The Claimed: A Clash of Copper and Gold

Chapter 3: Serving Ceremony

Stro and a guard named Yuri escorted my father and me to the palace that night. The guards stopped beside a marble pillar, and my father and I climbed the gold steps unaccompanied.

After one knock, the door swung open.

The man who greeted us shared Makash's enormous frame, but his dark eyes twinkled, and lines creased his forehead. He wore a knee-length black frock. Gold lace weaved across the slits from his elbows to wrists and hips to knees. His gold-plated shoes swept up to a point.

Standing a few inches shorter than him in a red corduroy vest with copper buttons and pleated trousers matching my own, my father looked more like his butler than his king.

"Makari—excuse me, Chief Makari," said my father. "I was sorry to hear of your father's passing. I apologize that we could not attend Chief Makandi's funeral."

The chief lowered his head. "No apologies required, King Karoo. His time had long expired. However, we are honored to have you join us this evening. Please come in, Your Majesty."

My father darted a glance at Stro and Yuri before squaring his shoulders and stepping through the doorway.

Makari's gaze dipped to me as I followed my father inside, and his smile broadened, displaying straight white teeth. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Your Highness. I have heard so much about you. You really do have your mother's eyes, don't you?"

I studied his pointed shoes and gripped my hands together. "Uh, thank—I mean, it's a pleasure—"

Makari chuckled and swept a hand down the corridor. "Allow me to escort you to the dining hall."

The polished marble floor glimmered in the light of chandeliers above. Gold statues of Goddess Rashika lined the hallway, with conical breasts and helmet.

We passed through a broad archway entrance into a spacious dining room. A marble table with intricately-carved legs stretched down the middle. In the only occupied chair, a boy in a gray frock stared at his plate.

"Hello, Niako," I said.

His head dipped even lower, and he tugged at the gold lace crisscrossing up his sleeve.

"So you two have met," said Makari. "How wonderful. Your Highness, why don't you take the chair next to Niako?"

I stepped toward the chair on Niako's right and perched on the edge of the plush cushion. My father seated himself on my right. To his right, Makari claimed the seat at the head of the table.

"Where is everyone else?" I asked.

"They are finishing up the first portion of the Serving Ceremony, Your Highness," said Makari. "Would you like to see?"

"What is the—" Niako shook his head at me, and I changed my question. "What is for dinner?"

"Nothing fancy, I'm afraid," said Makari. "Traditional fare for the Serving Ceremony is finger food. Tonight we are having fish fry, bread rolls, and rosemary potatoes."

"Fish fry is Toom's favorite," said my father.

My stomach rumbled in agreement, and Makari chuckled. "Happy to hear it. Some say Rakim Lands has the best fish fry in all of Najila. I do hope you will find it satisfactory."

"He will." My father looked at me as he said it, making the words a command as much as a promise. Then he leaned past me to nod at Niako. "Hello, Niako. It's nice to meet you."

Niako traced a finger over the gold rim of his plate.

Makari cleared his throat. "Son, please say hello to His Majesty, King Karoo."