Between the Veil and Crown

Arvek 17

            Breakfast was an uncomfortable affair.

King Tyrovo had no issues with informing the queen that castle's servants who attended to them that morning missed the mark in the service the provided, and that their incompetence had stretched to how poorly they set the dining table. Tyrovo set all these faults of the servants at Niara's feet, as though they were personal offenses set because they knew of his arrival.

Niara handled herself graciously, taking in Tyrovo's complaints and only responding with a, "I am sorry it was not to your liking."

With each complaint, Arvek's appetite ebbed away and his hand gripped his eating utensils all the harder. He could feel the metal edges digging into his skin, but it was better than doing something completely undiplomatic, thus ruining the alliance the two kingdoms were about to enter. It was surprising to him that his father did nothing. Perhaps seeing the ancient king had bolstered Masitof's visions of taking over the Phrompt kingdom, and anything that Tyrovo had to say was worth it knowing that the Phrompt king had nothing else.

The criticism briefly stopped as Tyrovo ate some of the food. The entire time, Rovyna sat beside him, quietly eating her food. She surveyed everyone at the table curiously, yet with a knowing look in her eye that would have held more of Arvek's attention had her father not been the epitome of poor manners.

After Tyrovo took a few bites, he set down his fork and his body rose slightly as he took in a deep breath. Arvek twisted the fork in his hand, his jaw tightening. He felt rather than saw Cor glance at him nervously. He didn't care though. He wasn't sure if he could take one more thing Tyrovo had to say about Harlofelp.

Before Tyrovo had a chance to open his mouth, Rovyna loudly and suddenly set the cup she was drinking from down on the table, causing everyone at the table to startle and turn their attention to her.

"My sincerest apologies," she said in the same smooth and diplomatic tone of the day before. "I suppose I am not used to such heavy goblets. If you would ever be so kind as to excuse me? Now that we have finished, it would be best for us to take a moment to recline in the sun and take in all that it has to offer us."

Masitof made a gesture of dismissal and Rovyna helped her father to his feet. He was mumbling something under his breath to her, but she ignored whatever it was he said, dipping her head at the others at the table as she guided her father away to find a patch of sun.

The royal family waited until they were well out of the room before making any comment.

"I would think that anyone who was raised too be king would have better manners than that," Veran remarked. "Who insults his host so thoroughly? Not even a commoner would do that."

"I suppose he has nothing else to bring him joy," Masitof answered simply, taking a sip from his goblet. "His kingdom is falling to a plague, all of his sons are dead, and he has to rely on the help of a stronger kingdom to keep everyone from dying. Verbal attacks are all he has left."

Veran did not seem to notice his father's answer. He instead turned to look at Arvek. "If Rovyna is anything like her father, you're going to have your hands full."

"She seems to handle herself well," Niara retorted, a warning tone in her voice. "I would save harsh judgment for her until she actually does something worthy of it."

Arvek agreed with her, but the warning tone aside, there was something else in her voice that brought him pause. Was it annoyance? It was the closest thing he could think of.