Veria scanned the room but saw nothing besides the telescopes and a few baskets of parchment and stacks of books.
“Where?” she asked.
He grinned and pointed to the table they sat at, which was covered in a table cloth under all the food.
“Oh!” Veria uttered. “Well, I am finished eating.”
“Are you sure?” Browan asked. “I wouldn't want to rush you.”
“I promise I have had my fill,” she replied. “I usually eat lightly dressed greens and a small chunk of gilltrout for lunch, so this has been more than filling, thank you.”
“You are quite welcome,” he said, then the two moved the food to the floor next to them and Browan removed the tablecloth once it was clear.
The table was, in fact, a board. A grid, Veria noted, as Browan pulled open a drawer on his side, with larger rectangles nearest them, smaller squares lining the outer edges, and large squares throughout the entire middle of the board, which had been painted to look like a grassy field.
Browan started to populate the squares nearest her with wooden figures.
“This is your archer,” he said, his voice eager and warm as he placed a small figure wielding a bow in one of the small squares on the left side of the board. “Archers must be three squares away from their target to attack.”
He filled the entire left side of the board with archer figures, save for about four slots nearest her, then filled the entire right side with the same figures, but made of a darker wood, which Veria figured were his archers.
“This is your cavalry,” he explained, placing a champion on horseback in one of the long rectangles directly in front of her. “If they come within one square of the archers, they defeat them, otherwise they have to be on the side of one of the other figures to attack.”
He produced two more types of figures, one was a unique type holding a banner, and then there were three of a figure wearing a hooded cloak.
“Your leader,” he held up the figure with the banner, “attacks all his adjacent squares, and will defeat up to the number of enemy figures you have already defeated.”
Veria nodded, though she was feeling a little overwhelmed with all the information. She didn't typically play games, let alone strategy games—certainly not battleground strategy. Sometimes she played dice games with her mother or memory games when she was younger, but nothing like this.
“And finally,” he held up one of the hooded figures, “the Magers.”
He spun it around in his hand before placing it in one of her empty squares on the side.
“What do they do?” Veria asked.
“They defeat every enemy on the board if there are no enemies on their half of the board,” he answered.
“My word,” Veria sighed.
“Yes,” Browan nodded as he set the other Mager figures in their slots, “this is a very old game, and when it was created, the Magers were very powerful. Since my grandfather placed the ban on hard elementals, though, they have mostly been relegated to advisory positions in the Kingdom, as you well know. Your father was my adviser, his best friend is my most trusted diplomat...and you have trained, of course. I am sure this has all been explained to you by your Master.”
“Yes,” Veria nodded.
“The game is simple,” Browan continued. “On your turn you either move one figure one adjacent space, or attack.”
“You and I might have different definitions of 'simple',” Veria laughed. “I think you have much more strategic knowledge than myself.”
“There's only one way to learn,” Browan said, raising his eyebrows at her. “Are you ready?”
Veria nodded. “Sure. I will give anything a try once.”
“Well, then,” Browan said. “Ladies first.”
- II-
Browan ended up soundly beating her at Tactics, which she had figured would happen. He had told her they could play again the following day if she wished, and he could give her some pointers. After that game, she had realized she spent too much time trying to line up her Magers to wipe all of his figures out of battle, but was never able to achieve the feat with Browan's solid line of archers taking out many of her initial placements and her leader while all she did was focus on getting his cavalry out of her half of the board.
“He played Tactics with you?” Tanisca asked when Veria recounted the day over dinner, her face scrunched in disapproval. “Your father and Willis played that game incessantly when they were together. Sounds like the King wants a best friend more than he wants a Queen.”
“Well, maybe it is not a ladylike game, but I liked it,” Veria rebutted. “Even though I am quite awful at it,” she mumbled.
“Well, that's fine if you are awful at it, and fine that you like it, I suppose,” Tanisca said. “As long as he's interested in other things besides playing board games with you.”
“For the hundredth time tonight, yes, Mother,” Veria groaned. “He is having all manner of impure thoughts about me. He is attracted to me, to say the least.”
“And for the hundredth time, good,” Tanisca replied as she spooned mashed sweet roots into Irea's mouth.
“He just wants to sleep with me,” Veria said. “It's not like he wants to marry me or make me Queen.”
“Even being the King's lover gives you a degree of influence and power that you do not have now,” Tanisca argued. “Especially with your skills,” she added, with a sharp, pointed gesture of the small spoon she held, which caused mashed orange sweet root to fly across the table toward Veria.
“What if I don't want to—”
“Do you?” Tanisca cut her off. “Do you want to?” Her mother cocked her head at her, then her ruby red lip part into a knowing, satisfied grin. “You liked the attention. You want more.”
“Stop reading my thoughts,” Veria groaned, feeling her cheeks flush.
“Desires, honey,” her mother corrected.
“Fine, desires,” Veria muttered. “Mother, he is really kind. Polite, and thoughtful...I wasn't expecting that at all.”
“He meets with all kinds of people from all over the world, and he was bred of the highest pedigree. Of course he's polite.”
