"His Highness, Prince Gideon," the announcer shouted.
Gris swallowed his heart, now crawling up his throat.
I need to return Mageia!
The commander knew everything that happened on the palace grounds and the kingdom. It would not be long before the arrogant bastard mentioned the Purple Thief, who was supposed to be with Gideon since he'd returned.
Oh, I hope Dargany is returning her now, or better yet, Gideon, please play along.
He fumbled with the buttons on his vest as his stepbrother made his way to their end. He greeted everyone with a nod and his slick grin, as if he was always up to something clever.
"Family, you all look beautiful this fine day," he said as he slid into his chair, or rather, Gris' chair.
Queen Saia squealed, a hand pressed to her plump bosom. "I am so happy you are here, Gid."
"Same here," the king said. "How did your meeting go with the blacksmith?"
Gideon nodded to the servant, who placed his bowl of soup down, then gave his stepfather a bright smile. "Fine as usual. His price for the new daggers were over excessive, but with a bit of heart-to-heart encouragement," he said, bouncing his eyebrows in a flirtatious manner, "I was able to reduce it."
"Ew, disgusting." Princess Relana grimaced.
The queen's face stretched with a mother's proud smile. "You were always good with negotiations, son."
Gris looked at Orlan standing in the line of servants behind the queen and Relana and tried to mentally catch his attention. The commander's eyes narrowed in great suspicion and followed Gris' gaze, so he quickly looked away, hoping to reduce the uneasiness on his face and body language.
A hand plummeted onto his left shoulder and shook him joyously. "Grisonce! What a welcoming sight you are." Gideon smiled with all his teeth, blue eyes filled with joy.
Despite everyone's discomfort of his presence, Gideon had always been more accepting. Sometimes all Gris needed was for Gideon to be around to put everyone at ease.
"You too, Gideon."
"And he speaks," he said, eyes glistening with an underlining meaning. He brushed a strand of his blonde hair from his eyes and grinned. "Because I had a meeting to go to and didn't know when I'd return, I thought it best to summon you to replace me."
"Y-you sent the invite?" Gris asked. A part of him felt honored to be thought about, but the other half crumbled, knowing that his father wasn't the inviter.
"Yes. I thought about stopping by your chambers to see if you were still alive, but things got in the way."
"To change to a more suitable subject," Queen Saia said, her rudeness more visible than ever. "I heard that you were planning to extend the border eastward, honey?"
King Dimitri sat up. "Yes, the Council has been discussing the idea."
"But doesn't that require entering the Dauntless Mountains?" Princess Relana asked.
"It does. The Commander and I will have meetings soon about excavating the area to make sure it is now suitable for construction."
"A meeting is honestly unnecessary," Eron said, his husky voice scratching Gris' ears. "Just give the word, and my brave scouts will flush out the mountainside. It is quite simple."
"The woods in that area have been untouched for years now," the king said. "But huge projects require a lot of paperwork and negotiations, Commander. Something I know you sword bearers dread."
Commander Eron gave a sharp smile. "We do."
"Damn, this soup is delicious," Gideon interrupted. He turned to Gris, and his back straightened. "Give your chef and cooks a raise in pleasures, eh, brother?"
Brother. The very word made him both cringe and chuckle. He nodded. "Absolutely."
"Nonsense, Gid. The only raise these slaves should get is the height of the noose," Queen Saia scowled, receiving a chuckle from her daughter.
"Now, now Saia, no talking of death while we're sitting here," the king inserted.
Gris growled on the inside and had to say what shot to his mind. "Mind you, Your Majesty. These slaves worked too hard for this luncheon to receive such a distasteful remark from their queen."
The queen gasped, offended by the obvious. Gideon laughed aloud and gave Gris a nudge with his elbow.
Relana scoffed. "Well, at least you managed to say that without a single st-st-stutter." Those within earshot laughed, especially her ignorant mother. Eron gave his usual mischievous smirk, and Lord Hercones only shifted uncomfortably beside Gris.
Gris' cheeks grew hot, and he slumped a bit in his chair.
"Oh, Relana, you have some nerve to taunt our brother, knowing how you've been losing hair as of late," Gideon teased. He flipped a lock of his hair in jest.
Relana's fair skin went chalky white. She gasped in disbelief at Gideon's outburst, which brought some chuckles. Gris smiled, happy to have someone defend him for once. However, his rebuttal looked to be somewhat true by the horror overcoming her face.
"Mother, did you hear what he said? Father, please do something."
"Calm down, Rela. Gideon, apologize to your sister," the king replied lazily.
Gideon returned to his soup. "Over my dead body," he taunted.
Finally, Gris caught eyes with Orlan and gestured him over. The floor servant came around the table, and the commander did not look pleased.
"Yes, Your Highness?" he said loudly, but for good reason, Gris assumed.
He waved him closer. "I need you to deliver a message to Rasheem."
"Yes, sir."
"I just re-remembered. Tell him to return that gift. I j-just remembered. It's the w-wrong kind," he asserted with haste.
