"Lena."
I pried my eyes open at the sound of my name.
"You've overslept," Analiese said from the edge of her bed where she was sitting as she pulled on her shoes.
I sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, and yawned. It felt like I had only just fallen asleep before she was calling my name.
Most of my night had been spent tossing and turning, thinking about Ró. Thinking about the promise he made. I left him there with every intention of getting to my bed and sleeping away the memory—pretending it had all been a dream because a dream was what it felt like.
The peaceful slumber I anticipated eluded me when I returned to my bed. I laid awake for what seemed like hours staring at the dark ceiling and replaying every moment of our conversation. Over and over again.
Ominira.
The word was stuck in my mind even as I rushed to dress for the day ahead. Draped over the small storage chest was my day dress. It was old and the material worn, but it still fit well enough. I grabbed it and pulled it over my head, tying the strings so that the gray material cinched at my waist where the skirt flowed to mid-calf. Grabbing all my hair, I twirled it around and into a bun on top of my head and secured it in place with a pin.
"You got in late," Analiese said questioningly.
"Shouldn't you already be up there?"
A frown pulled at her lips. I immediately regretted snapping at her, but whatever I'd gotten myself into, she didn't need to be a part of it. Analiese finished lacing her shoes in tense silence and then stood. I thought she was going to leave without another word, but instead, she turned back to me.
"Everyone's to report to the kitchen before anything else," she said, her tone irritated.
Analiese slammed the door shut behind her and I sighed toeing on the simple white silk-made flats that were daily attire unless we were leaving the paestra and laced them around my ankles. Smoothing my dress down and checking for anything out of place, I confirmed I looked just as I should and left the room, jogging up the stairs.
The main kitchen was located on the floor just above ground level and was easy to access from the stairwell. I pushed open the door that exited the stairwell right into the kitchen, avoiding any Morrí in the paestra who had already made their way into the dining room for an early breakfast. It would be a few more hours before most of them were up and the tables in the dining room were full. I was the last to arrive which was made worse by the fact that every other girl was standing still in two lines listening to our veetrala as she spoke.
The elder Morrí woman was not as decorated as many of her peers, her hair, whiter now than the deep shade of green it had been when I first arrived at the paestra, was kept in a tight bun and she wore little makeup without occasion. Her title and occupation were the only things that defined her life. In that, she was similar to me...except everything she was, was by choice. For her, the position was an honor.
She got pleasure from having power over us all. It was Veetrala Faedra who was in charge. She told us where to go, what to do, when to take a break, and when there was a perceived call for it, she was the one who took charge of any punishment. That, I was sure, was her favorite part.
Whatever she had been saying was cut short at my arrival. Her eyes, the color entirely black so that it was impossible to differentiate pupil from iris, snapped to me. They narrowed and held my eyes for a long moment, promising something awful as a punishment, before she continued with her speech. She took it personally when we messed up. If we were late or unkempt, she viewed it as a sign of disrespect, a show of human rebellion.
"Appearance is everything," she said. "If your clothes are unclean, get them in the laundry—" her eyes roved over each of us, her nose crinkling in disgust, "Those of you with rips and stains are to leave here and report directly to laundry for something new. Do not be seen walking around as you are in front of our visitors."
How long would these visitors be in town? Who were they that the Morrí wanted to spend so much time impressing them? I lost myself in my own thoughts as she continued to speak, going over what must be done and what was expected of us. Representatives of the other crowns, I guessed. I thought about the people I encountered during the previous night's soiree and knew they were important in one way or another. The way Ró had scared off the younger Morrí, the promise of freedom he made, I knew he must have been high ranking. Probably a military officer or zashar's guard to whichever kingdom he was from. That Faedra was going over all of this now only confirmed those thoughts. The Morrí wanted to put on a good face for their foreign friends.
She dismissed most of the girls to get on with their day but ordered several of us to hang back. I was sure she hated having me hang back, but whatever it was for it was important because the four of us left had been in service of the zashar the longest. We would not be an embarrassment or commit any faux-pas.
