He offered her a mouthful from his fork. It was highly spiced and rather tough. No, she still could not guess.
"Eagle comb!" he smiled. "Here, we shall share it with you." He dumped all of it on her plate.
"Doesn't it hurt the eagle?" she asked, feeling sick.
"Oh, they're useless for anything afterward," the king said. "Usually go mad. That's why it is so rare."
She set to work on the horrible stuff.
"Talking of eagles," the king said, "our cousin of Foan, you breed silvers, we understand."
Her father said modestly that he had some silvers.
"Our father was a great fancier," Jarkadon said, leaning back. Having given most of his dish to Elosa, he had plenty of time to speak, and she had to gobble so as not to keep him waiting. "We could never see the point in breeding birds--I mean, the damned birds get all the fun, don't they?"
With much laughter the company agreed.
"The royal breeding aeries," the king said. "You know them?"
The duke said that he had not had the pleasure of visiting those.
"They are not far off. Our father never flew in his later years, so they are an easy horse ride; a few minutes by bird. Vast! Huge! They are bleeding the exchequer dry! There must be some economies we could make there, mmm?"
The subject was tossed around, and everyone agreed that economies could be found.
"Foan!" Obviously the king had had a Good Idea. "You look into it for us. Go over there and poke around. See what can be cut. I mean improved. Give us your comments and suggestions. You're a knowledgeable bird breeder."
Her father's face was quite expressionless. "I shall be honored to do so for Your Majesty."
"Good," the king said with a smile. "Now?"
The duke bowed to the king and to Elosa, then turned and walked away.
"Eat up, my darling," Jarkadon said. "It's time for dessert."
My darling?Elosa started gulping even faster.
She was being tested! The unfair rush from eagle to royal table, the crude heaping of her plate, the dismissal of her father--they were tests of her nerve. To be queen she must have poise and grace, so Jarkadon was testing to see if she could be rattled. Obviously she had impressed him physically--the gleam in his eyes said that. Now she must impress him with her personality. When she was queen, she would sit by him at table every day.
She decided to risk a joke and show him. Her father was just going out the door.
"I thought I was the only one who could order him around like that, sire," she said.
The sapphire eyes lit up with amusement. "It is nice to be king," he said.
And nice to be queen, too?
"I am sure Your Majesty does it very well."
He switched his gaze to the onlookers. "Idodo it well!" he said. "I'm irresistible!"
The company laughed loudly once more. She wasn't sure she understood that one, but she laughed too.
"How old are you?" he asked.
She gagged, then swallowed. "I am exactly two hundred days younger than Your Majesty."
"Terrible!" the king cried. "Old age is upon you!"
There was more laughter.
"But then, you have a birthday coming in a few days?" he said. "Your seventh, too! We must find a suitable gift for the occasion."
Elosa mumbled with her mouth full.
"Meanwhile," Jarkadon said, leaning toward her, "here is a small advance on your birthday gift." He held up a brooch for her to see--two eagles, rubies set in gold. It was large and beautiful and obviously worth a fortune.
She choked down the last horrible lump of comb and made appropriate thanking sounds. She knew that the rings he wore were there to be used as gratuities, but the brooch was worth many rings and was a woman's ornament. He must carry pockets full of things like that around also.
"Allow me," he said. "A little premature, perhaps, but we can correct that...Oh! I am sorry, did I prick you? That was careless. Here, let me try again." This time he slipped fingers inside the front of her dress to make sure that the pin did not prick her, touching her nipple as he did so.
She thanked him again. He seemed amused. She sensed something odd, looked across at the guests, and saw glances being exchanged. There was something more to that little episode than the brooch itself. Another honor?
The meal ended, and the king withdrew. Elosa found herself in yet another luxurious courtyard with him and three men of about his age and half a dozen girls, all of them younger than she. Some looked hardly older than four kilos, yet all were dressed like grand ladies. She noticed that they all wore two-eagle brooches identical to the one she had been given. So those were obviously a sign of royal friendship and probably a great honor, especially when he had just met her. She must ask Feysa as soon as possible. Feysa did not have one.
There was King Shadow, too, of course, in matching gold and mauve and a black baldric. He was a surly-looking young man with an irritating habit of sniffing.
The king's attention was still for her alone. "Now, what trifle can we find to amuse you, my dear Elosa," he said, "while we wait for the rabble to eat? Cockfighting? Do you have cockfighting at Ninar Foan?"
They didn't, and the king conceded that it was technically illegal--but what was the use of being king if you had to obey all the silly rules like everyone else? So they spent an hour watching the bloody business of cockfighting. A couple of the girls seemed to be nauseated by it, but Elosa joined in the cheering and was adamantly not rattled at all. The king was an avid spectator.
Then they rejoined the rest of the party to view the masque. Elosa knew that she should be exhausted, but she was soaring, buoyed up by the excitement as though she were riding an invisible eagle. She was making a good impression--that was certain. He could not keep his eyes off her.
The masque enthralled her. She had never seen professional acting and singing; she gloried in the music and the costumes and the acting. The king sat her beside him in the front row, with the rest of the dinner guests around and behind, and the artists were right at her toes--a very intimate command performance. The king's hand settled on her arm, and she thrilled at his touch.
He began to stroke her skin with his fingertips.
A boy soprano was singing a glorious aria, high as the Rose Mountains.
"You don't get much of this stuff at Ninar Foan, I suppose?" the king asked loudly.
The boy's voice cracked on a note, and the musicians missed a beat.
He was trying to rattle her again. To whisper back would be a criticism.
"No, nothing more exciting there than bird breeding, Majesty," she replied in the same tone, and he bellowed with laughter.
He was stroking her arm with his nails now, very gently, but the constant scrape was beginning to hurt.
"We usually get much better talent," he said, still loudly.
She said that she was no judge but was enjoying it.
The other guests remained silent while the performers struggled along, now obviously terrified. The king kept up his conversation and his insidious gentle scraping. She responded as naturally as she could, deliberately not moving her arm or even looking at it, although the pain was intense now and was making her eyes prickle.
The players were dancing a gavotte. The king had stopped scraping and put his arm around her. Her heart started beating faster than the gavotte.
The gavotte ended; jugglers and comedians sprang into action.
Jarkadon's hand slipped lower, and his fingers reached around to fondle the silk over her breast. She moved away, dislodging them.