-Coffee-
Sadira
Later that evening
Raul regarded Akeem with great incredulity. “The heir to the capitol arriving so late? What are we guests to assume when you can’t be bothered to be punctual like the rest of us?”
The rest of the table waited, largely resentful, for a response.
Akeem dropped onto a cushion as if he were sitting down to a meal with close friends. “You could be grateful I made an appearance at all. I think we must infer the Crown Prince of Mardesal has remained overseas again this year.”
Giuliana sat perfectly still. “He is most frail, and only twelve years of age. Would you have me bring my one remaining child on a voyage across such rough seas?”
Akeem stared back at her with a challenging look. “I’m sure his journey wouldn’t be too hazardous,” he said as Samar lowered onto a cushion gracefully across the table. “Your Mardesalian ships seem to have an easier time crossing than ours, at least these days.”
Alarm tightened in Sadira’s throat as one of the noblemen from Mardesal scoffed in anger. She glanced about for something she might use to inspire a distraction, anything that would weaken the hostility rising around the table.
Before she had the chance, the nobleman who had scoffed slapped his knife onto the silver dish before him. The hall rang with noise.
“I take exception to this treatment,” he said, rising. “Had I known even our queen would meet with such insult from our hosts, I’d have taken this meal in my tent.”
A sliver of amusement danced in Raul’s eyes as he watched the nobleman storm from the hall in spite of several pleas for him to stay.
Samar’s gaze traveled over the other guests as if taking note of who all remained in attendance.
It seemed impossible this level of contention pervaded every state gathering. Indeed, a few faces among the Dalachite envoy tensed with growing apprehension.
In any conflict involving Mardesal, it was understood by all parties that military aid from Dalach would arrive swiftly whenever requested. No longer a sovereign nation on their own, their forces stood at the Mardesalian monarch’s beck and call, a guard dog in everything but name.
Privately, Sadira had heard Samar musing that indignity and stress on the populace might one day lead Dalachite leaders to break their longstanding ties to Mardesal, but she couldn’t imagine that actually happening. Dalach’s borders had narrowed over time to a long but largely barren strip of land, heavily reliant on imports to keep its people fed. Should they rebel against their only friendly neighbor, they’d be left surrounded by those waiting to seize every resource that remained.
Sadira’s mother spoke to Akeem directly. The look on her face spoke of a wish that he had remained absent. “Have you anything to say in apology?”
In spite of all her insinuations, she had yet to make anything the fault of anyone but pirates. Perhaps Akeem had gone too far, already.
Ambassador Lucas stared at his plate with a sober fold to his features.
As soon as Akeem opened his mouth, Sadira retreated from her cushion and bowed her head towards Giuliana. “I apologize on behalf of my brother,” she said, feeling every eye in the room fall upon her back. She pulled her voice from the pit in which it so desperately wished to take shelter. “He is parched from travel and flagging of mind.”
The quiet in the hall, for one precious moment, made it seem as though everyone within had evaporated. Akeem’s voice shattered the illusion, but his words were none Sadira had expected to hear.
“My young sister, like my own mouth, rushes ahead of me,” he said, his tone as easy as when he had first arrived. “I was about to offer my deep apology. You all remember I’m ever free in teasing those dear to me. It must be all these familiar faces putting me so at ease.”
When Sadira lifted her head, the mood around the table had not lightened. The slight easing of Ambassador Lucas’ brow told her she had played as well as she could have.
Giuliana’s piercing glare held fast to Akeem as she said, “Your sister’s words were more than enough.”
-
Yanna greeted Sadira with a knowing look when she returned on aching feet to their bedroom.
“How did you fare?” asked Yanna, leaning the letter in her hands close to her face so nothing of its contents was visible.
“Don’t ask as if you didn’t bear witness. I don’t mean to humiliate myself any further by reliving it.” Sadira fussed with the knot in her sash until the weight of its countless beads fell from her middle. Rigid in spirit, she folded it into halves and laid it carefully over the tall looking glass.
Relief inched nearer as her reflection disappeared behind the clattering beads.