"There will be a late breakfast served for the zashar and his esteemed guests. You four get up to the private dining to assist Marlee." We all nodded and started toward the stairs. "You stay," she snapped before I could make my escape.
"You believe it is acceptable to arrive late when I've summoned you?"
Some of the girls had warmer feelings toward Veetrala, they respected her somehow, looked up to her. I had no such feelings. She never called us by name, though I was sure after spending so long ordering us around she knew them all. It was a choice. Knowing our names was not something she cared to learn. I would have thought it necessary to refer to us by name since there were more than twenty of us, but she managed without. It simply wasn't worth the effort it took to learn and use the names given to us by our families.
"No, Veetrala," I said, bowing my head in forced deference. I didn't apologize because I knew she hated it. I also wasn't sorry, but I wouldn't admit that.
"You will serve at breakfast and then report to the bagrai. Maybe a day of cleaning up after the criminals will teach you to arrive on time and not disrespect your superiors."
When it became clear she had nothing further to say, I left. My feet couldn't carry me from her presence quickly enough. I rushed up several flights of stairs until I was pushing open the door to Zashar Juleen's private kitchen. Marlee, who was already speaking with Mia, Camille, and Danielle turned to me and smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corner.
"Last minute breakfast," she announced speaking to us without stopping what she was doing as she worked to ready the meal. She sounded frazzled and I didn't blame her. She was rolling dough in a rush, creating pastries for the occasion. It was something I knew she usually did all the prep work for the evening prior to a breakfast such as this one, and then simply had to cook them in the morning.
"Set the table please," she said, pointing with one flour covered hand toward a neat stack of dishes. "Make sure there isn't a water mark on the plates and the silver is polished. Understood?"
We nodded and excused ourselves to set the table. Camille and Danielle grabbed the plates while I reached under the counter and into a cabinet where we kept the polish for the silver and Mia found the tablecloth. She walked beside me, placing distance between us and the other two girls.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I would have woken you if I realized you overslept."
"No need to apologize." I shrugged. "I slept poorly."
"Is it bad?"
"Cleaning the bagrai when breakfast is done."
Her face scrunched up in disbelief confirming that she felt the same way about it that I did. The punishment was excessive for my tardiness. But Veetrala had never taken it easy on me. She wasn't easy on anyone, but something about me seemed to really get under her skin. I always assumed it was my father's involvement with the rebellion. Any opportunity that presented itself to her, Veetrala would make a snide remark about my father or his death. Sad attempt to egg me into overstepping or defending my family. Then she would have had an excuse to kick me out. She didn't trust me not to be like him and work against the Morrí.
"You vanished last night," Mia said quietly as she spread the cloth over the table and began to smooth it out. There was no accusation, but I could hear the questions behind her words.
I spread a dishtowel over the clean cloth and set the silver on it to begin polishing.
"Did I?" I asked nonchalantly. Now was not the time for this conversation.
She sat next to me and picked up a fork and polishing cloth to work on, yet her eyes were pinned on me. She looked hurt.
"Have I done something to lose your trust?"
"Of course not," I said quickly.
Mia was the only person on the planet that I trusted. If I planned on telling anyone what happened, it would be her. Other girls, I could speak to, help, and get along with just fine. But I did not trust them. Living here, everyone looked out for themselves.
We had it better than most. We had beds, access to food regularly, clean water for drinking and showering, and we were never hit in the face. With the benefits there was a catch, we were watched more closely, punished for the smallest of infractions. It didn't take much to be dismissed from duty and if that happened, we were placed where they felt fit. With a veetrala as vindictive as Faedra, it wasn't uncommon that a girl dismissed from servitude in the paestra ended up in the lupaenar.
Most wouldn't hesitate to betray another if it meant saving their own skin. Here, we laughed and shared so much, but there was no sense of family, sisterhood, or loyalty. Not with the threat of being sold to a whorehouse looming over us.