“No, Mother, he's...you were right. He is looking for a friend. He's tired, and overwhelmed, and-and...lonely.”
“He sounds vulnerable,” Tanisca commented.
“Exactly,” Veria replied.
“Good. Use it.”
Veria sighed in frustration. “Mother. I am not using his loneliness, nor any of his rather admirable qualities, to my advantage.”
“Oh, you must really like him,” Tanisca teased. “I haven't heard you use the word 'admirable' to describe anyone, ever.”
“I do like him,” Veria affirmed, “which is why I won't be manipulating him as part of some power play.”
“Suit yourself,” Tanisca shrugged. “You have fun playing Tactics with your new best friend.”
“I will,” Veria grinned.
“Build a front line of archers, then bring your Mager in,” Tanisca mumbled.
“What?”
“If you want to play out your Mager attack,” she said, speaking up, but reluctantly, “build a front line of archers, then bring in your Mager. You might lose some archers in the process, but they will lose more, and won't be able to progress forward to your side of the board,” she explained. “I heard your desire to use the Mager attack when I mentioned the game.”
“So you have played,” Veria replied.
“Very seldomly,” Tanisca said. “Your father was always wanting to play when Willis was on his longer diplomatic missions, so I obliged him a few times. It was a tedious game in my mind, but he was always quite affectionate afterward.”
“Mother,” Veria groaned in disgust at hearing about her parents' love life, “stop.”
“It could be worse. I could talk about Strelzar,” Tanisca teased.
“No!” Veria yelled, shoving her fingers in her ears and jumping up from the table. “No-no-no-no-no.
..I am not listening!”
Before she left the dining room, Veria looked back and caught a glimpse of Tanisca and Irea exchanging giggles, both of their faces scrunched and noses wrinkled as they tittered conspiratorially, their heads nearly touching.
But it was Irea who got the last laugh out of all of them, grabbing the spoonful of mashed sweet root from Tanisca's hand and plopping it down on top of her grandmother's head. Veria doubled over in hysterics and Irea's laughter grew in excitement as Tanisca reached up with a smirk and started to wipe the orange glop out of her curly red hair.
“A practical court jester in the making we have here, wouldn't you say?” Tanisca laughed.
“I think so,” Veria said as she tried to catch her breath.
“Well, little joker,” Tanisca said, pulling Irea out of her seat, “now you get to take a bath with Grandma Tani. Again.”
The next morning, Veria awoke to a knock on her door. Pulling her silk robe over her nightgown, allowing a long stretch of her arms, she opened it to see her maid holding a giant floral arrangement that looked larger than her.
“Oh my, put that down, dear,” Veria said, and helped the small girl set the basket down on the floor.
“It just came for you, my Lady,” she said with a small curtsey. “There is a letter tucked into the basket, but the man who delivered it was from the castle, miss.”
Veria's heart fluttered as she went searching for the letter. Tanisca must have been awoken by the commotion, as well, as she came out into the hallway from her bedroom, wrapped in her green silk robe and groggy in the eyes.
“My goodness!” she exclaimed once she laid eyes on the huge basket of flowers.
Veria practically jumped when she lifted a large, floppy flora bloom at the base of the arrangement and felt her hand brush against smooth, crisp paper. She snatched it out of the basket and ripped the letter out of its light blue envelope.
She read aloud: “Lady Veria, I will send my personal carriage to fetch you at four o'clock. I am looking forward to our dinner immensely. Yours, Browan.”
“Oh my...” the maid muttered.
“Oh my, indeed,” Tanisca echoed.
Veria's hand trembled a bit as it held the letter. Suddenly she was nervous. Was she being...courted? she thought. She had never experienced anything like this—gifts and flowers and private dinners and thoughtful gestures.
Her stomach lurched fearing there was a likely chance she'd mess it up somehow.
In an effort to look as perfect as possible, Veria spent almost the entire day getting ready for the dinner with Browan. She bathed, and her mother added goat's milk and dracon-tongue sachets to the water, and when she was just out of the bath, she slathered Tal'lean oil over her arms and legs so her skin would be baby soft and smell of roses.
Many maids and her mother fussed over every curl and pin in her hair, and when they were done, she went about doing her makeup, applying basically every thing she had—powder over her whole face, coral rouge, vermillion lip cream, dark kohl to line her eyes—methodically and carefully.
The maids and Cook and her mother gasped as she came down the stairs just before four o'clock in the bejeweled red dress the King had sent, her hair tumbling out of its half twist in perfect curls over her shoulders, her makeup making her look both more delicate and more serious all at once.
“Stunning, Via,” Tanisca said, grabbing her hands and squeezing them tightly. Veria thought she noticed moisture twinkling in her mother's eyes.
“If His Majesty has a weak heart, he might jus' drop dead!” the Cook guffawed, and everyone giggled.
They all turned to the door at the sound of hoof beats approaching.
“Alright, this is it,” Veria sighed. “Thank you for your help, all of you.”
Her mother opened the door for her and the King's driver quickly climbed down from his bench and jaunted up the steps to escort her down them and into the carriage.
