A pair of servants opened the dining room doors, letting Akna and Felitïa through. The room was long and thin, with a long table running down the centre. Lord Belone’s family sat around it in much the same way Lord Padara’s had back in Dorg—all clustered at one end of the table. Lord Belone himself sat at the end, with his wife to his right, at the end of one of the long sides. Seated to her right was Danel Belone, but the seat directly across from her and to Lord Belone’s left was empty. Next to Danel was an older man similar in age to Lord Belone. He had been in the throne room earlier, and had been introduced to her and Felitïa—well, technically just to Felitïa—but Akna couldn’t remember who he was. Directly across from Danel sat Anita Belone.

Lord Belone rose as she and Felitïa entered. “Your Highness! I’m so glad you could make it. Please, have a seat.” He motioned to the empty seat beside him.

“Thank you.” Felitïa started forward, and Akna followed, even though Belone had not indicated a seat for her.

Akna could feel their eyes on her as she walked the length of the room behind Felitïa. There was undisguised contempt on Danel Belone’s face. His mother looked at her, shook her head just slightly, and frowned. The man whose name Akna couldn’t remember curled his upper lip.

Was it just the fact she was there? Or was it how she was dressed? Probably both.

Felitïa was wearing a sky-blue gown in the Arnorin style with a thin gold necklace around her neck. The outfit made concessions to the formality these Foliths expected without being ostentatious about it. Both Lord Belone and his wife wore reams of jewellery: necklaces and rings. Siba Belone wore several gold bracelets as well. Their two children did not wear as much jewellery as they did, but still wore considerably more than Felitïa.

Akna, however, was wearing what she always wore. Admittedly, it could use a wash—though she was reasonably certain that wasn’t very noticeable; there were no obvious blood stains—but it was the most formal thing she owned. She was doing them a great honour wearing it to their dinner, but Foliths would never understand that.

Felitïa passed Anita and sat in the empty seat between her and Lord Belone. Akna stopped, not sure where she should sit. Beside Anita?

Anita smiled up at her and motioned to the seat. “You can sit beside me, Nin-Akna.”

Akna sat. “Thank you.”

The table was laden with all kinds of foods. Most Akna didn’t recognise, though there were a few vegetables that looked familiar. The thing that struck her most, however, was how much there was of it. There seemed far more than the small group of people here could possibly eat. This was very different from how it had been at Lord Padara’s in Dorg. Though really, with the exception of how everyone was clustered at the one end of the table, everything here was very different than in Dorg. From the jewellery to the paintings on the walls and the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, everything here seemed designed to draw attention to how expensive it was, unlike Lord Padara’s dining room, which was designed more for function than appearance.

“You should have the pheasant,” Anita said, reaching for one of the plates of food. “And we have fresh tubers and turnips.”

Akna nodded and accepted the food as Anita handed it to her.

“I hope you had a pleasant journey here, your Highness,” Lord Belone said. “I presume you came upriver from Dorg?”

“Yes, we did.” Felitïa accepted some food that Anita also passed to her. “It was mostly uneventful and...restful.”

That was a complete lie, though Akna understood why Felitïa told it. How would she explain the fact neither of them had restful nights these days?

“I understand the Tirin is relatively calm this time of year,” Lord Belone said, “so I’m not surprised. Still, I’m glad you did not have a difficult time.”

“Thank you, your Lordship.”

Small talk. Akna had discovered in Dorg that she was not very good at it. She decided she would just tune it out and let Felitïa deal with it—although Felitïa didn’t seem very good at it, either.

“So, Miss...uh...Ninnika, is it?”

Akna looked up. It was Siba Belone who had spoken. “Nin-Akna.”

“My apologies, Nin-Akna. Those...uh...designs on your face and arms...and legs too?”

Akna nodded.

“You must spend a lot of time applying them. Do they wash off easily?”

Danel scoffed and tossed down a piece of meat he’d been gnawing on. “They’re tattoos, Mother. They don’t wash off.”

“Oh. Well, I haven’t seen a person with tattoos before, so how was I supposed to know?” She looked back over at Akna. “If they don’t wash off, how do you get clean?”

“I can still wash myself,” Akna said. “Why would I not be able to wash myself?”

“With a tattoo, Mother,” Anita said, “the ink gets under the skin. It doesn’t block water from washing the skin.”

“All right,” Siba said. “It just seems strange to me, that’s all. How does the ink get there?”

“Many sailors get tattoos, Siba,” the large man whose name Akna couldn’t remember said.

“Yes, I’d heard that, but I don’t spend my time around sailors, you know.”

Anita leaned closer to Akna and whispered, “Don’t worry about her. She’s just...well, there’s no good excuse, but don’t let her get to you.”

“Sure,” Akna whispered back. It was easy to give that sort of advice when not the target.

Small talk took up the rest of the dinner, which was a lot longer than Akna was comfortable with. She soon learned to stop eating, as every time she finished what she had, someone offered her more and expected her to take it. She also figured out the other man was Lord Belone’s brother, Horaz.

