Adrienne (11 page)

She tried her best to ignore all the talking, but most of it was about her, and that made it hard. She also concentrated heavily on not using any magicks subconsciously. This wasn’t the time to find out what her unconscious mind wanted to happen to the people speaking badly about her.

From the sea of faces came a high-pitched female voice. “It is good to see our future queen has a good appetite. That bodes well for the health of any children she will provide.” Rumblings of concurrence came from several others.

Adrienne looked at her plate. It was empty. She kept her face relaxed so the horror of her mistake wouldn’t show. It went against her upbringing to leave food on her plate, but eating everything the cook offered guaranteed she wouldn’t make it through the next four courses.

Another woman, across the table from the first, added, “It is a shame the future queen isn’t more particular about the foods she eats. I remember Queen Dione would barely touch the first three courses because she felt the cook rushed them in order to give the main course enough time to finish.”

What was this “eat like a bird” nonsense? Had Malik brought Adrienne to the Civil War South and forgotten to tell her? She looked at the first woman who had spoken.

The woman, dripping with jewels that looked like they weighed more than she did, had less meat on her than a French runway model.

A man at the chancellors’ table said, “To be fair, Lady Gen, Princess Adrienne must eat more. How else could she maintain her lovely figure? If Her Highness ate like you, her breasts would shrink—as yours obviously have.” He smiled at Lady Gen’s angered look.

Oh, this man was on her Christmas card list from now on. She asked, “And you are?”

The man stood and bowed with his arm swept out to the side. He didn’t notice—or didn’t care—that he nearly hit the man sitting next to him. His deep red robes made his amber eyes and tawny shoulder-length hair look almost golden. As he straightened from his bow, he ran his fingers over the thin mustache that adorned his upper lip. It curved around the outline of his mouth, dangling to his collar.

“I am Chancellor Valah, Highness. And, while I oft times speak out of turn, I hope King Malik will not perceive my words as impertinent?”

Malik said nothing. He toasted the man.

Valah smiled and retook his seat.

At the head of the chancellors’ table, Travers cleared his throat. “I am High Chancellor Travers, Princess Adrienne.”

Adrienne nodded at him with a smile. He seemed nice enough.

“I feel the need to say Lady Gen is right about Queen Dione not eating much of the first three courses.”

“Ha,” Lady Gen exclaimed with triumph. She smiled at her tablemates.

Travers continued, “However, Lady Gen is wrong about why. Queen Dione disliked soups, salads and breads; thus she viewed the first three courses as a waste. She preferred to save her appetite for the final course.”

Valah added boisterously, “And her breasts were as full as yours, Highness.”

“Are you the resident expert on breasts, then, Chancellor Valah?” Adrienne asked with amusement.

One of the women from the Elite guards’ table called out, “He’d like to think so, Highness.”

Valah shot back, “I did not hear complaints about my expertise from you last night, Keno.” Laughter followed his words.

“You will hear complaints from me if your conversation continues to focus on my future queen’s breasts for much longer,” Malik said with a smile that held the same edge of warning as his words.

The mood in the room sobered quickly. Valah apologized, “Perhaps I took my joking too far.”

“Perhaps,” Malik agreed.

That brought an end to any further conversation with the royal couple. It also heralded the entrance of the second course. While Nimat took one dish and Hani replaced it with another, Adrienne went back to studying her dinner companions.

Valah, who seemed a little deflated, had acted as a great distraction and she wanted to speak to the man further but didn’t know how to spark up a conversation. He wouldn’t even look her way.

Laughter from the direction of Lady Gen’s table drew Adrienne’s attention. The woman looked right at her while commenting behind her hand to her companions, who all laughed again.

“You should share your joke with the room, Lady Gen. I am sure the rest of us would love a good laugh right about now,” yet another chancellor said. Unlike Valah and Travers, he didn’t introduce himself to Adrienne.

At first glance, Adrienne thought he’d sat at the chancellors’ table by mistake. He wore his brown hair in the same severe ponytail as the Elite guards. All the chancellors were lean men whose ceremonial robes dominated them. This man let his blue chancellor’s robes gape open, showing his bare-chested, muscled physique. He probably wanted everyone to see his perfect abs—why else go shirtless?