Mia was placed at the paestra several arra before I arrived and, at the time, we were the youngest here, both from similar situations. We'd leaned on each other then and grew up together in the paestra. If I were going to tell anyone where I had been last night, what thoughts kept me up all night, it would be Mia.
I wouldn't tell her though. Trust wasn't the issue. If she knew what I was considering it could put her in the same danger I would be in.
"A Morrí man requested I walk with him," I told her a half-truth. Just enough to wipe the hurt from her face but not so much that it could have placed her in danger.
Her eyebrows came together in concern. "Did something—"
"No," I cut her off shaking my head. "Not at all. We just walked."
She sat back in her chair, lips pursed, and her fingers worked to polish the silver she held. Mia mulled it over a while, trying to determine how truthful I was being.
"That's odd, Lena."
I hummed in agreement, nodding my head slowly. "I know."
"He wanted to speak with you?"
"He is not from Aurael," I said quietly to avoid anyone overhearing.
She perked up, forgetting any pretense of polishing silver, and twisted in her chair to face me head-on.
"Is he going to be here?"
I chewed on my lip. I'd been wondering the same thing. "I'm not certain. Probably."
"What did you speak about?"
I was toeing the edge of what I could and could not say. Mia was perceptive and if I gave her too much she might have connected the dots. I wondered how she would react if I told her what he wanted and what he offered in return.
"He wasn't very talkative."
"No?"
"I got the impression he just wanted some company."
Mia failed at holding back her laughter. "And he thought you were the best person to get that from?"
My laughter joined hers as I said, "He is Morrí, maybe they like their friends to hate them."
We worked together quietly laughing. Mia continued to make comments about how I really was the perfect human for a Morrí to befriend. "He must have seen the loathing on your face and thought to himself, that's the human for me," she said through her giggles. That was probably true, I thought to myself and my own laughter joined hers. Laughing about it all with Mia made it not seem like such a dangerous ledge I was teetering atop.
"You won't tell me his name?" I shook my head adamantly. Mia's eyes narrowed, her nose scrunched up she looked like she wanted to give me a piece of her mind and if we were alone she might have. "Then how will I know which one?"
"I suppose you won't."
"I'm going to guess," she declared, "and if I get it right you owe me."
"What are you going to guess?" Camille said dropping into the seat across from Mia.
"How long it takes for Zashar Juleen to lose his cool," she said in a low whisper without missing a beat. "Lena thinks he'll go the whole meal, you know, putting on a good face for his guests. I give him until they start the second course."
"I'm in. The last breakfast I served at," Camille whispered conspiratorially, "Teirso was nearly beheaded with a butter knife thrown across the room."
We all giggled quietly at the image. "You're being dramatic," Mia said.
"I'm not," Camille insisted. "Not at all. I just wish I had known what they were discussing."
"I hope we have some entertainment today," Danielle said with a grin.
Camille and Mia both agreed. I laughed along with them but didn't feel the same. I could use a boring, run-of-the-mill sort of day. But when everything was in place and the room doors slid open to reveal our guests, it looked like the girls were going to get their wish. It would not be the boring breakfast I had hoped for.
The tall, elegant, and completely evil form of Ilya, who I had the unfortunate luck of meeting the previous evening was the first to step out of the elevator. She thought herself rather important at the party and to get an audience with the zashar, I knew it hadn't been just an act. Following close behind her was another Morrí who appeared about the same age as Ilya and could have been her clone. A more masculine clone. I recognized him immediately as the Morrí man who had been staring with interest as Ró warned me to be careful with my words. His hair, the same teal color as Ilya's, was cut much shorter and neatly styled in a way that revealed how much effort he put into appearance. Their eyes were exactly the same. Beautiful in color, but cold and intense. Not the kind of eyes I wanted to catch the attention of.
