Ruins And Royalty

Dinner with the Windanes - Chp 11 Part 2

The Emperos harbour was hidden from sea view, shaped like a crescent moon. Its two tails formed a narrow gate wide enough for cargo ships, yet difficult to steer through. Each tail doubled as a watchtower, large enough to house barracks, weaponry, and even a blacksmith. Beyond the gateway loomed two colossal water-bearer statues, each tipping a vase that poured endless streams into the sea. The waterfalls met the ocean and stirred a veil of fog, shrouding the harbour until, at last, ships broke free of the mist. Then the palace revealed itself, aligned perfectly with the entrance, flanked by an open beach on the left and the harbour to the right.

From where I stood on the harbour, the water bearers looked far more striking than they had from the wall’s outlook, where I once stood with Saurora and Kalmin when the kingdom’s fleet first arrived, or even from the tower within the tail, where I had taken Prince Zander one evening.

Once the ship docked, men hurried to tend to it, and soon after, the radiant royals descended. They moved with unhurried grace, pausing to greet everyone along their way. A picture-perfect family yet strange to me only because I was unaccustomed to such open displays of love toward one another, and even toward the world around them.

“Greet them accordingly,” Queen Nymeria reminded, her tone more like a mother scolding children than a ruler commanding subjects. Silence settled thickly as the Windane Royals drew near. My gaze sifted through the scene until it landed on the Young Prince of Yarrow. Three months had passed since I last saw him, and though I felt a measure of ease knowing he was back in Emperos, Prince Zander’s expression suggested he did not share that sentiment.

“How wonderful it is to be back in Emperos!” King Osran boomed. His wife, Queen Evangeline, slipped past him without pause and came directly to me. Before I could react, her hands cradled my face.

“Such a handsome boy,” she said with a radiant smile.

I froze, eyes widening in both shock and discomfort. “Your Highness,” I managed, voice strained, hoping she’d release me. The urge to peel her hands away was strong, but under my parents’ watchful eyes, I forced myself to wait. At last she let go, stepping back with a fond look.

“You look just like your mother.”

“Now, now, my dear. We’ll have time enough with the young Nightingale at the Triclinium,” King Osran teased warmly.

From beside me came a stifled chuckle. I glanced at Kalmin’s smirk, irritation flaring. “Not funny,” I muttered. He, of course, found my unease with the Queen endlessly amusing. Why the Windanes showed such interest in me was a mystery. Except for Zander, who stood apart, eyes fixed on the sea, as though none of this concerned him. A pit formed in my stomach at his indifference.

“I hope the journey was well?” Queen Nymeria interjected suddenly, her shift in tone clearly meant to redirect the moment.

“Traveling between Yarrow and Emperos is always a delight,” Queen Evangeline answered brightly. Their joy was blinding, overwhelming even, and though my family remained composed, I could see the strain in their faces. My father alone matched their exuberance, returning their cheer with equal measure.

“Wonderful!”

The Kings and Queens of Emperos and Yarrow lingered in idle chatter far longer than necessary before we were finally escorted back to the palace. Prince Torin, once a friend but now little more than a stranger, walked ahead in easy conversation with Saurora, showing me no more interest than he would a passing servant. I quickened my pace and reached out toward the youngest Prince of Yarrow, but before my hand touched his arm, mine was seized by another.

“It is good to see you again, Prince Aaron,” came Princess Izara’s eager voice. She clung to my side, still gripping my arm. I gave a polite nod, prying myself free in silent refusal.

“I look forward to dinner,” she pressed on.

“As do I,” I lied evenly, though my eyes never left the back of Prince Zander’s head. I longed to speak to him, to bridge the distance between us.

“I am thrilled to hear that,” Izara beamed, remaining at my side until we parted ways when the Windanes retired to refresh themselves after their journey.

