As soon as Adon met back up with Goldie and Samson, he told them what was going on with his Telepathy.

So, you can hear all our thoughts now? Samson asked nervously.

No, Adon sent back. I just hear bits and pieces more than what you wanted me to hear. It’s kind of complicated, and I don’t know how it works yet. I can’t control it except by deactivating Telepathy completely.

Which won’t work at dinner, Goldie finished. You need to be able to participate in the table conversation.

I guess, Adon thought. I don’t really know if I even want to, though.

He thought about telling Goldie how Frederick seemed to feel about mystic beasts, but then he thought better of it. That would just spoil the whole dinner. And it was unfair to poison their future interactions by giving up what Frederick had thought upon first impression. For all Adon knew, the younger brother would turn out to be open-minded and would change his tune during their stay.

As he was considering this, the King stepped back into the room, preceded by a pair of servants who held the doors open and stood at attention as the King entered. Alistair had dressed down slightly for dinner, in a deep green tunic and navy blue trousers, though the differences between his various clothing options felt markedly less pronounced than those of Rosslyn’s options.

Shortly behind him came Queen Carolien, dressed in a blue gown with a pattern of golden symbols—they resembled infinity symbols, but the dress featured intertwined rectangles instead of the circular loops of the infinity symbol.

The children followed, girls and boys dressed like miniature versions of their mother and father respectively.

Alistair smiled at the arthropods and then locked eyes with Adon as he entered the room.

The King quickly crossed the short distance that separated him from the butterfly.

“Rosslyn told me about your situation,” he said quietly, nodding at Adon. “In a very abbreviated form, but I wanted you to know that I understand. I will likewise avoid—”

The doors opened again, held this time by the same servants who had led the young lords away, and unsurprisingly, the Duke’s sons entered the room next. Both were dressed similarly to the King, though in different colors—cobalt blue tunics with mustard yellow trousers. Their tunics had spider insignias woven into them in golden thread.

Oh. So, the mystic beast their country took as its symbol is…

Adon turned his head to Goldie, who was looking at the golden insignias and tilting her head slightly.

What is that about? he heard her think.

Adon thought about explaining it to her, but again, he felt it was a conversation better had away from all these others.

“We hope we are not late,” said William.

“At least not unfashionably,” added Frederick with a dry smile.

I will avoid inadvertently revealing national security secrets, finished Alistair in his mind, turning to face the young lords. Use your ability to your heart’s content. Also, in case you feel uncomfortable at dinner tonight, I wanted you to know that it is only necessary that you attend on the first and last night of the visit. If you would prefer to eat separately on the other evenings, you have only to let us know.

Of course, the King had already told him this.

Is it possible he forgot that he mentioned it before? Adon wondered. He knew that Alistair had a lot on his mind, but was it more than that? Is this some kind of a hint? Does it mean the King thinks I’m going to cramp their style? Is he nervous himself, and that’s why he repeated this?

Or had the Princess also told Alistair that Adon was a little socially awkward? The butterfly did not think the King had spent enough time around him to figure that out himself—or, at least, he hoped not. Adon didn’t think he was completely lacking in social skills—only somewhat inexperienced in that area.

He certainly did not begrudge the Princess having taken the opportunity to inform her father about Adon’s mind-reading. It probably would have been irresponsible of her not to do that.

But a part of him couldn’t help wondering what secrets they were keeping, exactly.

He hadn’t a clue what information it could be critical to hide from him specifically.

“On the contrary,” Alistair said aloud as Adon was thinking. “We are still awaiting the Princess. No one is ever late to dinner unless they arrive after her.” He spoke with an indulgent smile. Adon judged by the King’s tone that Rosslyn herself would never be considered late, and the butterfly found himself wondering for the first time if the Princess might have been a little spoiled as a child.

The doors had scarcely closed behind the young lords, when they opened again, this time held by female servants.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

The Princess strode into the room, and the whole room except the King seemed to gasp.

Her less formal outfit was spectacular in its own way.

She had changed into a tightly fitted emerald green gown with a crystal brooch at the shoulder that displayed a rainbow of colors as she moved. Adon looked at it for a moment before he realized the crystal had been carved into the shape of a butterfly. The neckline of the dress was just low enough that it showed just a hint of cleavage.

Adon thought she looked softer and more feminine than he had ever seen her. Once, he had thought that she was a bit intimidating. Then he had come to know that she was reasonably kind, but unusually strong and a skilled warrior and mage—and, as the next person in line for the throne, her father’s confidant. But that revelation, and Rosslyn’s role teaching the arthropods magic, had only made her seem more formidable—like a woman ten years older.