The entire ride to the castle, her stomach flipped and churned, and her heart pounded. She felt as nervous now as she had going into Plazic Peak, and that was in fear for her life. She had never been this nervous to go to a dinner...but she had never been to a dinner like this. She had never been on a date.
Her heart pounded when they arrived at the castle, and the gate rose and let the carriage right through, into the back courtyard, and through the rose garden. It stopped at the end of the paved path, right in front of the grand fountain she had noticed from the observation tower the day prior.
The door to the carriage opened, and she was expecting to see the driver ready to help her down, but it was Browan himself. He reached his large, strong hand into the carriage for hers, and she took it and stepped down.
“My Lady...” Browan murmured. “I...I have no words for how perfect you look tonight.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” she said softly as he pulled her hand up to his lips and kissed it.
“Browan, please,” he corrected her with a large smile, as he had the day before. “We are friends. And I don't make my friends address me formally.”
“Friends,” Veria repeated.
“Yes, friends,” Browan replied, his smiling growing even wider.
Her eyes lingered on his face just a bit longer than would be considered normal, or polite, spending extra time on the large, starry golden eyes that darted around, taking her in while she did the same to him. His face was square, strong-looking like the rest of him, set by a powerful angular jaw, but balanced with round, gentle cheekbones, and those wide golden eyes...
“Dinner will be ready any minute,” Browan whispered finally, after they had been looking at each other in silence for several moments. “Shall we go inside?”
Veria nodded, and he escorted her inside the castle, into the long, cavernous dining room, her arm wrapped around his and tucked in close to his body.
The main table in the dining room looked like it probably seated at least thirty people, but only two places at the very end were set tonight. The entire room glowed with orange and yellow torch and candle light. They reached their seats, and Browan pulled Veria's chair out for her, and kissed her hand one more time before he went to his own seat.
Within moments, a string of cooks and servants brought dish after dish of delicious fare to the table and placed it between them: a platter of blackened fish covered in a thick, aromatic cream sauce, another platter of several roasted guinea hens with roasted root vegetables, a caro and braiberry salad with goat cheese and tree nuts tossed in a beardclove oil dressing, an entire coacoa cake decorated with some fruit that Veria had never seen, a whole plate of sweet root custard tarts, a crunchy loaf of bread, and a basket of soft herb rolls.
Veria giggled when the food was all out and the servants were pouring her and Browan glasses of wine. “Who is going to eat all this food?”
“We don't have to finish it!” he chuckled. “All the left over meat and vegetables will go to the hunting dogs. And I let the servants or the guards take turns on the cakes—I never eat them. Custard and tarts on the other hand...”
He grabbed two tarts off the tray and added them to his plate.
“Desserts first?” Veria teased, raising her brows at him.
“If it's custard, always,” he said with a mischievous grin.
She laughed as one of the servants carved her hen meat and placed it on her plate, then served her a helping of everything available. The food was incredible, spiced and seasoned perfectly, but rich enough that the only thing she could clear her plate of was the caro salad, as it was chilled and refreshingly tangy and crisp.
“My mother would die for this cream recipe,” Veria said, pointing at the fish with her fork after she had eaten what felt like her fill.
“Well, I think my head cook would die before giving it away,” Browan laughed. “It's one of her secrets.”
“Oh, I'm sure I could get it out of her,” Veria said.
“I am sure you could, too,” Browan chuckled with a nod.
“I couldn't even think of dessert right now,” Veria said with a groan.
“That is why I had mine first,” Browan said.
“Good thinking,” Veria smiled.
“We can take our wine to my library,” Browan suggested. “Maybe even the tarts if you think you will be hungry later. There are too many ears in this part of the castle. Not a place for private discussion.”
Veria nodded. “That sounds fine,” she agreed, though she had to admit she had completely forgotten she was there to discuss the investigation.
Browan raised his hand above him, and a servant rushed over to him, leaning toward Browan to hear his instructions. Then Browan stood and rounded the table to pull Veria's chair out for her, and reached a hand out to help her stand.
They made their way out of the dining room, and upstairs to Browan's library, a large room lined with floor to ceiling book shelves, filled with various desks and cabinets and red velvet chairs. Within a moment of them getting settled in two plush chairs at a small desk, the tray of custard tarts and a fresh bottle of wine with fresh glasses were brought in to them.
Browan poured them each a glass himself, after dismissing the servant and telling him it was the staff's turn to eat the coacoa cake.
“So, where do we begin?” he said once the servant was gone.
Veria didn't want to begin. She wanted to continue to be friendly, to laugh and joke, to exchange the silent moments where they both just took each other in...she did not want to talk about her father's death, or any of the circumstances surrounding it.
As if reading her mind in her hesitation, Browan lowered his voice and said, “Or we can just enjoy each other's company.”
“And plan another day to start our discussion?” Veria grinned conspiratorially.
“Of course,” Browan returned the grin.
“I could go for another game of Tactics,” Veria said softly.
The Twin Dragons: Book III in the Elementals Series Page 2