Luck had not been on my side this arra. Ilya sneered at me, remembering my insult from the previous night. Her brother lifted one eyebrow as he looked at me, appraisingly, his cold eyes setting a chill to my bones. I wanted to cower under his gaze and I got the distinct impression that was exactly what he wanted me to do—not just me, everyone. So I stood tall, pretending not to notice his unnerving stare.
Behind them, three older Morrí stepped off of the daziem and into the room. One I recognized immediately though I'd never seen him before. It was clear that he was a father to Ilya and her brother. They were his spitting image. On his arm was a beautiful Morrí woman, his wife, I guessed. Her hair was striking and silver, piled on top of her head, and her eyes, though not the same color as the rest of her family were equally cold. The last wasn't someone I could place. Maybe a guard. Morrí who held power of any kind could typically take care of themselves, but many had guards as much for extra protection as to flaunt the status of affording one.
I stepped forward, head bowed to avoid making eye contact, and took their coats. While I hung their coats on the rack, Camille and Danielle helped them into their seats.
"Doesn't even have the decency to greet his guests?" Ilya said, making a face as she sat.
I turned back to the daziem as it made another whirling sound, announcing more guests. I plastered a smile on my lips as I turned to greet our guest, but it slipped the moment I saw him. Ró stepped into the room ahead of two others trailing him. If he was surprised to see me, he did not show it. He slipped off his jacket and handed it to me without more than a glance in my direction. I assumed he must be the guard of the other occupants.
Behind him, a couple followed, and it became apparent he was not just their guard. There was a striking resemblance between Ro and the couple behind me. The man carried himself in the same tall, threatening manner. He seemed to command the room in a way that I never seen Zashar Juleen do. He didn't wear the same natural smile that seemed to always grace his son's face, but he had the same dark blue hair and sort of charm to him. The woman at his side didn't look much like Ró, but I guess it was her who gave him the smile that was so often on his lips... and the eyes. Her eyes, amethyst like her hair, matched his completely.
His family must have been sent as delegates from their respective cities. Maybe these guests were the military leaders or the right hand to their respective zashars.
Despite expecting to see him, I was surprised. I hadn't expected him to be...well, he didn't seem to think himself important enough to be the child of a family so closely tied with Morrí royalty. Not like Ilya and her brother. I kept the smile on my face as I took their coats and helped them get seated. The first course of breakfast, yogurt served beautifully with an array of fresh fruits was on the table before Juleen arrived. As I guessed, the Morrí man who didn't bear any resemblance to another, stood off against a wall, hands neatly folded. Since there were only seven guests and the table seated ten, Mia and I each grabbed a chair and quickly removed it from the room.
Zashar Juleen entered the room only when he was sure he would have everyone's attention. I'd learned he liked to make people wait for him. It made him feel powerful. As he entered and took his seat, everyone stood and greeted one another, and I did not miss that when they each bowed their heads to Juleen he returned the gesture. It wasn't something I'd ever seen him do and I hadn't expected it today considering the tension between the great cities.
Camille and Danielle stood off to one side, waiting to clear dirtied dishes while Mia and I waited the table. I grabbed a pitcher full of water and waited, observing their glasses so I could make sure each remained full without anyone having to ask.
The food was mouthwatering, a far cry from the rice and meat we typically filled our stomachs with each morning. The berries that decorated the table were vibrant in color and had such a sweet smell that I could almost taste the flavor inside despite that I had never had one before. Sometimes I thought it would be worth it to make a run for the food. I could probably get a good mouthful of the berries and taste their flavors before I was killed. There were worse ways I could imagine leaving this existence. Of course, if Ró had been truthful—if he really could grant me freedom it would not be wise to sacrifice myself for berries right then.
Considering where he was currently seated there was a good chance that he could make good on such a promise.
The conversation between the guests and their host was stilted at best. I listened to their forced words and thinly veiled threats as the older Morrí discussed treaties and law, painfully boring topics that I quickly lost interest in. Had I been paying closer attention I might not have been taken by such surprise. As it were, I stepped forward to refill Ró's glass with water, paying more attention to him than to anything else. Nothing gave away that we knew each other, that we'd spoken. He was exceptionally good at pretending. I wasn't sure what to make of such a skill.
