From where I sat, I could see little, and hear even less. I felt Verity’s churning frustration at the situation, but there was nothing I could do about it. The King looked more weary than dazed that evening, which I took to be positive. Kettricken, seated beside him, was near colorless save for two spots of pink on her cheeks. She did not seem to be eating much, and seemed graver and more silent than usual. Prince Regal, in contrast, was both social and merry. With Duke Ram and Lady Placid and their boys. He did not quite ignore Brawndy and his daughters, but his merriment clearly grated on the visitors’ mood.
Duke Brawndy was a large man, and well muscled even in his old age. Shocks of white hair in his black warrior’s tail attested to old battle injuries, as did a hand missing a few fingers. His daughters sat just downtable from him, indigo-eyed women whose high cheekbones told of his late queen’s Near Island ancestry. Faith and Celerity wore their hair cut short and sleek in the northern style. The quick ways they turned their heads to observe everyone at the table reminded me of hawks on a wrist. These were not the gentled nobility of the Inland Duchies that Regal was used to dealing with. Of all the Six Duchies, the folk of Bearns came closest to being warriors still.
Regal was courting disaster to make light of their grievances. I knew they would not expect to discuss Raiders at the table, but his festive tone was completely at odds with their mission here. I wondered if he knew how badly he offended them. Kettricken obviously did. More than once I saw her clench her jaw, or cast her eyes downward at one of Regal’s witticisms. He was drinking too heavily as well, and it began to show in his extravagant hand gestures, and the loudness of his laughter. I wished desperately I could hear what he was finding so humorous in his own words. ,