Chapter 3

The spacious room was the only area so far that didn’t have multiple windows on every wall. Instead, the entire domed ceiling seemed to be made of glass. More crystal chandeliers were in this room too, and the rainbows leaping about on the wall were slightly disorienting.

Brightly colored tapestries hung on the walls, giving the illusion that they were windows opening to the world beyond, with scenes stitched onto them. A colorful parrot swooping past palm trees or a distant whale spouting on a beach, for example. Other tapestries held regal portraits of the Avivian royalty.

Ahead, I could see Princess Aria sitting atop an ornately carved throne. It was astounding to me that someone so young could radiate such a commanding presence. The Avivians had a matriarchal monarchy, meaning that the queen was the primary ruler, as opposed to the king. So even though Aria also had an older brother, she was the first one in line to rule, and Father had told me that Aria was currently in training to take over the throne.

Our group moved forward in single file. As the youngest and newest, I was last in line. I was grateful, because I had time to watch those in front of me and see what the exact greeting was to be. Even though I had learned the protocol during our culture etiquette courses required for all aristocratic children in Islandria, Father had drilled it into me again on our journey here.

The person at the head of the line would bow or curtsy deeply, then when told to rise, would clasp the princess’s hands in their own and the men would press their lips respectfully to her fingers. The women, instead of kissing the princess’s hands, would place their jaws against hers and make a slight kissing sound with their lips, but not actually placing lips against the princess’s cheek. After this customary greeting, each person would bow or curtsy again and back away to wait for the remainder of the line.

With each step I grew more anxious. I memorized where to step, when to curtsy, imagined the exact tilt of my head I would need to achieve in order to bump jaws. Just as one person remained in front of me, I realized I didn’t know where to look, and this was something I was unable to see whilst behind the entire line. Should I avert my eyes to show my humility? Meet her eyes as a friend? Was that too familiar? Should I look pointedly away, or was that too rude? My mind churned with questions.

I settled for a brief, friendly meeting of eyes and friendly smile, then looking down respectfully before I curtsied and placed my jaw next to hers. It seemed sufficient, and I moved to stand at the end of the line, the knot in my stomach loosening slightly.

“Welcome, friends,” Aria’s musical voice said in our language. Then she reverted back to Avivian. “It brings me joy to see so many old and new friends. I trust you will enjoy your stay.”

She smiled, her white teeth standing out brilliantly against her dark skin. She inclined her head, and everyone in our procession began moving off. Eager to follow suit and look like I knew the procedure, I traipsed along, but was internally confused. Was that it? We waited for well over an hour for a greeting and two sentences? I suppose I had been waiting to be chivvied immediately into meetings.

I followed our group’s guide through a maze of corridors until we came to a hallway lined with doors. One by one, the guide would gesture a person into a room and move on. Of course; these must be the guest chambers for the duration of our stay.

Again last, I was gestured into the final room in the hall. I bobbed my head in appreciation to the servant and murmured “Ethelenda” to him which was ‘Thank you’ in Avivian.

The room was small, but pleasant. My trunk had been placed at the end of the four-poster bed. A window opened onto the courtyard beyond, and the same blue silk from the entrance hall hung like curtains to the side. I sat on the bed and wondered what our schedule would be like for the rest of the day. Did I have time to rest? Was I expected to wash up and begin working?

A soft tapping on the door broke into my thoughts. “Come in!” I called. Father walked in.

“Father!” Even though we had been together almost every moment on the journey here, I was glad to see him. I always loved his company. He had a way of making me feel safe, and exuded an air of wisdom and confidence that I admired.

“What do you think?” Father asked, closing the door and sitting on the bed next to me.

“Well, I thought we would be busier,” I confessed. “It has just been sitting and a couple minutes of introductions so far.”

“Don’t worry, dear, the work will start bright and early tomorrow,” Father informed me. “Today is just a welcoming ceremony. We were greeted, shown to our rooms, and will have dinner and the recital this evening. It is customary to give travelers a day to recover. Once you are old and feeble like myself, you will understand.”

Father’s self-deprecating humor was one of the many things I loved about him. Even though he was neither old nor feeble, he was always quick to make jokes at his own expense if it would put others at ease. Prince Hubert, on the other hand, would get angry very quickly if anyone made light of any of his own characteristics. I had seen Curtis take advantage of Hubert’s over sensitive nature on a multitude of occasions.

I still wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do to fill my time between now and dinner. But Father was prepared. He pulled out a small wooden chess board and challenged me to a match.

We played chess until it was time for dinner. The welcoming banquet seemed to overwhelm each and every one of my senses. The smells emanating from the food were intoxicating. The bard, in his eccentric costume, danced among the tables, singing funny tunes so rapidly that I could only understand a fraction of his words. Small children darted between the rows of tables, snatching at bowls of food then scampering off again.

Father and I sat at a table reserved just for our company. Servants appeared and offered us dish after dish of food. Pineapple glazed in honey, a variety of creamy soups, soft yellow cheese bread, portions of meat still sizzling in pans, and a number of colorful vegetables I didn’t recognize. I ate daintily at first, trying to maintain a prim and proper image. But then I noticed that the other Islandrians were eating with gusto, packing their mouths and asking for thirds and fourths.

I glanced quizzically at Father, who whispered, “Avivians find it a compliment to their cooking and culture when their food is greatly desired. The more you eat, the happier they are.” He then returned to ravenously attacking his food. My manners instructor would faint.

So I ate. And ate. And ate. My stomach was nearly bursting when I finally refused to consume another bite. Everyone else in the hall seemed to have slowed down too.

It was at this point that the bard sat and musicians brought their instruments onto a raised platform. They began to play. Some instruments I had never seen before. Others were variations of instruments back home. The melodies flowed throughout the room. Some bouncy and peppy, others slow and dramatic. No one danced, which is what would have happened in Islandria. Instead, people swayed, bobbing their heads rhythmically in time to the music.

Instrumentalists played, singers warbled their songs, and I began to nod off. Father put his arm around my shoulders, and I woke up enough to hear Aria playing a beautiful piece on her harp before it was time for bed.

On the way back to our chambers, Father smiled at me. “Well Truly, you ate a lot and started to doze during their music. You will fit right in.”

I felt embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“It is alright,” Father reassured me. “Just as eating an inordinate amount of food is a compliment to their cooking, and they consider the ability to play someone to sleep a compliment to their music.”

“Well, I like these customs,” I said sincerely.

“Good night, my dear.” Father said as we arrived at my door. I barely had time to undress before I collapsed into my bed, fast asleep.