"Gift?" Orlan looked so confused, Gris' heart began to burn with panic.
"He will understand. Send the message immediately."
"Yes, sir, right away, sir," Orlan said with narrowed eyes. But he nodded his head and quickly exited into the kitchen.
"You bought someone a gift, am I hearing correctly, brother?" Gideon leaned so close to him that he could smell the mixture of his cologne with the blacksmith's rusty odor.
Gris' clamped his lips shut, unable to speak, but his head nodded for him.
"Really?" Gideon said, oddly impressed, as if Gris was incapable of the task.
"Yes," Gris forced out.
"To whom? Me, I hope. I did invite you," Gideon said.
Which I'm only finding out now.
"Who cares, really?" Queen Saia shrugged.
"I do." Relana leaned forward. "Did you get something for me?"
"Why would he get something for you, Rel? You just insulted him."
She rolled her eyes at Gid, but she still looked curious.
"It was for neither you nor Relana. It was for father," he lied. Luckily, Gris had thought the lie through.
He waited for the man's reaction. His father looked at him fully, with no hesitation, his hard eyes softening to pure curiosity and shock. "How nice of you."
Son, Gris wanted to hear, but it didn't leave his lips. Gris could read it in his eyes, though, and pressed a smile.
"I had forgotten that silk gives you rashes," he said slowly to prevent a stutter. "I was supposed to return the robe earlier and forgot. You know how fr-frisky those tailors get when it comes to their supposed artwork."
"True. True," Gideon bobbed his head while indulging in his wine.
"I will get you another, father," Gris said. Despite it being a part of a lie, Gris made a vow to get his father an actual gift in hopes of being more recognized.
The king stared at him for a while, blinking. Then a kind smile stretched across his face, and he nodded. "Thank you very much, Grisonce."
Gris trembled on the inside when he said his name. How strange that it had been a long while since he heard his father say his full name without some sense of rebuke. The table fell silent as everyone returned to their soup.
He tried hard to suppress the smile that wanted to conquer his face. Perhaps this was a good idea to come. Everyone may still dislike him, but these small moments are what he would cherish.
"Prince Gideon, Your Highness," Eron's voice bellowed across the table.
Gris' heart skipped a beat.
"Yes, Commander Shadarrrrr." Gideon seemed strangely happy to converse with him.
Eron ignored his taunt with narrowed eyes. "You returned some of your escorts today."
Oh no! Oh, gods, no! Gris' heart thumped in his ears, panic erasing his sense of peace.
"Yeah, I did. Only four of them." Gideon shrugged like it was no big deal.
"Including your Knight Escort, which is against protocol," Eron reprimanded.
"Damn, Shadar, I know, but he wasn't feeling well, and I had the other four."
"Still," Eron said with the firmness of the commander that he was. Gris frowned, realizing the strangeness of Eron's authority when both he and Gideon shared the same age of nineteen.
"If you wanted to tag along, all you had to do was say so," Gideon teased, eyebrows waggling flirtatiously.
Eron's upper lip twitched in disgust, but Relana voiced it for him. "Oh, that is disgusting, Gid."
"I'm just saying." Gideon chuckled.
"The purpose of protocol is safety," Eron continued.
Gideon grinned, obviously enjoying this conversation. "Well, I am overjoyed to have you care so much about my safety, ser fireborn."
Eron's jaw locked from the name-calling. Relana giggled this time, glancing and batting her eyelashes at the Fiisen, who merely gave her a quick side glance.
"But I know. Sometimes they are no fun," Gideon said.
"The job of a royal escort is not to join in on your fun," Eron glowered.
The prince gave a dismissive wave and continued meddling in his food.
"Next time, keep your designated ten," the king said.
"Yes, magnificent father. I shall abide by the laws and the rules of protocol," Gideon sneered.
The king shook his head in either boredom or annoyance.
From the corner of Gris' eyes, Eron's unwavering glare expressed he was not finished with the conversation.
"So, did you return—" Eron said, but before he could finish, Gris interrupted with a forced smile.
"Why don't we cut to the main meal, father?"
"Yes, I am starving," Gideon agreed, unaware of the redirection.
"Good idea. I think some of our guests are finished their appetizers down there," the king said. He gestured to the servants, and they all exited into the kitchen for the main meal. Everyone dispersed into new conversations. Gideon described in great detail the weapons he bought to the king. Queen Saia spoke quietly to her daughter and fixed the hem of her dress to fit some type of perfection.
However, he and Eron locked gazes filled with the utmost hate. Gris' throat closed, like it could feel the Fiisen's hands squeezing it and burning him alive. He knew that Eron was aware that something was up, especially since he interrupted him. Of course, the commander would find out what he'd done. If only Mageia wasn't in his presence when Ser Merlin and Dargany collected her, the possibility of him finding out would've been lower than fifty percent. Now, Gris could only pray to Holy Mesori for an ounce of good fortune in this situation.
