The courtiers in attendance turn their attention to the knight the moment he walks in. Many murmur under their breath. This is the first time the noble people of Draegan have seen the newly betrothed pair together, and they’re eager for gossip.
Without a word, Aeron takes his place between Rhys and Cassia.
Cassia stares at the cloth napkin on the table in front of her, looking as if she wishes she could slither under the table and disappear.
Though the two seemed comfortable enough when we were alone, having the attention of the room has made them far less so.
When the king draws Rhys and Aeron into a conversation, I stretch my foot under the table and bump Cassia’s foot with my boot.
Her eyes dart up, and I give her a smile that I hope her father doesn’t notice.
She smiles back, hiding the expression behind her hair. She’s wearing it down tonight, and it’s longer than I realized. It falls past her shoulders in a sleek sheet, making me wonder what it would feel like between my fingers.
Did she wear it down for Aeron?
The thought instantly turns my stomach sour, and I look away.
Though Edwin is usually one of the first to arrive at the dinner table, he’s the last tonight. Aeron might have captured the courtiers’ attention, but their excitement reaches new levels now. The people in attendance watch the heir to the Draeganish throne, eager to see him interact with his future bride.
Rhys stares at Amalia, looking like he’s having a difficult time holding his tongue. As far as I know, the king remains unaware of their marriage. How will they traverse this difficult situation? Will Rhys stay quiet, or will he cause a scene?
Disliking the attention, Amalia clenches her hands in her lap and stares at them.
Edwin avoids looking at both Rhys and Amalia, likely wishing he were anywhere but here.
He takes the seat to the right of his father, next to my sister. To Amalia, he murmurs, “Forgive my tardiness.”
Amalia makes a noise—whether it’s forgiveness or dismissal, I don’t know.
She’s the kindest person I know, but these people have wounded her. It’s not an injury that will easily knit, and certainly not quickly.
A line of serving men and maids appear at the door with the meal, but the king rises, holding up a hand to ask them to wait.
All eyes turn to Draegan’s monarch, and a hushed, curious silence falls over the room.
“We are waiting for one more,” he announces.
I glance down the table. As it has been these last few nights, the chairs are full, with at least fifty people in attendance. I’m sure they all came to catch a glimpse of Amalia. How disappointed they must have been when she refused to leave her room those first few days.
Tryndon sits on my right, and the youngest prince of Draegan is next to Cassia. Who could be missing that the king would hold the meal for?
“One more?” Cassia asks.
A moment later, one of the guards I’ve seen often comes into the room, pushing a wheeled chair.
I inhale sharply when I lay eyes on the frail woman who can be no one but Cassia’s mother. Her auburn hair is up, and she wears a dress of emerald green.
“Mother!” Cassia says, standing so quickly she accidentally tugs at the tablecloth and pulls it and the settings askew.
The princess hurries across the room, oblivious to the courtiers’ stares, and kneels down in front of the queen. She says something too quietly for the rest of us to overhear.
Her mother answers slowly, but that too is said softly.
Looking unsure, Cassia rises. She studies the woman with great concern, and then she leads the way to our end of the table. Edwin joins them, immediately taking his mother from the guard.
The room remains silent. A woman a few places down looks as if she’s going to cry. The men avert their eyes as though the sight of their sick queen is too much to bear.
Rhys stands and removes his chair, leaving an empty space to the left of his father. Everyone shifts, giving them room as Edwin brings their mother to the table. Tryndon joins his siblings, eager to assist.
Across the table, Calvert watches, hope shining in his young eyes.
It’s easy to read the boy’s expression, yet it’s painful at the same time. He’s wondering if this is a sign his mother is better, that after all these years, she’s finally recovering.
Calvert’s brothers and sister know better. Cassia, Edwin, Tryndon, and Rhys treat the queen with great care, touching her gently. All four look overwhelmed, as if they don’t know whether they should find joy in their mother’s presence or worry the meal will be too taxing.
How long has it been since the queen joined them? I’ve never seen her at the table—I’ve never seen her at all.
Next to me, Amalia sits frozen. Finally realizing something weighs heavy on her mind, I turn to her.
She watches the queen as if she, too, is unsure what her presence means.
“They adore her, don’t they?” she says softly.
I nod.
King Egan kneels at his wife’s side, gently grasping her hand. “Are you comfortable?” he asks quietly.
“Yes.” Her voice is wraith-soft, but she manages a smile.
“Tell me the moment you tire, all right?” King Egan then kisses her knuckles, the gesture tender enough that I must look away.
After a moment, he rises and once more takes his spot at the end of the table. To the room, he announces, “Tonight, we have a reason to celebrate.”
The king smiles at his family—a real smile full of affection. I didn’t know he had it in him, and I don’t like to be reminded that there is a human under that scheming exterior.
“A dark chapter in Draegan’s long history is about to come to an end. In less than two weeks, Edwin will marry his new bride and claim his place on Renove’s throne. We will then begin to immigrate to a blessed land.”
The cheers that follow are nearly deafening. Rhys sits back, crossing his arms as he scowls at his father.
“Also, we will be welcoming a new son into our family.” He steps around the table and places a hand on Aeron’s shoulder. “I am greatly pleased to officially announce the engagement of my Cassia and Duke Aeron of Branlin, son of my late good friend, Duke Raegan. Not only is Aeron already as good as a member of our family, but he also aided Rhys on his mission in Renove. It will be an honor to call him son.”
I clench my hands under the table when the people applaud the couple’s engagement, but I manage to keep my expression neutral.
“Tonight, I ask you to celebrate with my family and me,” the king continues. “We thank you for your loyalty through all these difficult years.”
The applause crescendos, the people apparently moved by their king’s speech. In the midst of it, my sister rises.
The room suddenly falls quiet as she walks around the table to stand by the queen’s side. She bows her head with utmost respect. “I am Amalia, Your Majesty. Braeton’s sister and a princess of Renove.”
The queen makes a noise and reaches for my sister’s hand. Amalia accepts it immediately and kneels at her side.
Rhys sits next to his mother, looking as if he’s scarcely breathing. He appears torn between dragging his wife away and letting the moment play out.
Softly, Amalia says, “I have a confession, one that must not wait. I do not wish to cause you distress, so I feel I must explain something to you before I begin. It is a consideration for you alone.”