King Martan the Conqueror’s portrait made him look less intimidating than Meleng had imagined. All the tales made him out to be a giant of a man, seven feet tall and able to wrestle a bear to the ground. According to his portrait, the man who had finally defeated King Everet’s armies, conquered all of Elooria, and personally beheaded the Dragon himself was small and scrawny. Although it was hard to be certain of his height from just a painting, he looked to be no taller than Meleng, if even that tall. He didn’t look able to lift the massive two-handed sword that he held in his hands with the point down and stuck in the floor at his feet, never mind overpower a bear. All in all, he was rather disappointing.

Pretty much everything here was a disappointment. Oh, it was beautiful to look at. He was in awe of the grounds and the building and everything in them. They were stunning. But the people...

There had been a couple of exceptions, but right from the start, almost everyone had assumed he was a servant. When the others had been shown to their rooms, he had been told he would be shown the servants’ quarters after he had finished his duties for the day. Rudiger and Jorvan had both tried to say that he wasn’t a servant, but no one would listen. They had nearly left him standing there alone in the courtyard. It had only been Prince Cerus’s intervention that had changed that. The Prince had made it very clear that Meleng was to be treated as a guest and not a servant. For that, Meleng was grateful. But he had still ended up with what he was certain must be the smallest guest room in the palace. It was barely half the size of Rudiger’s. And Zandrue’s...! Why did she always get the best things? She was an Eloorin too, wasn’t she? He hadn’t seen Jorvan’s accommodations—the Isyar had been taken to a special Isyar Pavilion—but he was sure they were better than his, too.

After unpacking his things, he had left his room to explore a bit. That had been a mistake. Although Prince Cerus had also stated that they were all free to explore the palace at their leisure—so long as they didn’t invade anyone’s personal rooms or apartments, and didn’t interrupt any meetings—almost no one was aware of it. Meleng had been stopped by nobles, guards, and palace servants alike, all wanting to know whose servant he was, what his business in that location was, where he was going. He supposed he should feel lucky that since he didn’t wear palace livery, no one actually mistook him for a palace servant. But being mistaken for somebody’s personal servant wasn’t much better.

He was now heading back to his room where, hopefully, he could hide for a while. He had simply stopped briefly to take a look at the portrait of the Conqueror. As he turned away from it, a group of young noble women came down the hall in his direction.

“So, you’ll never believe what happened then,” one of them, a small girl with sandy-brown hair, was saying. “She tried to order me to show her to her rooms.”

The one in the lead rolled her eyes. “She sounds exactly like she used to be. Lots of mouth and no brain.” The other women with her all giggled. They all stopped, as the lead one turned around to face the others. She was a tall, full-figured woman, with golden-blonde hair tied back with a single red ribbon. Her red dress was cut low in the bodice to reveal a lot of cleavage and the skirts fanned out twice as wide as those of her companions. In her right hand, she held a fan.

“According to Tomaz, who went to see her arrival,” she continued, “she was dressed in a common merchant’s travelling clothes. Can you believe it?”

“Oh, she was!” the small one said. “She looked quite comical trying to order me around.” She then made a face and spoke in a mocking tone. “Excuse me. I believe my father told you to escort me.”

They all laughed at that. Meleng scowled. He was starting to feel guilty for feeling down about his own experiences. It seemed like Felitïa was in for worse.

One of the group, a chubby woman with brown hair, pointed in his direction and they all fell silent. The one in the huge dress turned to face him. “You there. What are you staring at?”

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Meleng bowed hastily. “Uh, nothing, your Highness.” He hoped he had the right form of address.

“Then why are you standing there? Whose servant are you?”

Oh, to hell with it. He’d just tell them Felitïa. Maybe that would make her look good.

“He’s not a servant!” another voice said. At the back of the group, he noticed Princess Sinitïa, who’d been with the King when they’d arrived. She moved up to the other princess. “He’s a guest!”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Sinitïa. He’s an Eloorin. Of course he’s a servant.” She looked back at Meleng. “Now, are you going to answer—?”

“But he isn’t a servant!” Sinitïa protested.

The other princess rounded on her sister. “Sinitïa, stop interrupting me! Honestly, I don’t know where you get your flights of fancy!”

“But Annai!”

“No buts, Sinitïa!”

“Fine.” Sinitïa turned away, pouting.

“Annai,” the chubby one said, “if Cerus said, then maybe we should—”

“Oh, Cerus said! We must do what he says because he’s so dreamy.” Princess Annai fluttered her eyelids and fanned herself under the neck. The others laughed—except the chubby one, who blushed.

“Now then,” Annai said, addressing Meleng again, “I need you to do something for me.”

“What if he really isn’t a servant?” one of the others said.

“Even so, he’s still a commoner. Now then, I want you to take a message to my sister, Felitïa. Tell her...oh, what should you tell her? Tell her I am very unhappy with how she treated my good friend, Tianna, and that I expect her to make a public apology in front of the whole court. Yes, that will do. Now go on! Don’t just stand there. Move!”

Meleng bowed hastily and hurried down the hall. Behind him, they laughed. Once he was around a corner and they were out of sight, he stopped, realising that he wasn’t even sure how to find Felitïa. Damn it, he shouldn’t have let her bully him like that! Well, maybe he just wouldn’t deliver the message. See how she liked that! But what if that caused problems for Felitïa? That wouldn’t be good. He had better find out where Felitïa’s room was.

He was about to continue on when Princess Sinitïa came around the corner. His heart skipped a beat, but luckily, she was alone. Princess Annai and the others must have gone another way.

“I’m sorry, your Highness,” he said. “I was just about—”

“That’s okay,” she said. “Annai’s just being mean. She does it all the time. She’s like a big child. That’s what Cerus and Gabriella call her.”

Meleng nodded, not sure what to say.

“What’s your name?”

“Meleng, your Highness.”

“I’m Sinitïa.”

“A pleasure, your Highness.” He bowed. “If you’ll excuse me though, I should find Felitïa.”

“Oh yes, of course,” she said.

He started to turn away, but stopped and turned back. “I hope it’s not inappropriate of me to ask, but do you happen to know where Felitïa is?”

She shook her head. Then her eyes widened and she smiled. “But I know how to find out! Come.” She started off down the hall.

Meleng hesitated a moment.

“Come on!”

He followed after her.