It’s the same library-study we busted into before. Like yesterday, there are chairs by the fireplace, and the queen sits in one while two ladies sit nearby, sewing. Like yesterday, she wears another lavender dress, but this one is practically crusted with embroidery, the sleeves long and dangling. She has her infant son in her lap, playing with him, and looks over at us when we enter.
“Don’t let me interrupt,” I say with an awkward smile, and look for somewhere to sit.
“You are an honored guest,” Queen Halla says, getting to her feet heavily. One of the ladies gets to her feet and reaches for the child, but Halla shakes her head. She holds her baby close as she approaches me. “Did you sleep comfortably?”
I flush, because I’m pretty sure Aron and I were loud last night. Did they hear that? “It was great, thank you.”
She turns to one of the maids. “Caitria, tell the kitchens we need a very large tray of food and more wine. Lord Aron’s anchor will be hungry.”
The girl curtsies, her head bowed, and then leaves the room, hands clasped.
“Please,” the queen says, gesturing at her quarters. “Make yourself comfortable.”
I smile at her and her baby. The little one has darker skin than Halla does, and his hair is jet black and shaved on one side of his head in the cyclops tradition. He sucks his thumb as he looks over at me, and for a moment, his expression is purely that of his father. “Cute kid.”
Her eyes flash with pleasure as she gazes at her son. “His name is Alistair, after my husband’s father. If our second child is another boy, we will name him after my father.” There’s a look of pride on her face, and it’s clear she loves her family. She looks over at me. “And you? We are of an age. Do you have children?”
“Me? Oh, god, no. I can barely muster the energy to run around after Aron.” Her eyes widen in surprise at my words, and I hesitate. “Did Aron tell you that I’m not…local?”
“I knew from your accent,” she admits. “You are from across the seas?”
“A bit farther out than that.” I wince. How do I explain that I’m from Earth without weirding her out? “Like, way, way out.”
Halla inclines her head. “Wherever you are from, I’m thankful that you and Aron came here. My home is your home.”
I look around the room as a maid opens the door—and she’s accompanied by Markos as she enters. As I watch, the girl sets the tray down and then takes a bite out of each of the foods. I’m startled, but I realize she’s tasting everything. There are two jugs of wine, and she pours herself a cup from each, tastes them, curtsies and leaves.
The baby gets fussy, so the queen moves back to her chair and hands him a ball, murmuring at him as her ladies smile and try not to look too closely at me. I guess I don’t match what they think Aron’s companion should be. Their hair is worn in intricate, looping braids that crisscross over their heads and are decorated with bits of jewelry. Mine’s loose and finger-combed. Their dresses are corseted and it looks like they’re wearing a dress over another dress. I glance down and realize that the dark red dress I put on today that belts loosely at the waist is just the under-dress. I didn’t realize it was a two piece. Whoops. At least I remembered shoes.
There’s a large window in the room, and I gravitate toward it. From here, I can see the battlefield in the distance, the clash of men, and the sea of banners that move as if alive. A distant horn sounds, and I glance back at the queen. “How long have the Adassians been camped at your doorstep?”
“Ever since the Anticipation,” she admits, settling her son on a thick rug at one of the women’s feet and then moving to my side. “We think Lord Aron arrived from the Aether into Adassia directly, and that is why he chose them. For a time, my husband was quite upset. He and his people are very devoted to the Lord of Storms.” She studies me. “Where are the two of you from?”
“He showed up in Aventine,” I tell her. “I was a slave there. Someone caught me wandering where I shouldn’t and decided I should be property. Then, I was taken to Aron’s temple to