The Princess is the most stunning person I have ever seen in my life.
Her hair is coal-dark and silken, rolled expertly into perfect coils and woven together in an intricate updo. She is tall, though at present I cannot tell whether my impression is due to her height or simply the way she holds herself. Her skin is the colour of rich chocolate, smooth and faultless, with fine features and full lips that are presently pursed together in either disapproval or curiosity.
I grasp the folds of my dress and curtsy deeply, using the opportunity to sweep my eyes over her costly silver gown and trim figure. Straightening, I smile graciously and force an expression of practiced reverence.
At once she looks away, brushing past me with nary a glance in my direction.
I remain stock still, stunned at her cold dismissal. I'm not sure what I was expecting when I finally laid eyes on the Princess Megra, but certainly this silent, impassive girl has left me shaken.
I maintain my distance as I follow the Princess and the rest of the ladies-in-waiting down the staircase to the first floor, my eyes stretching wide as we cross through the massive set of ornately carved double doors and into the Great Hall.
The room is massive. Tables draped in white linen are lined up on either side of the carpeted aisle running down the middle of the room. The carpet ends at a raised head table, where I suppose the King would sit. Behind the head table is an outer wall made entirely of glass and overlooking the courtyard. Common servants scurry back and forth, silently serving the chattering courtiers seated in front of their golden plates.
Vitrola escorts us to a table on the right side of the aisle and I sink down into a plush chair, situating myself with my back to the wall so that I can watch the goings-on. The Princess selects a seat on the opposite side of the table, appearing to half-listen as the ladies settle themselves around her and fill the air with high-pitched chatter.
I cast my gaze around the room, trying to work out the seating plan. Several older men sit at the table at the very front of the Hall, nearest the raised head table. They are all wearing red sashes tied with gold medals and sport grey facial hair trimmed into a variety of intricate patterns. Judging by their air of self-importance, I take it that these men are on the Board of advisors. Will refers to them simply as the Board. I recognize one man by his great bushy sideburns, nearly meeting at his chin and oiled to stick straight out. This is Chancellor Braun, the head of the Board and the King's most trusted advisor.
At a table on the other side of the aisle sits Will, his dark head bent low in conversation with his companion. He glances up at me, offering an encouraging nod from across the room. I duck my chin to study the variety of forks next to my plate, mentally reviewing the order and proper use of each one.
"Tell me, Miss Abby, do they teach much decorum at the Outer City Academy?"
I look up abruptly. Hawk Nose is sitting across from me, her dark, beady eyes protruding unattractively.
"My instructors were more concerned with information than formalities," I say, pleasantly. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name. Or will there be a proper ceremony for that introduction later?"
She glowers. "It's Bellany."
I immediately decide I prefer the name Hawk Nose.
"A pleasure," I say. I have made up my mind to be nice to these girls, as per Will's suggestion. Hawk Nose has another thing coming if she thinks I am going to let her antagonize me into pettiness.
We are interrupted by three sharp blasts of a horn.
"His Majesty, King Francis," a herald near the entrance to the Hall suddenly announces, projecting his voice and thrusting his staff into the ground three times.
We all scramble to our feet and, finally, the King himself strides into view.
I crane my neck to get a better look, fairly brimming with curiosity. After all this time, the oppressor will have a face.
The man marching through the Hall is an impressive sight. Immediately, I can see where the Princess gets her height from: her father stands nearly seven feet tall, towering over the brawny guards who follow close behind him. He wears a silk shirt covered by a red vest and fastened with gold buttons. His facial hair is trimmed into an intricate goatee, the dark strands shot through with streaks of silver. A solid gold band sits atop his head, flashing brightly as he sweeps his gaze over the gathered crowd. When he looks in my direction, a cold shiver runs down my spine. His eyes are black, so dark they reflect no light at all.
The King marches purposefully to the front of the room. He steps up to the head table, situating his oversized figure behind his golden dinner plate before he raises his hands in front of him and addresses the room.
"Friends." His voice matches his appearance, rich and booming through the cavernous space. "The gods of fortune have blessed us with another delicious meal. My daughter and I thank you for joining us this evening. Enjoy the feast!"
I scoff to myself as I sit with the rest of the crowd among the scraping of chairs. Typical that our impassive gods would receive credit for the servants' hard work.
A bowl filled with a rich yellow soup appears in front of me. I select the widest spoon at my disposal and scoop some into my mouth, being careful to sip slowly and silently as Will taught me.
Gods help me, it is delicious.