Travers agreed, “Yes, Lady Gen. I, like Chancellor Sabri, wish very much to know what is so funny.” Anger colored his words and he glared at the woman.

Lady Gen raised her chin in the air. “Truth, King Malik. Is she truly the blood-spell-selected bride? Her magickal aura seems so much weaker than yours. Such a woman is unworthy to rule at your side.”

Sabri jeered, “I’m sure you would volunteer yourself if that were the case. Everyone knows how desperately your family has courted his Majesty over the last year.”

“We have done no such thing!” Gen jumped from her chair with her hands braced in front of her. The air around her shimmered as magicks gathered around her and awaited her commands.

Travers said calmly, “King Malik has not settled because of the nearness of his birthday. The blood spell chose Princess Adrienne.” He glanced at Malik. “Besides, Chancellor Sabri, you insult the royal house of Ulan. Lady Gen’s powers are weak. She would be wholly inappropriate as a queen at King Malik’s side. She is barely a seventh-level mage.”

“You are right, High Chancellor,” Sabri said. “I had forgotten the weakness of Lady Gen’s family. Her house sits so close to the royal table—and barely ever leaves the palace—that it is easy to forget their title wasn’t earned like so many others present this night.”

Adrienne didn’t know what to say to all of the comments. Not that she needed to say anything, since the chancellors had come to her defense. They hadn’t been formally introduced to her and yet they were ready to speak on her behalf.

Valah pointed out, “I fail to see what is so amusing about the misfortune that befell our king for so long.”

“I would never make light of that,” Lady Gen rushed out. “I merely observed Princess Adrienne’s lack of a strong magickal aura. She feels weaker than me, despite High Chancellor Travers’s claims to the contrary.” This started the people whispering amongst themselves again. Many people had worry etched on their faces.

Malik shifted in his seat. All sound ceased. “This is Princess Adrienne’s first time in Ulan, and she is unused to the wild magicks to which this land lays claim. I am shielding you all from her, as the magicks act on her impulses whether she calls them or not, much like myself.”

“Like every queen who has come before her and every queen after her, Princess Adrienne is an equal to her king,” Travers boasted. He pinned Lady Gen with a look of warning. “You would do well to remember that when insulting her.”

“I did not—”

Sabri interrupted, “Sit down, Lady Gen. You are becoming annoying. I’d hate for you to lose the title your family begged so hard to achieve.”

Lady Gen bristled visibly. “My family—”

“Sit down, Gen,” Malik said in a low voice.

One and all noticed how Malik had dropped Lady Gen’s title. If Sabri’s warning wasn’t clear enough, Malik’s was. She would lose her title if she persisted.

The woman sank into her seat with wide and worried eyes. Likewise, her tablemates became overly interested in their food.

It was Adrienne’s turn to be smug. Lady Gen got exactly what she deserved. Where did she get off, attacking Adrienne like that? Sure, Adrienne embraced freedom of speech—and she was happy it existed in Ulan—but she hadn’t thought people would insult her. On the list of stupidest things in the world to do, insulting your soon-to-be queen to her face had to be one of the top five.

Suffice to say, Lady Gen became the first person on Adrienne’s list of people she didn’t like. Judging from the disapproval she’d witnessed at the beginning of the dinner, that list would grow over the next few days.

A piece of paper appeared floating next to Adrienne’s shoulder. She looked at it, then laughed behind her hand. The paper had two columns, one titled “shit list” and the other “X-mas card list”. Valah, Travers and Sabri had already made it to her X-mas card list, as well as Mushira, Nimat, Hani and Qamar. Khursid’s and Malik’s names were in the middle of the two columns with question marks after them, while Gen graced the “shit list” side with underlines and exclamation points after her name.

Malik looked over her shoulder at the paper. He smiled and whispered, “I shall ask you what “exmass” is later.”

“Christmas.” With a flick of her hand, Adrienne sent the paper back to her room. Saying the word aloud made her remember she would miss Christmas with her family this year. She sighed at her plate, her mood dropping several notches.

Mushira came forward. “Is anything amiss with your food, Highness?”

