Blood-Bound [ Lore of Penrua: Book I ]

21

The family was seated in the banquet hall. The board was already laden with an array of food; the sight and scent were almost dizzying to Mhera, used as she was now to bread, potatoes and boiled vegetables for every repast. A long line of servants, some with markes stark upon their cheeks, stood ready to wait upon the royal family.

Mhera's parents rose to greet her with brisk embraces, and Mhera kissed each of them on the cheek with a sinking heart. How could it be that each reunion with her parents left her feeling so disappointed, so unfulfilled? Even after seven long years, she had nurtured a feeble hope—a longing to suddenly feel some deep connection with those who had made her. Yet their faces were nearly unknown to her. She looked around the room, hoping to see her governess, Madam Gella, but of course the woman was not present.

"Daughter," Joris said, clasping her shoulder. "You are looking so well. How good that the abbess could release you from your service in time for us to reunite, however briefly."

"Thank you, Father," Mhera said. To her own ears her tone was flat and ungrateful, but Joris did not seem even to notice. She thought, If he can say I look well in these widow's weeds, he knows me not at all.

"I trust you are making progress at the Haven?" Mhera's mother asked, studying her daughter with a small frown. Her eyes flicked down to Mhera's wet braid and the damp breast of her robe and back up again at her plain, pale face. Mharin had never managed to look pleased with her child, so her thinly-veiled disappointment did not faze Mhera.

"I am. I have come to understand the Sight better than before, at the least, although I do not think I shall ever understand it fully."

"As I told you before, Sister, Mhera has served the realm with this gift," the emperor said. He smiled fondly at Mhera as he took his place at the head of the table. "It was a vision of hers that led us to capture the woman they call the rebel queen. Justice will be served."

Mharin gave her daughter an awkward smile and patted her cheek. She said, "I see. I am sure you must stay very busy there. Well—come, dear."

Breaking away from a conversation Mhera suspected was equally uncomfortable for them both, Mharin glided to her place at the table. Joris pulled out a high-backed chair and Mharin folded herself smoothly into her seat.

The meal was a symphony of appealing scents, tastes, and sights. It was a feast fit to welcome back the emperor's sister, his favored ambassador, and his young niece. But the food was too rich for Mhera. She took small portions. After a few bites, she began to feel ill, and she turned her attention instead to a fragrant floral tea.

She let her family's conversation flood over her. There was little she could contribute, having been absent for so long, and of course Joris and Mharin came home laden with a dozen stories from their travels and triumphs. Then there was talk of her cousins' progress in their studies and their myriad accomplishments, none of which was especially interesting to her now.

Mhera watched her cousins from under her lashes, letting the steam from her tea warm her cheeks. They were so changed in the years that had passed she might not have recognized them. Koren, stabbing chunks of meat with his knife and talking over his brother, had grown broader and stronger than ever, if it were possible. He had always had a love of the more active pursuits such as swordplay, archery and riding, which showed in his physique. He made frequent ventures into conversation with his father; his ambition to succeed Korvan as emperor was clear. At his side was his beautiful young wife, Princess Liara, whose gentle personality was so overshadowed by Koren's that she hardly seemed to be there at all.

Kaori, mild-mannered as always, ventured into polite conversation with Mhera. "How do you fare at the Haven, Cousin?"

"Well enough," Mhera replied. She smiled, but tried through her tone to discourage the line of conversation.