He directed a look at Meilyr that washed his insides with ice. The earl had weighed what was before him at surface level, and enjoyed what he saw.
‘Majesty. Highness Meilyr Cadogan, it is good to meet you.’
His accent was harshly Khaimlic, Meilyr’s name hard and disjointed where it should have flowed.
Meilyr lowered his head, supressing a shiver. ‘Thank you, Lord Leighton.’
‘My pleasure. I must say, the praise throughout the court does not do you justice. You fit here as though made for it, regardless of your blood. If I may say, the prince is a lucky man indeed.’
‘That I am,’ Prince Osian said. ‘I trust you will enjoy the festivities, Lord Leighton.’
‘I am sure I will. Fascinating choice, Majesty. Fascinating.’
Meilyr prayed he would never have to receive that look again. It left him feeling unclean and even more on edge, reduced to little more than prey in this space where he could neither arm himself nor cry for help.
He sensed rather than saw the next person as she moved into the space to introduce herself, her arrival clearing some of the air Lord Leighton had left behind. She had been sat with them at the head table on the prince’s other side, before approaching from the front.
‘Highness Demelza, the king’s consort,’ Prince Osian introduced with fondness, rising.
Meilyr also rose, and bowed as low as he could.
‘No need for that, Majesty.’ The kind creases beside her eyes spread. ‘Highness Cadogan’ – he would absolutely never get used tothat– ‘it is good to meet you. Please, sit.’
Highness Demelza’s twin braids artfully held back the fall of auburn-brown hair from her pale features. ‘I trust this is… a lot,’ she said. ‘So many people to meet, and to remember. But I promise, it will seem a little easier as time goes by.’
Meilyr’s smile was probably rather strained. ‘Thank you, Your Highness.’
The king of Khaim’s consort. The wife of Osian’s father.
She was not queen, he knew. There was no current queen of Khaim. But there was something regal and maternal about her: she was perhaps in her late forties, though it was hard to tell.
‘Please, call me Demelza. I am unyieldingly fond of the young man beside you, so I hope we can come to know one another better. I know first hand how taxing this all is, so should you need anything, please do not hesitate to ask. You may also ask anything of Lady Faina.’ She gestured to the young woman beside her, who dipped an artful curtsy, head full of tight, bobbing curls. ‘She is Eascild’s Keeper of Books, and one of my dearest friends.’
‘Charmed, and honoured,’ Lady Faina said. ‘Highness Cadogan. Majesty.’ She was sharply attractive: angled cheeks, eyelids dusted with gold powder, striking against her tanned skin. She addressed the prince with familiar ease. ‘I cannot believe you didn’t invite us! Wait until a certain someone hears about this.’
The prince braced himself, but there was mirth in it. ‘We only wished for something small. I am not my sister.’
‘And we are all blessed.’ Lady Faina winked: a joke shared. Quite comfortably, she came and perched in the empty seat at Meilyr’s other side. ‘I trust everyone has given you a thousand names? Let me help, as Keeper of Books – and that is the wonderful-smelling tomes of the reading rooms, rather than any financial nonsense – I like to know everything I can about everyone.’
‘She truly does,’ Highness Demelza warned affectionately. ‘If you need rescuing, you know where to find me.’ She dipped her head with a wink of her own and returned around the dais as two other courtiers approached the table.
Lady Faina chattered warmly, as though they had been acquainted for years. From anyone else it might have been uncomfortable, but there was something charming about her that proved distracting. Her eagerness was almost infectious, not unlike the wine, which Meilyr nursed as she talked.
He had not had wine since… Well, it had been a long time. It would fuzz his head, especially on an empty stomach, but it might help dampen his nerves.
Gods, he had somehow married a gods-damned prince ofKhaim– surely he could get heinously drunk if he chose.
‘And Lord Glede, there, with the rather-too-obvious wig. I remembered his name by thinking, goodgledes, what an awful wig.’
The face she made cracked his own with sheer, scandalised surprise.
Her grin broadened in victory, before she settled. ‘Of course, there’ll be more of them arriving soon, so the whole headache of remembering everyone starts over. But I’ll help then as well, if you’d like.’
He had been keeping up so far, though her relaxed diction made his own reflexive formality feel stiffer. ‘Forgive me, I do not understand.’
‘Ah, more of the royal house are arriving in a day or so for the start of the coronation festivities. His Majesty wished to arrive early, and some of the home court came with him.’
Meilyr’s already-delicate chest twinged.Moreroyals.