“It’s fine,” Adrienne answered mechanically. She hadn’t touched it. It could be utterly disgusting and she wouldn’t know because homesickness had replaced her appetite.

“You are not eating, Highness,” Mushira said in a worried voice.

“I’m fine, Mushira.”

“Have you lost your appetite, Princess Adrienne?” Sabri asked. “You seemed well enough a few seconds ago. You even laughed. It was a good sound.” His fellow chancellors nodded.

The chancellor that Valah had nearly hit asked, “Was the message you received upsetting news, Highness?”

All the questions being thrown at her reminded Adrienne she had to be careful when in public. It didn’t matter if she pouted and carried on in the privacy of her rooms, but in public she had to be careful. People who wanted to find a flaw, and people who wanted to gain her favor, would watch her all the time. That thought depressed her more.

She looked at the chancellor who had spoken. He was the black man she had noticed before. Grey sprinkled throughout his close-cropped black hair made him appear to be the eldest of the chancellors. His robes were a true blue, which denoted him as second to Travers.

She answered, “No, Chancellor…”

“Riler,” the man offered.

“No, Chancellor Riler. I conjured the note without meaning to. As Malik said, I tend to do things without realizing because I’m not used to Ulan.”

“Where do you hail from, Highness? You look like a daughter of Braima. Or are you a descendant of Braima whose family traveled to another kingdom?” Sabri asked.

It was a near thing, but Adrienne kept herself from looking at Malik. They had never discussed a fake origin for her to impart to people who asked. Braima was Africa. While it would be easy to claim it, any further questions would reveal the lie

She wanted to claim Biton, Bron’s version of the United States, but she didn’t know how to fight, and Biton was known for its warring clans. Males and females alike learned to fight as soon as they were strong enough to lift a weapon, if they wanted to live to see old age.

Malik answered, “As I wish to keep Princess Adrienne’s family from harm or capture, questions concerning her birthplace will be ignored. She is not from Ulan and that is all anyone need know.”

Crisis averted. The knot in Adrienne’s stomach loosened.

“Will your family attend the wedding, Princess?” Riler asked. He laughed at his question as soon as he asked it. “Of course they will. That was a stupid question. Forgive me, Highness.”

In spite of her wan smile at his words, Adrienne cried inside. She wanted her family to be there. Better yet, she wanted to be with them. Her earlier fears about dinner were realized. She didn’t know what to say to these people and every time they asked her something, she got defensive or upset. As their new queen, everyone would want to know as much about her as possible so they could gauge what type of ruler she would be. She had no answers for them that she could give.

Adrienne gave a pained gasp and snatched her hand away from the table. Something burned her. She looked at her hand to see if she would develop a blister. Mushira and Hani were immediately at her side to inquire as to her well-being.

She let them fuss over her while she looked for the source of the heat. Her eyes landed on Malik, who sipped his drink in a relaxed manner. His gaze met hers, and his eyes burned with the heat she’d felt. He was angry.

Adrienne didn’t understand what triggered Malik’s anger. Talk of his mother had ended a while ago. She opened her mouth to ask but said instead, “I think it’s time for me to retire. I’m not used to this much excitement at dinner.”

“This is normal for every meal, Highness,” Valah said.

“Then I’ll have to get used to it, obviously. But tonight is over for me,” Adrienne said with a smile. She looked back at Malik. Would he let her leave?

Malik stood—as did everyone in the room—then helped Adrienne stand. “I will escort you back.”

“We both don’t have to leave. You haven’t finished eating.” Besides, she wanted to get away from him, not spend more time with him. “Khursid and Qamar are escort enough.”

As soon as she said their names, Adrienne wondered if she had interrupted Qamar’s and Khursid’s time with their fellows. They hadn’t seen their cohorts in a while. The laughter that came from the Elite guards’ table indicated Khursid and Qamar were enjoying themselves. When Adrienne stood, she’d interrupted that.

It was too late to take it back. Not that Adrienne had any intention of recanting her words, since she wanted out of the dining hall with all speed. She would have to make it up to Khursid and Qamar another time.

Malik nodded. His grip on Adrienne’s hand tightened when she would have turned away. He bowed over her hand. “I shall see you on the morrow, my lady. Have a good night.”