By dusk, bathed and redressed, I was escorted to the triclinium. The chamber glowed warmly with lantern light, its centerpiece a long concrete mensa filled with rippling water. The Windane royals reclined on low couches, draped in silks and heavy jewels, servants weaving between them with trays of food. In my hand, I carried a diamond-studded necklace, my mother’s gift for the youngest princess.

My grip tightened when my eyes found Prince Zander. He still would not look at me. Had I wounded him so deeply? The thought unsettled me more than I cared to admit. Swallowing the weight in my throat, I stepped forward with composure.

“Ah, Aaron, my boy!” King Osran exclaimed, rising with open arms. “I am glad you could join us.”

“I am honored,” I replied smoothly.

“Lovely, is he not?” Queen Evangeline cooed to her daughters, who giggled behind jeweled hands. My shoulders stiffened. The musicians that entered brought more noise than comfort, and heat crept up my neck when I caught Izara’s eyes fixed on the necklace I held.

“I have brought a gift for your youngest daughter, Princess Izara Windane,” I announced, bowing slightly. Delight lit the King and Queen’s faces, but it was not theirs I felt most keenly. Out of the corner of my eye, Prince Zander’s head snapped toward me, emerald gaze cutting sharp into my skin for the first time since their arrival. My palms dampened with sweat.

Izara leapt up, seizing both my hands. “For me? You shouldn’t have!” she exclaimed with theatrical delight. I stood mute, feeling foolish, wishing I could vanish into the fountain at our side.

Turning, she swept her hair up, baring her neck. Reluctantly, I fastened the necklace around her throat. Her fingers danced along the diamonds in rapture, but dread pressed heavy on me. I could still feel Zander’s gaze on me, relentless.

If I had been given the choice, I would have placed the gift on him instead. Perhaps then he would have stopped looking at me with such an icy gaze.

The King gestured toward the central chaise longue, and I obeyed with practiced composure. Reclining against a heap of cushions at their left, I watched as servants glided in and out, bearing trays of delicacies from the kitchens. Each platter was set afloat upon the mensa’s water, drifting gently within reach. Beyond, a marble fountain shimmered, framed by a manicured landscape that looked painted rather than real.

For a fleeting moment, the soft strum of a lyre calmed me, its notes threading through the air like silver. Yet the unease coiled in my chest would not relent.

“Emperos certainly has mastered the art of dining,” Princess Panthea declared, the eldest, as she plucked a fig from a drifting fruit platter. It was laden with treasures. Citron, azarole, plums, mulberries, and countless other rare imports.

“Indeed,” her sister, Princess Belladona, murmured in agreement.

I found myself seated with Princess Izara pressing close at my left, while to my right lounged the King and Queen of Yarrow. Beyond Izara, her sisters reclined in their order of birth, with Prince Zander claiming the furthest place. I longed to be nearer to him, the distance between us heavier than any wall of stone.

“I could see myself living in Emperos,” Izara exclaimed, her wide eyes drinking in every detail of the room. Then, with deliberate sweetness, she turned to me. “And I must thank you again for such a gift. Diamonds are my favorite, you know.” Her gaze glistened as she tucked a golden strand of hair neatly behind her ear, as though to frame the jewels now resting on her throat.

“My parents suggested I give you this particular necklace. It is to them you should give thanks,” I said flatly, careful to strip my words of any suggestion that might mislead her. The last thing I wanted was for the Princess to imagine I sought her company.

“Oh.” Her sigh carried disappointment, and her gaze fell to the floor as she leaned toward her sisters.

“You should have lied…” came a voice at my side, light with amusement.

“Excuse me?” I turned, puzzled, to find Prince Torin watching me.

“It would have sounded far better had you let her believe the gift was your idea,” he said with a faint frown, as though bewildered by my lack of charm. Perhaps he thought me inept with women. The truth was simpler: I preferred blunt honesty to hollow pleasantries.

“I see no need to lie,” I replied, unbothered.

“As cold as ever,” Torin muttered with a snicker, downing another gulp of wine.

