The visiting nobles lost themselves to revelry during the funeral of her parents’ death.
In the Quartz Courtyard, torches blazed next to pillars of marble and stone. Fountains sprayed dancing streams of pure water. The droplets caught the red hues of the torchlight and lit up like little sparks. Peacocks roamed the soft green grass, shedding feathers of purple and blue. A woman wearing nothing but pearls walked around and refilled their goblets with vino and galley juice, her flesh rimmed by moonlight. The liquid she served did not matter, so long as it contained safra.
In the distance, a choir sang a funeral hymn.
“Princess, would you like more vino?”
Fayr looked up at her favorite servant, Jeevu. He was something of a silly fellow, always singing songs or whistling tunes. He had a whimsical nature which seemed to run deeper in him than just the safra, or at least Fayr liked to think so. He was slender and pretty, very effeminate, and his romances tended to be with men rather than women. For some reason this made Fayr feel very comfortable around him, like she could enjoy his beautiful presence for pure aesthetic purposes without feeling threatened by it. Fayr thanked her fortune every day that he had not been killed during the assassin’s attack.
“No, thank you, Jeevu,” said Princess Fayr. She patted the cushion next to her. “But I would greatly appreciate your company.”
“Well certainly.” Jeevu sank down into the feathery pillow beside his princess. His warm body leaned against Fayr’s. The servant smelled of cocoa and spices; no doubt he had helped in the preparation of tonight’s meal. He lay his golden hair against Fayr’s shoulder and she reached up to stroke it. “So tell me, Jeevu. What are all these nobles talking about?”
“Oh, you know how they are, my lady.” He giggled whole-heartedly. “Talking about how wonderful life is. About the beautiful sky and the dazzling stars. About the delicious food provided by my Majesty.”
“Truly? That’s all they talk about? How great everything is?”
“Well, I probably shouldn’t say, but I heard a few knights talk about how they’d love to marry you. And some of them were quite handsome.” His pink lips curled with a mischievous smile.
Her fingers tangled in Jeevu’s locks. She was glad he could not see her expression, pinched with restraint. “Do any of them worry about the safety of Dearen, now that King Joyhan is dead?”
“Worry? Safety?” His voice chimed with laughter. “But of course not! The Haze continues to protect Dearen. We still have you and Prince Kyne to reign over us. And life goes on, beautiful and wondrous.”
Her fingers pulled too tightly at his hair. He flinched a little.
“Are you well, Princess?”
“Of course, Jeevu. It’s just that … sometimes … I miss my mother and father.”
“Miss … ?” His soft eyes hazed for a moment, not understanding.
She sighed and tried to think of a different way to phrase it. “I wish I’d had time to … learn more from them.”
“You should pick a man to marry, Princess. Then we’ll have a king again.”
“Perhaps.” She glanced uncomfortably around the courtyard. Who on earth could she ever stand to marry? She did not even want to think about it. “Jeevu, play something on your harp for me, won’t you?”
“Certainly, Princess.”
His warm presence withdrew as he collected his little harp. Then he angled it against his chin and strummed his fingers over the strings.
As a melody poured out of the instrument, Fayr continued to study the men in her courtyard. Nobles, perhaps, but hardly any different from all the other people in Dearen: fat, lazy, and … happy. Even tonight, the three-month anniversary of the King and Queen’s death, no one remembered the terror of that night. No one thought twice about the fact that only two members of the Violenese bloodline remained. No one understood that the Violenese needed to rule, for they alone could produce safra, and they alone would not succumb to effects.
“Jeevu,” she said, “can you make the song minor?”
His fingers paused uncertainly. “You mean change the chords, Majesty?”
“Yes. If you can. I wish to hear the song in a minor key.”
“If it pleases you.”
Slowly he began to strum again. The strings trembled and sent a new sensation through Fayr’s body. The song sounded so much sweeter now. It resonated with her innermost thoughts. The sad melody flowed over the courtyard and added a new perspective to the jovial mood around her. It confirmed what she already sensed, deep down: that these people were happy, even though they shouldn’t be.
“It’s beautiful, Jeevu,” she whispered.
He kept on playing resolutely. “I hear no difference. But I’m glad you like it.”
Fascinated, the princess returned her attention to her visitors, wondering if any of them heard what she did.
Near one of the fountains, a man and a woman sat kissing one another. Their lips still glittered with safra as their mouths moved against one another’s. The man pushed the woman up against a quartz column as his lust got the better of him. The woman slid her thigh between the legs of his trousers. The man responded by slipping his hand under the collar of her gown.
A shock went through Fayr’s body as she remembered the Wolven crouching over her, his hand wrapping around her breast. Warmth spread up her legs and she shifted on her feathery pillow, hoping to dispel it. “Stop playing, Jeevu!”
He complied, a perplexed expression hovering over his smile.
Fayr struggled to regain her breath, which was surprisingly fast. She tried to remember what she and Jeevu had been talking about. “I, uh … I wonder if I should marry a man from another one of the Three Nations.”
Jeevu put away his harp. “You mean Vikand or Yamair? But they are inferior to us!”
Fayr had never heard someone say it so blatantly. “What makes you say so, Jeevu? They are larger than us. They have more natural resources, more people ...”
“But they don’t have safra!”
“Safra ...” Fayr’s stomach turned suddenly within her. “Jeevu. You mentioned that the stars are dazzling tonight.”
“Yes, Princess.”
“Isn’t that strange? Usually they are much duller. Usually the Haze is too thick for us to see them well.”
“Yes, I suppose it is unusual.” He settled against her once more, angling his face next to hers as they both looked up. “It is a clear night just for you, Princess!”
Fayr hoped Jeevu could not feel the pounding of her heart through her evening gown. “Yes,” she said breathlessly. “The Haze is thinning.”