When the food was brought and they were offered a reprieve, they were seated at the King’s table. Charles was there too. He had declined the invitation, because of other engagements, then he accepted it, saying he will cancel all his other plans. Refusing two days later on grounds of illness, he had changed his mind again, the day of the event. At which he arrived late, already drunk.

He was now continuing his descent into the white wines of the King’s cellar, seated next to Claudia. His gaze went around the table, and even Henrik was avoiding it, hoping he would not be the one selected to bear his brother’s questions. The King was drunk too, but not in the mean way he liked to get, with loud words that whipped. He was more solemn, and in the middle of the already solemn, under-attended event, he looked like his father used to look, before he used his trusted sword on someone.

Amaya's frown was caused by her plan not advancing. None of the members of the Council was present, and the noble Ladies who were, were already loyal to her. So she had to smile continuously, to show her appreciation.

“It's a shame the Archbishop couldn't be here, but I believe he has already congratulated you once on your upcoming nuptials,” Charles interrupted her reverie, by settling on her.

“I think I can convince him to come to the wedding,” Henrik generously offered, to no one. “At least his wife can attend, and present an acceptable excuse for him.”

Mathias brought himself closer to the table. He had been sitting back in his chair, enjoying the silence. Amaya was next to him, both facing Charles and Claudia, who looked like she wanted nothing more than to escape through the floor. She was so beautiful that Amaya constantly worried about leaving her, for even a second, in the company of Henrik. Even though she made sure to put Charles between them, she still worried that her friend’s bright smile, designed to help maintain a lighter atmosphere, and her autumn depicting dress, were putting her in danger.

“Perhaps the daughter will be more eager,” Charles said, his eyes made into sapphire blades that the wine helped keep sharp.

“The Beauregards are not invited to our wedding,” Mathias tried to close the subject.

“Yes, they are,” Amaya reacted, before she could stop herself. Already the brothers were looking at her as if she was talking out of turn.

“They are not,” Mathias underlined. Charles and Henrik were turning from one to the other, waiting to see what happens. Claudia’s eyes - digging into her, signalling distress.

But Amaya would not be cautious. “If they choose not to come, it's their prerogative, but I -”

She felt his hand on the side of her dress, under the table, and stopped, shocked. He had never touched her before. It was clear to everyone else that he was trying to stop her from speaking.

Then, because they were all looking at her, waiting, Amaya closed her mouth and sat down, without further explanation. It was their deal that, in public, he won. Her arguments were to be brought up in private. She took her fork and looked into her plate.

Impressed, Henrik poured himself another drink.