The soup is followed by several more courses, all of them blending together in the chaos of the surrounding conversation and the pure ecstasy of savoury food. I glance around as I eat, careful to leave a small morsel left over in each dish, comparable to what the other girls have done. It pains me to see such wonderful food go to waste and I am certain I would be able to finish every last crumb on my plate, even if it kept arriving all night long.
Between the salad and dessert course, I attempt to make conversation with the girl to my right. She is small and slight, with large doe-like features and straight black hair.
"Your dress is beautiful," I tell her, meaning it. Her gown is a soft blue, perfectly complimenting her pale skin.
The girl raises her eyebrows, seemingly surprised by my comment. "Thank you," she says slowly.
"Have you been at the Palace long?" I ask, attempting to press the conversation.
She dabs her lips delicately with her napkin. "About a year."
I wait a beat for her to embellish but am met with silence.
"And do you like it here?" I ask. Come on, girl. Give me something to work with.
She folds her napkin slowly, smoothing it over her lap. "Of course. Better here than out there. There are more common beggars bumbling through the City every day." She shudders visibly.
I stiffen, pressing my lips together.
"I know." Hawk Nose sighs from across the table. "It's so disgusting. They really ought to build a wall to keep the commoners on their own side."
A couple of girls titter in agreement.
My hands clench into fists beneath the table. "Well, they really don't have a choice, do they? I mean, if the people in the Commons can't take care of the beggars, it isn't so unreasonable of them to ask for help from the Court."
Several perfectly coiffed heads glance up at me.
"Oh, please. Don't tell me you are one of those." Hawk Nose sneers and I feel my blood boil at the sound of her nasal voice.
"One of what?" I demand.
"Those bleeding-heart, save-the-poor-commoners type. It's so boring." Hawk Nose looks down at me over the bridge of her hooked nose.
"If you're asking whether I care about what happens to them, then you're right," I retort. The dessert course arrives and I stuff a healthy-sized forkful of pie into my mouth, chewing slowly to keep from saying anything more.
Hawk Nose sneers and opens her mouth to retort, when she's interrupted by a throaty voice further down the table.
"If you're going to care about anything, better it be other people than the latest trend in hats. Wouldn't you agree, Bellany?" The Princess speaks evenly but her gaze is piercing.
Hawk Nose visibly shrinks, self-consciously fingering the ugly grey feathers adorning her updo.
I suppress the urge to laugh as Hawk Nose snaps her trap shut and digs her fork forcefully into her dessert. Glancing up, I share the briefest of looks with the Princess, thinking for an instant that I have caught a spark in her eye before she turns back to her meal.
Dinner ends when the King rises to his feet. The rest of us stand hurriedly, our chairs scraping against the stone floor. We nod respectfully when he walks back down the centre aisle, a trail of Board members in his wake. I assume they are heading back to one of the smoking rooms to discuss matters of state and make a mental note to find a way to listen in sometime.
Princess Megra steps down first, trailing several feet behind the men. I follow Vitrola and the rest of the ladies into a neat line behind her and we walk back up the aisle toward the exit. When we pass by Will's table, he throws me a wink.
As we walk back up the stairs to the fourth floor, I can't help but wonder if I could ascend faster by scaling the outer walls. The glass appears smooth and faultless from the inside but I have noticed small ledges on each floor that could be gripped. What an interesting challenge that would be.
I am so lost in my daydream that I fail to notice when we have arrived back at the parlour. I nearly crash headfirst into Plumpy, who is directly in front of me. She gives me a strange look before she walks past me into the parlour and selects a seat. The rest of the girls are already milling about, a few setting up at a table to play cards while the rest situate themselves into various chairs surrounding the Princess, filling her ears with gossip and mindless chatter about the meal.
I wander away from the larger group and ask to join the girls playing cards. They are hesitant at first but too polite to turn me away. We play a few rounds of a game I am familiar with, betting small coin amounts at a time. I purposefully lose a couple of hands but end up pocketing a sizable win overall, already planning on sending the spoils back to Lara.
The night wears on and one by one the girls trickle out of the parlour to retire. The Princess is the first to leave; soon after, the room has completely emptied. I am more than happy to return to my luxurious room, where I greet Sera and decline her offer for a pre-bed drink. I allow her to undress me and unbraid my hair, closing my eyes at the pleasant feeling of her skilled fingers working through my locks.
By the time I climb into bed, the stresses of the day have all but dissipated. I intended to revel in the comfort of the wide mattress and silk sheets for as long as possible, but am asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.