Lord Belone did most of the talking, asking Felitïa a lot of questions, mostly about her time growing up in Quorge. Although that growing up had been right under his nose and he had known about it, he didn’t know much about what she did. He was also interested in learning what Scovese was like.

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“Hot,” Felitïa replied. “Like Southern Arnor, only hotter.”

“I certainly wouldn’t mind going somewhere like that in the winter,” Horaz said, and several of the others laughed.

Anita leaned in close to Akna again—as she had been doing throughout much of the conversation. “Uncle Horaz always complains about winter. He’s a bit of a wimp really.”

“What’s that, Anita dear?” Horaz said.

Anita straightened up. “Oh nothing. I was just telling Nin-Akna how great a soldier you were in your army days.”

“Oh, well, yes. I don’t mean to sound like a braggart, but I was quite accomplished, Miss Ninnika. Got quite a few medals from it all.” He began to go on about various exploits he’d had, including serving as a young soldier in Queen Felitïa’s campaign against the Darkers, something he was apparently very proud of.

“Sorry,” Anita mouthed to Akna early in his storytelling.

Akna wasn’t sure how late it was when the dinner finally ended. Horaz was the first to excuse himself, and was followed shortly after by Lord Belone himself and his wife. As soon as they were gone, accompanied by a retinue of guards, Danel got up and left without saying a word—he had said little during the entire dinner either.

Akna finished off the last of the wine in her cup. Felitïa was standing up.

“Shall I walk you to your rooms?” Anita offered.

“Thank you, Anita,” Felitïa said.

It wasn’t a long walk, and they went most of the way in silence. Anita stole several glances at Akna along the way.

Akna tried to look away and hide her smile. Anita was kind of cute—for a noble. Her small stature reminded Akna somewhat of Chica or Meleng, both small people that she missed terribly.

“I didn’t get a chance to thank your father for the lovely dinner,” Felitïa said when they reached their rooms. Her room and Akna’s were side by side. “Please pass my thanks on to him.”

Anita curtsied.

Akna wished she understood why Arnorin women were expected to do that so often.

“I’d be happy to, your Highness,” Anita said.

“Then I’ll bid you goodnight. I’m very tired.” Felitïa looked at Akna. “Will you be all right?”

Akna nodded.

“Goodnight then.”

“Goodnight, your Highness.” Anita curtsied again.

Felitïa went into her room, and closed the door, leaving Akna and Anita standing there.

Anita smiled at Akna. “I hope you weren’t too bored.”

Akna shrugged. She had been very bored, but she suspected this was one of those cases where Arnorins expected a lie. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“You had a pained expression the entire time.”

“No, I didn’t! Did I?”

Anita giggled. “I’m afraid you did.”

Akna looked down at the floor. “Sorry. I hope I didn’t cause offence.”

“To me, no,” Anita said.

Akna looked up at her. She was still smiling. Akna smiled back. “That’s good.”

“I will bid you goodnight, Nin-Akna. If you need anything, please let me know. Anything at all.”

“I will. Thank you, Anita. Goodnight.”

Anita curtsied, then headed off down the hall.

Akna started to open her door, but paused and looked in the direction Anita had gone, just in time to see Anita turn around a corner up ahead.

And just in time to see another person pass Anita and cross the intersection of corridors—a short person with hair down to her waist.

Just like Chica.

But it had been too quick a glance. Either she was hallucinating again, or it was just someone with a superficial resemblance to Chica.

Or maybe it was like with Felitïa last night—someone who looked nothing like Chica, but she nevertheless still mistook for Chica.

She was not going to investigate. She was going to get some sleep.

She walked to the intersection and looked around the corner.

No Chica. No person at all. If there had been anyone, they had probably gone through any of the several visible doors.

She was just seeing what she wanted to see. That much seemed clear.

She needed to sleep. Maybe if she ever managed to get a restful night, she’d stop seeing things like this.

Akna turned around to return to her room. Danel Belone was coming down the hall carrying an open book that he was reading as he walked. He looked up at her.

“What are you doing wandering the halls?”

“Just taking a walk.”

“Well don’t. Savages like you don’t get to roam here unsupervised. Go back to your room.”

Akna took a deep breath. Don’t start anything.

“Well? Go!”

To hell with Arnorin etiquette.

She grabbed his arm and twisted it around, shoving him against the wall. The book clattered onto the floor, and he cried out in pain.

“Don’t ever call me that again.”

“Guards! Guards!”

She twisted his arm farther, and he yelped again.

“All right, all right, please let me go.”

She let go just as a pair of guards with water fowl tabards came rushing down the hall. “My Lord?” one said.

Danel glared at Akna. “Please escort this...this...savage back to her room!”

“Yes, my Lord.”

Akna raised her hands in submission and started towards her room.

“You won’t get away with this, savage!” Danel called after her. “I’ll see you hanged for this!”