He quickly scanned the huge dining hall for Dargany. Even if he hadn't returned Mageia himself, the proper method to inform him that he had successfully completed his task was to simply appear. The hour to have Mageia had long passed, but even if Orlan successfully delivered his message and Dargany had returned Mageia, he was still in deep waters.
He would have to explain his reasonings for summoning Mageia, which would show that he'd disobeyed his father and proved he could not be trusted. Worse yet, they could take their anger out on Mageia. So, he had to tread waters carefully since Eron wanted to be petty.
The main meal exited the kitchens and was distributed to everyone. The pulled chicken breast was lathered in an herbal gravy and sat beside slices of honeyed bread and lettuce. Gris remembered talking to the chef about how lunch should be a fun meal, a meal to get one's hands dirty. No one seemed to complain as they made their sandwiches the way they liked. Extra condiments were placed on the table, and everyone possessed pleased smiles.
Eron did not touch his food nor avert his eyes from Gris. Gris shifted in his chair, trying to come up with some excuse to dismiss himself. Nothing seemed like a good idea except to defend himself properly and keep his promise to Mageia.
Then the inevitable happened. Eron cleared his throat, glaring at Gideon. "Prince Gideon. Did you return your company to the Doomed?"
Gris held his breath, eyes glued on his trembling fingers fumbling with the bread. Gideon leaned forward. "Company? What do you mean?"
"Ser Merlin and Dargany came and took her to your quarters for when you returned."
"Who?" A questionable expression crossed Gideon's face.
Eron's eyes burned with fire. "The Purple Thief. Did you not request to have her for company?"
"Ew, now that's just horrid, Gid," Relana said, and her mother shivered in agreement.
Gideon grinned, but he still looked rather confused. "I did not request for her, Commander."
Everyone fell silent, now glancing from an awe-struck Gideon to a furious Eron.
"Are you sure?" Eron probed.
Gideon chuckled with both curiosity and humor at the very thought. "Yes. I think I'd know if I had a purple-eyed beauty waiting in my chambers."
Gris froze. Everyone froze, watching Eron's fists clench and his ivory skin deepen into a darker tone. When Gris looked up from his plate of untouched food, everyone was staring at him.
Uh oh... Gris thought as ice ran through his veins. Say something!
"You sent the request, didn't you?" Eron accused.
Gris gave an irritated sigh, wishing he could drown the fiery bastard. "You're s-such an asshole, Eron."
"What's the point of protocol when no one follows it?" Eron spat.
"You brought that sorceress into the palace?" The king's face flustered with anger.
All eyes were on him, and his mouth opened and closed like Rasheem's. He felt the color in his face drain, and as much as he tried to regather himself more, he fell apart with a terrible stutter.
"W-well t-techni-nically she was alr-ready in the p-palace," he said, heart stammering into his ears.
"Yes, but in a secured location," the king barked at him. He felt 5 years old again.
"I-if it w-was Gid, it w-would've been f-fine," he pointed out.
"That's true," Gideon agreed, but when King Dimitri's eyes glared at him, his smile vanished and his lips sealed shut.
"You should know better," his father scolded, pointing a chubby finger at Gris.
"Is she now in your chambers?" Eron asked.
"Maybe." Murmurings of fright rose, and Queen Saia cursed at him. Gris fumbled with his vest, fear gripping his jaw so tightly it began to ache.
"What do you mean, maybe?" Eron said, crimson eyes scorning him.
"I h-had s-someone to return her, but I d-don't know if it's been done yet."
"It's Dargany, isn't it?" Eron said. He nodded, unable to spit out a yes seeing no matter how this went, the royal escort would be discovered and get in trouble.
"You made Dargany break rank in your scheme and implement Ser Merlin unknowingly," Eron growled.
Gris was stuck on a decent response. He tried to say something, but his quick thoughts and his staggering tongue would not work together. Thick globs of sweat began to bead on his forehead, with everyone's eyes on him. Chuckling arose from down the table.
Relana burst out laughing with her mother. But everyone else appeared serious and curious. The room grew hotter and his terrible outfit scratched against his skin. Gris sealed his lips shut to cease further failing Mageia and his promise to her because of his damn defect and the shattering of his pride.
"Grisonce, how dare you defy me. I denied your request earlier," King Dimitri exploded, catching the attention of more of their guests.
Gris wanted to say something else to defend himself, but his tongue sat twisted in his mouth, and his words cluttered at the back of his throat. He glanced at his father, then to Gideon for help, but he just stared at him with amusement.
Eron shook his head, but his red eyes flickered with dark humor, just as he'd done when he'd bullied him at the Academy. Of course, he knew what he'd done. He had succeeded in his goal of embarrassing him, yet again.
Suddenly, a thunder of footsteps arose in the corridor. Soldiers and guards ran into the dining hall, falling into a protective stance around the entrances. Eron shot to his feet to meet the one jogging towards him.
"What is it?"
"It's the Purple Thief, Ser. You won't believe this. She's loose within the palace."
Everyone's jaw dropped, and gasps of horror ricocheted off the walls. But their fear did not compare to the one responsible for bringing her into the palace.