Page 64 of The Concubine King
“I’m back,” he said, in case the man had not heard him enter.
“How fortunate for us you deign to return,” Yorith replied dryly.He faced him, and illuminated from behind he morphed from regal to supernatural.“We will have a feast in a few days, at the temple.It is time, I suppose, you became acquainted with the priests.”
“The priests?”Ethyr asked anxiously.The priests who hated his guts?
“Yes.”Yorith brushed past him on his way out.“You can thank Lamora.I expect you to be on your best behavior.”He closed the door behind him.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Gionan painted Ethyr’s face and spent nearly an hour musing over every article of clothing Ethyr owned before choosing what he should wear, all while Ethyr sat restlessly on the bed and was intermittently chastised not to touch his face.
“Has Edora found a fabric to match the embroidered one yet?”Ethyr asked.
“She has.She is making a few mock-ups first for different designs.That’s a good point, though.If that was ready it would be the perfect thing.Here.”He lifted a pair of pants and set it on the bed next to the tunic he chose.“This should be good enough.”
“Does it really matter that much?”
“Of course,” Gionan replied with his usual air of offense that he would be questioned.“You are the king, you must be presented in superiority to the other priests.But with the allowances for their clothing, that is quite difficult to do.”
“I see,” Ethyr sighed.He was certain the priests would love being reminded of his ‘superiority’.He got off the chair and dutifully dressed in the clothes Gionan had picked, ones he hadn’t worn often.A robin-egg blue tunic that had delicate, intricate lacing for sleeves, and white pants that may have looked plain if not for the fine silk they were made of.His waist was cinched with a band of maroon silk that had an ivory-carved flower attached to the front.Pristine white feathers of some unfortunate bird dangled from his ears and an ivory choker was tied around his neck, followed by the obligatory gold circlet nestled over his hair.
Gionan stepped back and looked him over.“I suppose it is satisfactory.You are due to meet the High Priest at the front of the palace.”
Gionan escorted him to where Yorith and Poyut waited.Yorith, at least, did not look displeased by his appearance.
“I am expecting grace and conduct befitting a king,” Yorith said, hands tucked into his sleeves.
“Yes sir,” Ethyr said as non-miserably as he could.
“Still, I expect you to treat the priests with respect.”He walked out of the palace even as he continued speaking, so Ethyr followed.“We have stricter protocols in the temple than in the palace.We recite worship before every meal.The highest ranked priest is usually the one to lead this, which ordinarily would be you, but given the circumstances, I will take the lead.”
Poyut helped Ethyr, with a bolstering smile, up into the carriage, followed by the priest.Then the door swung shut and Yorith latched it.
“As I never bothered to teach you the prayers,” he continued as the carriage strained forward, “you will simply have to remain silent.”Ethyr was glad to do so.
Like his first night, priests were waiting outside the temple for their arrival.Unlike that night, there were none of the younger priests in normal tunics, but only those priests closer to Ethyr in age and the older ones.Among the lines of priests were colorful combinations of elaborate fashion and expensive jewelry.The exceptions were the older priests in their plain robes, including Klara, standing in front of the crowd with a robe of deep blue and a simple silver clasp.
She bowed as they approached and the other priests obediently followed suit.Ethyr eyed her.He hadn’t known her well and hadn’t given much thought to her, if anything taking her as a welcome neutral party between him and the priests radiating hostility.But after she’d dragged him around and locked him in his room under Yorith’s orders, he couldn’t see her now as anything but an enemy.
Yorith gave no reaction or acknowledgment to the bowed priests, continuing past them for the door, so Ethyr did the same, though he paused inside the entryway when he realized Poyut was no longer beside him.
He turned, finding her still standing outside the doorway.
“You’re not coming?”he asked.
“No, Your Divinity, I will remain out here.”
The other priests had straightened and almost followed into the temple, but had to stop with Ethyr blocking the entrance.
“Your Divinity,” Yorith said tensely, likely reining in a much angrier tone.Ethyr cast one last despairing glance at Poyut before putting his head down and catching up to the High Priest.Without Poyut, it was as though he were stripped of his last defense, and now walked naked and vulnerable through the halls.He hadn’t expected to be so completely alone.
Yorith led the way through corridors that Ethyr vaguely recognized, but one disoriented trek through the temple didn’t familiarize him enough to know where they were going.Their procession ended in a large room with wide window-holes cut into the wall, looking out at the city and the waterfall.Three tables bordered the room, already filled with plates of food.
Yorith turned to face the priests as they filed in, framed by the backdrop of distant city roofs and a dusky sky.
His pointed look to Ethyr took a long moment to decipher.When he finally understood, he hurried to situate himself beside the High Priest, though by the old man’s closed eyes and noiseless sigh, he didn’t do it in an acceptable manner.
Facing the crowd of priests, their sea of eyes staring with every judgment but approval, was not made palatable by Yorith’s proximity.Ethyr forced himself not to fidget or chew his lip, but he couldn’t help averting his gaze, looking anywhere but at the priests looking back.His shoulders fought to remain straight under a newfound weight of misery.
