The “feast” the boy had referred to was clearly haphazardly put together. Nothing like the feasts of his brothers in the same room, but he didn’t seem to mind. Perhaps, he did not even notice, or perhaps his skin was as thick as his intensity, and he simply did not care.

  “Take the veil off,” he said, reaching toward her face. “No one is looking at you.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” She said.

  “What doesn’t matter is if they see your face or not?” He said.

  “Maybe not to you.”

  “Do you wear that all day across the sea?”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “Why can’t you answer any questions?” He shoved a fish tail into his mouth. He showed no care for utensils or any other form of simple manners. He did, at the very least, show more interest in talking than fighting with my daughter, which is more than could be said for their last two meetings.

  “Because I’m trying to eat.” She huffed, but she was struggling with the manner of utensils in this place. Her small hands simply didn’t have the dexterity to manage picking up her food with two small sticks in the proper manner.

  “You’re not doing a very good job.” He said bluntly.

  “That’s because you use strange things to eat with here,” she said. “I don’t know how to–”

  “Then don’t.” He picked up one of the foods consisting of rice with his hand, pulled up her veil, and pushed it in her mouth.

  Ai reacted before I did, swatting at his head despite how improper it was.

  “That’s enough.” I reached across the table, pulling his hands from her. “Keep your hands to yourself.”

  “You make her eat with that stupid thing?” He asked, not ignoring my command, but not being bothered by it. He had no fear of anything.

  “No.” I said.

  “You don’t have to wear it.” He said.

  She took it off, but didn’t look at him, clearly upset he had found a way to take it off that she didn’t. Oh how much simpler she’d find things if she only asked. She was going to be too noble, I could already tell. Though that was exactly what our kingdom needed. Her brothers would make up for its disadvantages.

  “You don’t have to use those things either.” He said, looking at her more than the food. Or rather, her difficulty with the utensils.

  “It would be improper not to use them.” She said.

  “You said that about the swords.”

  “Oh, be quiet.”

  “You said that about the swords.” He said again.

  She laughed. “I said stop it. Or I’ll have to beat you again.”

  “Eh? You didn’t beat me?” He smiled, teeth catching the firelight. Quite sharp. “You could barely hold a sword.”

  “I still hit you.”

  He cackled. His laugh was as abrasive as he was, loud and unbridled. Rare, by the looks of things. The eyes of those at the other tables made it a point not to stare, or at least not to be caught doing so, but none tried to feign disinterest in this, except for perhaps, the Emperor himself. Though for him, I doubted much was feigned. Even his attendant, the boy who stood beside him at all times and addressed as more as a friend than hired helper, seemed surprised.

  “Not very proper, huh?”

  “Oh stop.” She waved him away, but the smile never left her face.

  It was funny, the simplicity of childhood. Even among the poisonous air of a palace, it still existed. The ability to do almost anything, to get over most anything, and still smile at most anyone. To befriend and make amends after words or violence. It was a precious thing, no matter how little it belonged here. Even if I seemed the only one in this place who could acknowledge it.

  “You’re going to starve if you keep being proper.”

  “I will not.” She argued, prideful as ever. “I’ll figure it out eventually.”

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  “What’s eventually mean?” He turned to the boy beside him.

  “It means in a matter of time.” He said, removing the emotion from his face in a way more befitting a noble than a servant trained to be silent.

  “How much time?”

  “However long it takes.”

  “That’ll take too long.” He turned back to my daughter, picking up the utensils with such ease his choice to use his hands seemed even less reasonable. He picked up another fish meal, nare-zushi, fermented and sour, and held it in front of her face. She stared at it, glancing at me, but I gave her no answers. If I were to get any answers as to her unpredictable behaviour, I would have to observe what it is she wanted to do. “Are you going to eat it?”

  She opened her mouth and took it, face scrunching immediately.

  He laughed. “I didn’t know women could make such ugly faces!”

  “It’s not ugly!” She said. “I just don’t like the food.”

  “Huh? What do you mean? Is it killing you?”

  “No. It just doesn’t taste good.”

  “Taste good?” He repeated.

  “Goodness, do you not have preferences?” She asked.

  “Food is food.” He shrugged his shoulders in a manner not befitting his status, but befitting his person.

  “You ought to have things you prefer over another.” She said.

  “What is the black on your eyes for?” His lack of any decorum, as improper as it was, made him easy to read in the least. There would be no deception from him. He hardly seemed capable of it.

  “It’s kohl. It keeps the sun out of our eyes. They do it in the land my people hail from.” She said.

  “What do your eyes look like without it?”

  “Not like yours,” she said. “Yours are so small. How well can you see?”

  I sighed internally. This was not the diplomatic way to speak of differences of appearance. She had grown accustomed to not mentioning the differing ways those with paler skin and hair looked, but being surrounded by so many people that looked as Ai and Aiko was clearly not something she could keep quiet about.

  “I SEE JUST FINE! YOUR EYES ARE JUST BIG!”

  “They’re of perfectly normal size.” She huffed.

  “THERE’S NOTHING NORMAL ABOUT YOU.”

  “I could say the same of you.”

  “No you can’t!” He folded his arms. “Everyone looks like me.”

  “I suppose that’s true,” she said, looking around at faces that indeed, did seem quite familiar. The foreign features seeming to all be the same. “What’s that part of your hair beaded for?”

  “It’s a tradition.” He said.

  None of his brothers carried such a styling. Nor anyone else in this palace, aside from the boy behind him.

  Their conversation continued, not staying on any one topic particularly long, no matter how hard my daughter tried to keep it going in a steady direction. His questions regarding anything about our lands or culture were asked in the most crude way possible, and he interrupted her answer by forcing other foods in her mouth until he found one she didn’t get upset about.

  “I didn’t plan on picking anyone today, so I don’t have a gift ready for you.” He said.

  “Just find something nice and small.” She said graciously.

  The boy bent down, whispering something in his ear.

  “She isn’t going to want that.”

  “I might.” She smiled.

  He rolled his eyes. “Well you asked for it.”

  Something like this would be impossible among the adults, even older children, and yet by the end, despite all the times they bickered, they left on well enough terms.

  The next day we took our leave, agreeing to continue discussions. I saw little need to question Nefret before we took to sea. At the very least, this boy did not wish her any undue ill will. He was a boy that lacked any kind of maturity, but he was a boy. I did not like him, but he was no worse than any other option. That did not mean I found him acceptable for my daughter. Still, I did not have the heart to ruin what could become a valuable asset to her in the future.

  We were sent off with gifts. I hadn’t expected much from the boy, but he had gathered quite the tasteful selection. The silk woven from silkworms filled a sizable chest and he sent if off along with other things of clear value.

  He bowed deeply. “Travel safely and return to me.”

  It was quite rehearsed, but he could manage it. I bowed. “Be well and live long, until our next.”

  Despite what could be said about him, I did hope, at the very least, he would live long, regardless of the odds.

  “I wish you well.” Nefret bowed, and then I took her hand, taking her back to the ship. It didn’t take long for us to leave port. She took of her veil, staring off at the shrinking lands, long after they disappeared.

  “Father,” she broke the silence before I did.

  “Yes dear?”

  “May I get a sword teacher when we return?”

  Children… they were truly something.