“It’s smaller,” Maris provided. She turned to Victoria and Prudence. “In Solspire, Her Highness had an entire floor of the palace for her, all of us ladies, and the rest of her staff. There were days we walked leagues without ever leaving Her Highness’s apartments.” Maris glanced around the crowded dining space. “This has been an adjustment. I hardly feel able to breathe, surrounded by all this stone.”
Lea and Cecelia nodded their agreement, while Lady Sabine—the oldest woman in attendance—simply lifted an eyebrow over the rim of her wineglass. “Honor’s Keep has a stately quality to it, I think. The rulers of Caberwill have lived here for a hundred generations. Solspire is so new, by comparison.”
“That’s true,” Lady Lea allowed. “But I still like it better.”
Hanne quietly cleared her throat. “Though the differences between Solspire and Honor’s Keep are vast, it’s hardly fair to compare the two. Solspire was built for my family, when my ancestors took power after the Aska line failed.” Was killed, she meant, but she preferred everyone to view their deaths as their failure to hold the throne. She addressed Victoria and Prudence now. “The old palace was dismantled and Solspire was constructed in its place, to celebrate the Fortuin family and our rise to the throne. Every generation has added something to it, and its splendor is unrivaled. Honor’s Keep, however, represents stability, a continuity between dynasties. It was built to be defensible, and so it is.”
Across the table, Victoria and Prudence both softened—just enough to let her know that her words had worked.
“But we’re getting off topic,” Hanne went on. “I want to know about life here. Festivals, banquets, formal balls—how many do you typically attend each week, and whose parties should we be sure to never ignore?”
Prudence and Victoria glanced at each other, looking uncomfortable as the second course was served: roasted duck and a rainbow of vegetables, all drizzled with a light sauce. Silverware and wineglasses were exchanged, and then the servants swept away, off to ready the third course.
“Well?” Hanne leaned forward. “Don’t keep me in anticipation. I brought one hundred dresses from Embria—enough for a season, perhaps? I only hope they won’t be out of fashion here.”
“I’m afraid we don’t have events quite so often,” Prudence said softly. “Caberwilline monarchs have long viewed them as an expendable extravagance.”
Hanne was well aware that there were few balls and banquets in Caberwill, of course. Everyone knew it. The number of events planned ahead of the wedding had been a difficult concession for Rune (and his parents) to make. “Ah,” she said softly, lowering her eyes a fraction. “I suppose Caberwillines believe social gatherings to be frivolous, a waste of time and funds.”
Neither Victoria nor Prudence said anything.
“In Caberwill, I suppose most of the ruling is done through the Crown Council or petitions to the king directly.” Hanne cut and speared a slice of duck from her plate. “In Embria, ballrooms are where the kingdom’s course is decided. We form alliances during a dance, raise or lower taxes over dessert, and hold trials in shadowed corners. Once, I witnessed an entire trade war between two rival families begin and end on a three-day party aboard the Fortuin Jewel—my mother’s floating palace. I know it must seem a strange way of doing things, but we Embrians prefer to mitigate the unpleasantness of ruling.
“I see.” Prudence took a bite of her meal, then gasped, her eyes widening. She washed it down with a sip of wine. “It’s so spicy.”
Hanne smiled around another bite of her own as Lea told the Caberwilline women about Embrian cuisine and the plethora of flavors enjoyed on the western side of the continent.
Then, the conversation turned toward the alliance—and Rune summoning the Nightrender.
“I thought it was incredibly brave.” Lea pressed a hand to her chest and sighed. “He must feel so strongly for you, Your Highness, that he was willing to risk a second Red Dawn.”
The thought soured Hanne’s stomach, but she maintained her pleasant expression. “He possesses great courage,” she agreed. “I know exactly how important this alliance is to my soon-to-be husband, because it is equally important to me. Had he been the one imprisoned in a malsite, I would have done everything in my power to free him.”
“How brave,” Maris said.
“Romantic,” Lea agreed.
“It’s all no less than what the alliance deserves,” Cecelia finished.
“I found Prince Rune’s defense of his actions quite compelling.” Prudence took a tiny bite of her duck, her mouth pinching as she lifted her wineglass and gulped. “The way he stood up to his parents in front of everyone—it was unlike him. I’ve never seen him dissent quite so passionately before.”
Hanne tilted his head. “How does he typically disagree with his parents?”
Prudence gave a tight smile. “Often, he will simply protest and urge them to listen to the people more, and his parents remind him that there are nuances to ruling that he cannot yet understand. He gives the appearance of ceding to them, but I suspect he holds it all against them. All of that is in private, of course.”
“Ah, but you have found out.” Hanne’s gaze flickered to Lady Sabine, who was also eyeing Prudence with interest.
“I have my ways,” Prudence allowed. “And, as you have certainly noticed by now, His Highness is not known for being subtle.”
That was true. Still, Prudence, with her way, could prove useful. Sabine, who was still giving the young woman an appraising look, seemed to agree.
“Oh yes. Subtlety is not one of his strengths,” Victoria said. “I assume we’ve all heard about his fight with the Nightrender in the middle ward, the day after he and she went to the malsite?”
Hanne lifted an eyebrow. “They fought?”
“Well, they argued.” Lea pressed her napkin to the corners of her mouth. “His Highness sided with his father, while the Nightrender insisted the Highcrowns provide her with an army of Dawnbreakers to take into the Malice.”
“He accused her of forgetting things,” Prudence added. “He said she’d forgotten about the Red Dawn. And then she flew off, angry as could be.”
“She flew right by that window.” Nadine nodded toward the parlor. “I could have reached out and plucked a feather.”
“More likely you would have lost a finger,” Cecelia said. “I heard those feathers are sharp. They certainly looked it, didn’t they? When we saw her in the throne room.”
Maris gave a serious nod. “I would have sewn your finger back on, Nadine, if you had lost it to the Nightrender.”