In this dress, for the first time, Adon saw Rosslyn looking every bit as young, vulnerable, and innocent as her actual early twenties age. He felt a strong desire to protect her from anything that might harm her. He guessed that this was part of what made people want to fight and die for royalty. Even if they had no voice in their system of government, at least they were dying for a beautiful, radiant image.

How does a dress do that? he wondered.

She seemed subtly transformed, though he did not detect any difference in her hair or makeup. Perhaps it was something about her face.

There was a quietly tragic expression there—or perhaps it was only a trick of the light.

She’s beautiful, he heard Samson thinking. It felt like there was a slightly lustful undertone there.

Adon wanted to tell his brother to keep his eyes to himself—this was an old man, as far as he was concerned, based on Samson’s age when he died—but then, what did that make Adon?

Even though the butterfly identified with and felt like the twenty-six-year-old human he had been in his previous life, he technically had centuries worth of past life experience.

Besides, Samson was allowed to think whatever he wanted. It wasn’t as if he had deliberately transmitted that thought to Adon. It was only the butterfly’s telepathic incontinence that had caused him to pick up on this private thought.

I’m going to need to get a lot more understanding of people thinking things I don’t like, Adon told himself. On the bright side, at least now I’ll know if I’m failing at a conversation. I won’t have to guess and look like an idiot without realizing.

To his surprise, the young lords did not seem especially impressed by the change of clothes.

A much simpler outfit, was all William thought.

And Frederick only wanted to know when they could eat.

Rosslyn’s younger siblings noticed that she looked pretty but quickly moved on to thinking about other subjects—mainly the same one Frederick was wondering about.

The royal dining party quickly advanced into a different dining area than Adon had ever seen them use before, with a much larger table that could easily have seated dozens of people.

The King sat at the table’s head, with the Queen at his right hand side and Rosslyn to his left. The servants carrying Adon’s, Goldie’s, and Samson’s pillows set them down in a row next to the Queen, while William was positioned beside Rosslyn, followed by Frederick to his left, opposite Adon and the spiders.

The children were seated at the other end of the table, almost as if they were at a children's table rather than attending the same dinner as the adults.

Adon heard their thoughts, and he realized that the children did not seem to mind this treatment. They were used to being seated separately from the adults at formal dinners, and they thought these affairs were boring anyway.

Then the doors to the large dining room opened again, and Adon really noticed for the first time that more places were set at the table than those for the members of the family. In fact, it looked as if they were anticipating the table to be almost full.

Sure enough, close to two dozen nobles entered the room, trailed by servants, and they began seating themselves at the table in the spaces between the royal party and the children. There was no jockeying over place that Adon could see. It was as if every person knew where they belonged, and their places were all based on some clear conception of social rank—that, or a detailed seating chart had been made available to them before the dinner, accounting for the fact that the young lords, Adon, Goldie, and Samson would be present.

As everyone seated themselves, staff appeared bearing dozens of different serving dishes, carrying foods of all kinds—oysters, soups, vegetable dishes, fish, sweetbreads, a spinach pastry dish of some sort, roasts, heavy pudding—more than Adon’s mind could wrap itself around. Some of it looked and smelled good to him as well, though the same servant who had been attending him naturally brought him his liquid meal instead.

It’s probably for the best that I don’t get solid food, he told himself. Then everyone would have to watch me liquefy it, and I think my way of doing that is probably even grosser than the spiders’ method…

Adon waited for the cue to begin eating. The familiar sights and smells of food, along with the very close smell of his own drinks—which he could taste from simply standing on the edge of one of his goblets—had him as hungry as Frederick. The younger son of the Duke looked like he was trying his best not to literally salivate at the plate before him.

But of course, at these royal affairs, protocols and formalities came first.

The King rose from his seat and lifted his goblet as he stood.

Adon realized that Alistair was about to make a toast, and the butterfly felt pleased, because he knew that he would be able to take a drink as soon as the King was finished speaking—which, for him, was the same as getting to start his dinner. Adon would get a relative head start.

As the King started speaking, Adon barely restrained himself from quivering with excitement.

“Gathered friends, family, and fellow countrymen…” Alistair said.

Thus began a long series of toasts in which the King thanked Duke Pruford for sending his sons, thanked the sons for making the long journey across Dessia and Claustria to be here, and thanked his nobles for making them welcome. Not to leave anyone out, he also toasted the arthropods, the Goddess whose grace gave life to all of them, and all enemies of the Demon Emperor.

Adon imagined that he saw a couple of people near the end of the table beginning to get drunk as the toasts continued. He supposed they could not hold their liquor, a problem he found relatable—although, fortunately for him, the King had listened to Adon’s request and had the intoxicating drinks in front of the butterfly heavily diluted.

The butterfly was simply happy to have a socially acceptable reason to begin eating—and he felt a little bit of pity for those who were not getting all of their calories from liquids.

Now if only I could also get some of that pudding…