"It seems my son had grown fond of your city, Juleen," the man who I'd correctly assumed was Ró's father announced. The tone of his voice suggested, he did not agree with his son on the matter. I bit back any amusement at the obvious dig and continued to listen. "Laere Eliró has decided to extend his stay."
The words processed in my brain like a lightning bolt and the world around me seemed to move in slow motion. Slow as it moved, I didn't have time to prevent, only watch, as my hand slipped and the pitcher clanged against Ró—no, Laere Eliró's now full glass of water and caused the entire thing to tip. Water spread quickly over the tablecloth and down onto the future leader's lap. For a second, I was frozen, shocked as much by the discovery as the mistake. Laere Eliró pushed back from the table so suddenly that I barely managed to avoid being struck by his chair.
I sat the pitcher to the side and quickly righted his glass. Mia was already beside me, holding a stack of napkins. Everyone's eyes were on me and I felt my cheeks heat in embarrassment as Ilya muttered a nasty comment under her breath. The others serving watched in shock but, aside from Mia, made no move to assist. I wasn't one who messed up, who made mistakes like this. To spill a glass all over the table would have been bad enough on its own, an embarrassment to Zashar Juleen on a regular occasion.
But this hadn't been a regular breakfast.
Juleen was hosting the zashars of Sierual and Eoezelle.
And I had spilled water all over a Morrí heir.
I looked toward Laere Eliró, my eyes downcast. Whatever conversations and encounters we had previously, I did not dare presume to meet his eyes in such a formal setting.
"I apologize—" I began, unable to keep the tremble from my voice.
"I am at fault, faemulis," he said.
Taking the dry cloth napkin, I held out to him, Ró blotted himself dry and began to laugh. I stood dumbfounded for a moment. He was protecting me. Dismissing me with a wave of his hand, Laere Eliro explained to the rest of the table what happened. Using exaggerated gestures and making a joke of the whole thing, he told the table in his own language how he had bumped me.
"I forget how weak they are," he said, laughing. "The smallest bump and they fall over."
They all, even Juleen, ate up his lie, laughing along with him as he joked. With a fresh pitcher of water, I carefully refilled the laere's glass and stepped back out of the way. I didn't want to risk being bumped again. As I stepped back Mia raised her eyebrows.
The meal continued smoothly, but I could hardly focus. I listened to their conversation, more interested than ever to know more. I was not sure where he was from. Not here, obviously. He was going to rule one day, either Sieraul or Eoezelle. It should not have mattered, I couldn't tell anyone a thing about either place, but I wanted to know everything I could. Tauzil, Ilya's brother who seemed as cold and aloof as she, was also an heir.
None of it made sense though. Yes, we were lectured on the importance of decorum for as long as our visitors were present, but why would Zashar Juleen not make a bigger show of announcing his Sierual and Eoezelle counterparts? They weren't even staying in the paestra for the duration of their visit. Though considering the lack of trust, that wasn't so shocking. Still, these were Juleen's equals, and it was strange that who they were hadn't been more publicized.
It all sort of came crashing over me then. Laere Eliró, soon to be zashar of his own sector wanted me to spy for him. I had one guess at my target. My eyes moved to the head of the table where Zashar Juleen sat.
The realization should have been enough to dissuade me from ever speaking with him again. It should have been the nail in the coffin of a million reasons why it was so foolish to assist Eliró. I had no desire to be caught in a dangerous game between rulers. My imagination wasn't wild enough to think up all the ways that Juleen might torture me for such an act of betrayal.
Yet, discovering that truth was a little exciting. It meant he was telling me the truth last night. I had questioned Ró's power, but there was no questioning the influence of Laere Eliró. He had very real power.
Laere Eliró was someone who could keep his word on a promise of ominira.