The following day’s activities wouldn’t allow even a moment of contemplation for me to dwell on yesterday’s occurrences. I was immediately thrust back into many of the duties I had been exempt from during my wife’s pregnancy, as if my brother’s counselors had been explicitly waiting for me to return from my estate, to surprise me with the vast selection of new busywork.

  But before I could be roped back into politicking, I was summoned to a morning meeting that I simply couldn’t miss: the breakfast banquet, which had been thoroughly planned by my sisters to demonstrate their new aptitude for partygoing. From an outside lens, serving for a banquet attended by just about all of the nation’s royalty would’ve stood as a bragging right even thirty years into the future. And indeed, it was as grandiose as such an event was due— if not a little lacking in spirit.

  That was of no fault of theirs, of course, but primarily Sianto’s. My wife and I were supposed to be the second to last to appear, as we were the guests of honor for this reception, but Sianto’s failure to attend his own family’s first reunion meal in decades was a shameful stain on his image.

  Multiple maids had been sent out to search for him, so most of the guests quietly waited around near the breakfast tables, waiting for him to arrive and commence the feast. None was meant to take the first bite, unless the host had officially permitted them to do so.

  I prompted Stephania, who had been living as the lady of the palace since Sianto ascended, to start the party in his place.

  She, in return, demanded I do the same. Neither of us wished to be the culprit to possibly be accused of breaking the rules.

  As the minutes stretched into eternity, the collective growls of the attendees’ stomachs reverberated through the air, growing louder and more insistent, until the sound became a deafening crescendo. The echo of dissatisfied murmurs and accusatory glares shot from man to man, as if silently willing the king to manifest himself before they withered away from starvation. My wife, who had been staring wistfully at a plate of tarts all the while, eventually joined Stephania in silently pleading for me to begin the festivities in my brother’s place. The pit of hunger in my stomach, being taunted by the long tables of excellent food that stretched before me, gave in to the women's wishes before my mind could.

  The guests had slowly stepped away from the tables positioned around the ends of the ballroom and had become a large crowd in the center of the floor, as if avoiding the sight of the feast before them would somehow sate their hungry cravings.

  I advanced on the feast, motioning for my wife and Stephania to follow me, and handed each a goblet. The pop of the cork, from the opening of a wine bottle, echoed through the large room, silencing the mournful conversations and summoning the attention of any man or woman still responsive enough to notice.

  I particularly caught the notice of my sisters, who had been ardently eyeing the same wine I now poured into Stephania’s glass. And after motioning for a servant to fetch my wife some water, I served myself a portion as well.

  I needed not say anything, but with a raise of my glass to the crowd before taking a sip, and a pleased nod to boot, the stylishly adorned crowd rushed to follow, ravaging the table like a pack of hounds feasting on their first fresh kill in months. It was no later than lunchtime when Sianto finally arrived at the banquet, merging naturally into the scene, as if he hadn’t been tardy to his own event for the entirety of the morning. Michal had arrived only shortly after my brother, clad in a radiant yellow ball gown and a netted veil that held back her hair.

  Much like my own wife did for me, she stayed by Sianto’s side, pitching in every now and then when the conversation swung around to something she knew about. The only time she seemed to detach from her husband’s arm was when he approached me.

  Sianto had quite a bit to say, for a man I’d seen on such a regular basis. He was quite enthused to finally have an excuse to discuss something other than work, although the occasional state affair did sneak its way into the topic. In confiding in me, he also invited the other noblemen to bother me about such matters as well, thus the conversation between brothers eventually strayed into the selfsame council debate it so often became, now with the additional pitches of every high society relative who found himself crossing our path.

  Large groups such as these had always been a test for Sianto’s regality. While he was trained for such public displays, when all these men with such differing opinions spoke over and around him, one could start to see the signs of his annoyance prickling at the side of his face and swimming itself through his speech. He would breathe slightly louder—though only slightly—and speak in much smaller sentences, enunciating each word, as a man often does when speaking to a child. He handled situations like council meetings much better, I found. Places where each person knew exactly who they were talking to, and spoke when it was their turn. That is to say, Sianto was no debater. He was a king, through and through. Had I said such a thing to his face, though, he would quickly debate me on that, though I am probably the only man who could dare say such a thing to him.

  At one point during the banquet, he stood at the head of the room and called attention to the room. Though it took a moment, the murmurs and arguments eventually simmered down into a calm silence. Sianto beckoned for me, my wife, and Stephania to step forward with him, and as we obliged and made our way to his side, I could see his expression of contentment. His eyes scanned the room of people looking up to him, and waiting for him to start speaking, and hanging on his every word when he finally did, as one does when in the company of royalty. And though he was not particularly religious, he also recognized the holiness of the space he occupied, and partook, too, in the superstition that followed his station. That is, the right to be a saint, simply for being born. The king’s right.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  He had a very graceful stance as he waited, one that was subtle but powerful, as an undeniable pull to his character. My brother has never needed to demand or call for attention—one was simply drawn to listen when around him. It was the sort of charisma desperately sought out by every storyteller and madman alike.

