Page 16 of The Concubine King
“Hold yourself with dignity and pride,” the priest scolded.“You were chosen by gods, Ethyr.You represent their judgment.”
Clearly not great judgment, if they chose him out of everyone in the damn kingdom.Ethyr held his tongue and his face as they approached a set of open double doors flanked by guards; bigger doors than Ethyr had ever seen, made of polished wood with metal hinges.The guards bowed as they approached.Yorith did not acknowledge their existence as he stepped past.
They entered a colonnade that bordered a courtyard not as ostentatiously large as Ethyr would have thought, but it was as luxurious.A low table piled with food, some plates tiered to hold it all, was situated in the middle.Cushions were set around it, but most people were standing or sitting on the seats that were scattered between green foliage and vibrant blossoms.Hanging plants and lanterns that were works of art themselves filled the spaces between columns, so that even the air offered a view.
In the corner, musicians played a soft melody on a harp, lute, and flute, their delicate, ethereal notes almost lost beneath the low murmur of conversation.Lanterns lit the courtyard, washing everything in a soft warmth.When Ethyr glanced upward, the stars were barely visible past the light.He longed for a real view of them; the breathtaking blanket of glittering lights strewn across the sky, larger than any of the cities Ethyr had seen on his travels here.
When Yorith and Ethyr entered, all the boisterous conversation and laughter hushed as eyes turned to them.Ethyr hesitated but Yorith continued walking, undisturbed, so Ethyr hopped forward to keep up with him.
Gionan had not exaggerated.Every single person wore colors on their face.Long hair was braided and looped into elaborate styles, at the back of the head or on top of it or on the sides or all three.Ethyr had never seen anything more complicated than a braid pinned around the head like a crown.He couldn’t begin to fathom how these people had gotten their hair to remain in such designs.
“Your Divinity,” Yorith said with uncharacteristic courtesy, gesturing to a cushion situated at one end of the table.Everyone was still watching.
Ethyr ignored the squeeze that had taken hold of his chest and sat as elegantly as he could, keeping his back straight.
Yorith took his time getting to the other end of the table.When he was seated, everyone else came to take cushions as well, until the table was crowded with their grotesque masks of color.And all of them were turned to Ethyr.
“Tonight we welcome a new era under a new king,” Yorith said, his clear voice filling the air.He lifted an arm and everyone else did the same.From nowhere, attendants popped into view and placed a chalice into each outstretched hand.Ethyr looked up to see one being held towards him as well.He took it gingerly, bringing it to his lap before he realized everyone was still holding theirs aloft.He raised it again.
“We welcome Divine Ethyr, king of Hyancia,” Yorith continued.Ethyr’s heart dropped to his stomach.The chalices were tipped higher before everyone took a drink.Then they were handed back to the waiting attendants who disappeared into the colonnade once more.It seemed a terrible waste of the wine.
Eating began at once, and quiet chatter picked up again.Ethyr would have been relieved that attention was away from him were he not starkly aware that the murmured conversations were about him.
“I thought the gods had gone mad.”A man spoke over the table to Yorith, despite being closer to Ethyr.“I’ll admit it.Picking some uncultivated laborer from the end of nowhere, what sane person couldn’t doubt that?But he’s an unmatched beauty; I cannot fault the gods for their decision.”
Ethyr bit his teeth hard together to avoid glaring.All too familiar words, but given in a way Ethyr hadn’t experienced for years.After he’d grown old enough to help with the harvests, he’d been respected enough not to be talked about over his head.
“I’m right here,” he spoke up.The man turned to him in mild surprise.“You don’t have to speak about me like I’m not.”
Ethyr thought perhaps the faces around him were astonished, but it was hard to tell.Only Yorith’s bare face was readable in its disappointment and frustration.
“Of course, Your Divinity,” the man said with a bowed head.“I meant no offense.”
“Divine Ethyr,” Yorith said.Ethyr looked at him, expecting reprimand.He gestured to the man who had spoken.“This is Favosh, head of the merchant guild of Mahyria.”
Discomfort burned a hole through Ethyr’s heart.He awkwardly dipped his head at the man in acknowledgment.
“Your Divinity,” the woman beside him said.“Was your village really at the edge of the kingdom?”
She spoke with genuine, gentle curiosity, and it soothed him a little.“Yes,” he told her.“We were on the border of the Linwoods.”
A murmur spread around the table at that.
“Is it true that deformed monstrosities come out of there?”another asked.
Ethyr furrowed his brow.“No.Just birds and squirrels.”
“Does the forest truly swallow people up?”someone asked.
That was more like the stories Ethyr had been told his whole life.“I suppose,” he replied slowly.“I’ve heard that people from the village have disappeared there before.Not in my lifetime, though.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty winters.”
“And not one in twenty years?”
“Well, no one goes in there anymore.Not even to hunt.”
