Page 42 of The Exile's Curse

The words rolled on and over them, and the whisper of the sejerin's magic underneath them remained steady rather than flaring as it would if the woman was drawing on extra power.

The inability to understand the words scratched at her brain. Parts of them sounded almost Andalyssian, but the sounds together made no sense. The Andalyssians were watching with expressions she judged to be more polite than concerned, which was reassuring, but she would have given her arm for a proper translation.

Eventually the sejerin stopped speaking and struck the stone floor three times again with her staff before turning to bow to the king.

"Thank you, Sejerin Silya," Mikvel said. Chloe noted the name and added it to the list in her head. Doubtful she'd have any trouble remembering this one after such a dramatic introduction.

Clearly Sejerin Silya was important, so it seemed likely they would cross paths again. Whether or not that was a good thing remained to be seen.

She couldn't quite shake her initial impression. She'd grown more wary of people since Charl died, reluctant to fall for dazzle or charm. In Anglion, she’d honed her instincts for those who might be ill-intentioned. Running a business alone as a woman had made her a target for certain kinds of opportunistic fraudsters or thieves who were bold enough—or stupid enough—to ignore the fact that she was Illvyan. Or maybe they had just assumed she'd be prevented from using her powers by fear of the temple.

They'd been right about that part, but none of them had ever succeeded in stealing more than a few silver coins’ worth of supplies. And the men looking to con a woman out of her money always tried to deploy the kind of bright and bountiful charm that Charl had naturally. Given most of them were nowhere near as handsome as Charl had been, and she had no longer been a love-struck girl, she remained unmoved by their efforts.

Chloe doubted that Sejerin Silya would try to charm anybody, but still, until she found reasons to either confirm or allay her instincts, she would be careful.

"What do you think that was all about?" Giane whispered through the side of her mouth, not looking at Chloe as Sejerin Silya walked back toward the door she'd entered from.

"Well, none of us has turned into a frog, so I'm going to guess some sort of welcome ritual."

Giane snorted softly. "Maybe it's delayed frogs."

"Shhh," Chloe said, willing her mouth not to smile. "Pay attention." The king was rising from his throne now, standing for a moment while regarding the court with an expression that seemed almost a challenge.

But then he clapped his hands together once, a gesture that made him look more like the young man he was. "And now," he said, finally smiling, "dinner."

The dining hall was, thankfully, built on a more intimate scale than the King’s Hearth. Though intimate was always relative when it came to palaces. It still seated several hundred people, but the walls were plastered and painted and draped in tapestries rather than being bare rock, giving it a human touch. The tables, draped in white and set with gold-rimmed china, silvered goblets, candles and tiny white flowers, looked welcoming.

The king’s table was at the front of the room, raised on a small platform. Colonel Brodier, Lucien, and Captain Theisse were seated at a table in the first row facing it. The rest of the Illvyans were scattered across several tables in the third and fourth rows. Not insulting but emphasizing that they were less important. At least they had the tables to themselves and wouldn’t have to make polite dinner conversation in Andalyssian just yet. Honore and Lucien and Captain Theisse were less fortunate. They were seated with Andalyssians in a bewildering array of colored robes. She didn't think any of the men were Ashmeisters, but they must still all be senior members of the court.

Lucien seemed at ease, speaking to the man beside him. She made herself turn her attention elsewhere. She wasn't going to spend the evening staring at Lucien. Not when there were far more interesting people in the room.

King Mikvel was seated beside a young woman dressed in silver trimmed with white and pale blue. From the quietly happy looks they exchanged as they waited for the servants to fill their glasses with wine, Chloe gathered this was Lady Katiya, his fiancée. Either that or he had no interest in hiding the fact that he was in love with somebody else and only marrying for political reasons.

But Andalyssians had conservative attitudes to marriage vows and fidelity. Their women, like Anglions, were supposed to remain virgins until they wed. Loyalty was an important trait, which made sense when the king had to work with the Ashmeisters. Lady Katiya brought with her House Uleniska, one of the strongest of the sixteen houses and it seemed unlikely he'd offer insult to her at so public an occasion. So no, the pretty blonde whose pale green eyes were fixed on Mikvel had to be the queen-to-be.

Chloe had less idea who the others seated with them were. Relatives of the king and his fiancée most likely. Roland sat at the far-left end of the table and another man of similar age at the right.

There was no sign of the sejerin or anyone else wearing red robes, which was a relief.

The seers were, most likely, less formidable to anyone familiar with them, but they supposedly held the power of foretelling, and that was something Chloe had never been hugely comfortable with. An aspect of water magic she’d never shown much talent for at the Academe, and she had little desire to know what lay in her future.

Life could be difficult enough without spending your time braced for something you had been told might come to pass.

Besides, seeing the future was a vague art at best. There had been few water mages truly strong in that talent over the years. They were rarer than Truth Seekers, even, and had, according to the Academe's histories, tended to be somewhat loosely connected to sanity.

Knowing the future, or perhaps seeing too many options to be able to see clearly at all, was a burden that didn't rest easily. There were no such water mages in the Illvyan court currently. But there were always water mages who dabbled with scrying and foretelling with some success, and others of smaller powers who made a living bilking people who wanted to believe out of their hard-earned money with vague predictions and insights that were, on the whole, not. She'd crossed paths with a few in her younger days, when it had been fashionable to ask frivolous questions about love and such.

She hadn't always enjoyed the experience, and seeing a seer was unexpectedly disconcerting.

As a distraction, she watched Katiya sip deep red wine and talk quietly with the king until her own glass was filled and the Wardmeister stood to make a toast. After that, the room broke into conversation, and she turned her attention to the meal, suddenly starving.

Dinner didn't last for hours as court meals sometimes could. All too soon, the servants were removing the dessert plates, and members of the court began to leave. Colonel Brodier and Lucien didn't move from their table, so Chloe and the others stayed where they were. The room was halfway empty when Honore beckoned to Chloe.

She pushed back her chair and went to see what the colonel wanted. There wasn't room to stand by Honore's side thanks to a group of courtiers gathered around the next table over, so she was forced to stand next to Lucien, muttering, "Excuse me, Major," as her uniform skirt brushed his shoulder.

"No apology needed, Lieutenant," he said softly.

She didn't look down. Didn't want to see what was lurking in those green eyes.

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