“So I have been told,” I returned evenly, refusing to match his tone. Still, there was something unsettled between us. Torin was rarely seen at court, and I had misjudged what little bond we still shared. Whatever friendship we once had in youth had worn thin long ago.

“I suggest you bring her white roses next,” he said suddenly, smirking. “She adores them.”

“She has already received a gift from me. Why would she need another?” I asked, my irritation sharpening.

“To woo her, of course…” His grin was insufferable, the insinuation plain.

“I have no desire to woo your sister. And if that is the reason I was summoned here tonight, then I will take my leave.” My patience frayed. Though my parents valued this dinner for appearances, I would abandon it without hesitation. Izara’s relentless advances, coupled with her family’s peculiar conduct, had grown intolerable.

“Oh… no, please.” Torin’s tone shifted, startled, almost embarrassed. “I had no idea you weren’t interested. I assumed you were-”

“Why assume such a thing? I have never once given any indication of interest.” The words escaped sharp and clipped.

“My apologies, Aaron. I misread the situation,” Torin said at last, clearing his throat, shame flickering across his face.

I turned away, drawing a steadying breath as I reached for a handful of olives. Frustration simmered, but I forced myself into composure. Obedience to my parents demanded restraint.

The awkward exchange passed unnoticed by the others, for soon King Osran and Queen Evangeline turned their attentions on me, dragging me into small talk that felt endless. Izara joined in too, brushing aside my earlier dismissal as though it had never been spoken.

All the while, my gaze strayed to Prince Zander, who remained quiet, conversing only with Panthea on occasion.

The hours slipped by in a haze of wine and laughter. Jug after jug was emptied until the royals of Windane glowed crimson-cheeked beneath the summer heat. Servants fanned the King and Queen with broad palm leaves, another fed them grapes, while their voices rose louder, laughter rolling in waves. To me, still sober, it was nothing but a cacophony.

“Have you been training hard, Prince Aaron?” Princess Izara asked suddenly, sliding closer until her perfume clouded the air around me. Her fingers traced along the definition of my arm, pausing when they reached an old scar.

“You should rub hyssop oil into these,” she murmured, leaning in so close her breath brushed my skin. “I could do it for you...”

Before I could respond, a crash interrupted her. The youngest prince had spilled a vial of wine, crimson flooding the marble floor. No one seemed to notice over the blare of instruments and laughter, but my eyes caught Prince Zander’s expression. They were sorrowful and tight with anger. His sister Panthea gave a subtle flick of her wrist, summoning a servant, yet Zander was already on his knees, blotting at the mess himself. The maid rushed forward, whispering for him to stop lest he stain his pearl-white tunic, but he ignored her.

I couldn’t look away. Every muscle in me strained to rise, to cross the space, to help him.

“Shall we dance, my beloved?” King Osran suddenly boomed, springing to his feet and pulling the queen into his arms.

“I am all yours,” Queen Evangeline answered with a girlish laugh, utterly smitten by her husband. The two began twirling, hand in hand, to the feverish strings of the musicians.

Their joy only made Izara’s presence more suffocating. Her stare burned into me. Insistent and hungry. Then she tugged at my arm.

“Are you not going to ask me?” she teased, her voice slurred with wine, her smile far too expectant.

I pulled free, jaw tight. Her touch was relentless, her nearness intolerable. I was seconds away from storming out when I saw Zander slipping quietly from the hall, toward the exit.

I stood at once. Izara blinked at me in disbelief. I knew the role expected of me, endure the princess’s advances, charm the Windane royals, keep my parents’ honor intact until the night was done. But alas, I could not.

“I am sorry, Princess,” I said bluntly, meeting her gaze. “I will not dance with you. Not tonight or ever.”

Her eyes flared, but I did not linger. I turned, lifted my head high, and followed the path Zander had taken. Trouble would surely come from this, yet my decision was already carved into stone. I would no longer play their game.