style="font-size:15px;"> “Which gallery is it?” Lilophea was worried. “There are many in the palace.”
“That one is overlooking the sea. There’s only one. All the others face the gardens or the inner courtyards.”
“Thank you for telling me now. You could have waited another hour for him to leave.”
“He won’t,” said Seneschal defiantly. “The boy is very much in love with you. I’m even beginning to respect you, seeing how cleverly you keep young men on the hook.”
“Stop talking!”
“He not only thanked me, he even bowed to me to thank me for delivering your letter to him,” said Seneschal.
Let him talk, Lilophea decided. As long as he keeps his beak shut in front of Morrin. After all, it is from him she can ask about all the secrets of the sea and whether or not there really are unusual creatures living underwater. Morrin spends so much time swimming that he must surely know about them.
Danger from the Sea
A coral necklace was scarlet on the edge of a large marble amphora, from which water flowed in a fountain. Who had left it here? Was it one of the ladies of the court? Lilophea was so insatiably tempted to take it for herself that she couldn’t help herself. The coral felt good on her fingers. It felt as if they had just been taken out of the water. Not surprising, considering that there was a fountain flowing nearby. There were many in the palace, both in the garden and in the corridors, one even in the throne room. It was because of the heat. In a large island nation, surrounded on all sides by the sea, it is perpetually hot. The ambassadors called it a paradisiacal climate, but many locals disagreed with that definition. Yes, there were plenty of palm trees, fruit, and warm lakes to bathe in, but for the sake of grain and cloth, it was necessary to conduct lively trade with overseas powers. Often this was not entirely convenient, and the heat exhausted the inhabitants. A quarter of the treasury was spent on the fountains that were set up in all the streets. The capital even began to be called the City of Fountains after them. Most of them, though, were in the king’s park and palace. Round, cone-shaped, oval, large and small, in the shape of shells, amphorae and spheres, or with sculptures of nymphs pouring water – in general all shapes, kinds and sizes.
Her father recently hinted at the council that he had created so many water portals to his country for nothing. How can a fountain be called a portal? Lilothea knew nothing of politics, so her father’s speeches often seemed rather strange to her. One thing she did know, she’d seen enough of the fountains to know that no one had ever forgotten the necklaces on them.
“Put it back!” The seneschal was already flying after her like an annoying duenna. “You can’t touch things that someone has forgotten.”
“It was just left here for all comers.”
“Dream on, princess!”
“Well, anything can happen,” