia and Quintus—who were larger than life in both personality and presence. Undine was dark-skinned like Octavia and wore the wild coils of her hair like a lion wore its mane. While Amadeus was tawny and slight with glasses framing his grey eyes.