  And yet, unbeknownst to these followers, his reality was in truth more like a cowherd standing before his drove, waiting for his animals to follow him with the ringing of a bell and sirenlike calls. Though he wept over his knowledge of their inevitable doom, he led them to it, still.

  Sianto had fooled me then, too. I was, like any other man, a calf among the herd, trained to answer to the same calls that my comrades did around me. I drank of my brother’s poison, despite seeing him brew it myself, yet still believed it to be the tender wine he claimed it was. It was only when one is sober that one can recognize drunkards, for when one is intoxicated, he can see no evil.

  Though I did not realize that at the time, all men are but livestock to a man like Sianto. Every gesture he made was a way for him to show his heightened state: the upwards tilt of his head, which was just high enough that others had to look up to meet his eyes; or the slowness of his movements, being a carefree relaxation that only he could afford; or the tone of his voice, formal but judgemental, as the only person who did not have to carefully think through every word he said. He was untouchable and unshakeable, as every word he spoke or movement he made proved to everyone, subconsciously or intentionally. He stood there, like a statue of a god, and I, the poor scholarly pilgrim, come to ogle at his visage and spread his legacy with my peers.

  I do not believe I resented him as a man would another man. Nay, I saw him as an atheist or zealot would a god or idol. He was something untrue, to me, an implausible icon who had proved all I believed and knew to be false. His existence invalidated my own, rendering me a fool.

  I believe I had always known this, though back then, I denied it in such a fitting way that it was only natural I became as I am now. And as Sysiphus rolls the boulder up the hill, it is only once he reaches the top that he remembers it must then come down.

  As the banquet concluded, a final toast was raised in honor of Stephania for hosting the party in the queen’s absence. Michal had not been married to Sianto when the preparations had begun, as the two had a small, private wedding in the month between. Even I was not invited to the ceremony, out of consideration for “my own estate,” as Sianto had put it. The irony that my family was invited now, but not for such a historical occasion, I was remiss in not pointing out.

  It was generally known that, in the weeks following their marriage, Sianto and Michal had been as doting a couple as could be. The two were rarely seen apart and could be spotted making rounds across the palace gardens, practically skipping at being able to see one another again. It was hard not to admire their love for one another, though it stung to do so. Few others had qualms about hearing such good news, though, and many elevated their relationship to be the most perfect of marriages in history. This seemed dramatic to those who knew them personally—after all, they had hardly been married a fortnight when the reunion had begun.

  I may also be exaggerating, though, as my own marriage was nothing so special to be noticed by the common folk. The duchess and I often went about our duties as expected, and though she had become a good friend to me, drowning her in affection would’ve often been quite bold for those in arranged marriages to do. My brother was perhaps trying to change that, it seems. Singlehandedly.

  I am ashamed to admit, it bothered me.

  One evening, following the welcoming banquet, though still during the reunion, I had been escorting my wife across the palace grounds to introduce her to the area. We stumbled across one of the larger gazebos in the area, and within, there was a rather moderately sized tea party being hosted by my sister. Of my seven sisters, at this point, three had been married, and two were engaged. And of my cousins, all of the men and women had been married on my father’s side. In attendance at this party were all of my sisters, my paternal female cousins, and my cousin’s wives. The only woman missing in this strange gathering was my wife, who had not yet noticed the congregation before us, and was preoccupied with a stray cat that hid behind a bush beside us.

  I feared for this to worry her, and thus had her wait upon a nearby bench while I planned to interrogate the women. Shameful as it may be, to barge in on their conversation, I was ready to do so for my lady’s honor. That is, I would've, had their conversation not so quickly caught my attention before I could catch theirs. At the head of the table, and discussing her routine of late, there sat the queen herself.

  “You speak in truth?” One of the younger ladies asked her, leaning in. “Is Sianto truly so charming? He had never appeared so to me.” Though I could not see her, I assumed Michal had nodded her head in response, for the next time I heard her speak, it was to answer a different question. “He has promised my father to repay my dowry… he claims my hand is payment enough!” A few women squealed excitedly, while one clapped her hands in youthful excitement.

  I listened in for only a small while before returning to my wife’s side. She had been waiting patiently for me, holding up her dress so it did not lie on the dirty path as she sat. Her train was now bundled up, in a small ball across her lap, pulling up the sides of her dress to hug her calves by doing so. When I took her hand, she stood up, and it came sweeping back over elegantly to cover her legs once again. Despite her efforts, an ant now grazed across the lace trim, so I bent to sweep it off, back into the grime from whence it came.

  When I kneeled to stand back up again, I saw her face flash from looking down at me to looking forward, while an obvious smile pulled at her cheeks. Her hair was mostly down today, and curled slightly upwards at her mid back, just enough to move with a twitch in her shoulders. She was very lovely, and I ensured to tell her so as I led her back in the other direction. She did not need to see what she was being excluded from, nor did I wish to see the look on her face if she ever was to find out.

  While we retraced our path back into the palace, we encountered Sianto and his procession, likely on his way to collect his wife. I am sure he knew, too, of this event, and simply did not tell us. I could do no more than bite my tongue and bow as he passed, though. That was all I could ever do, now.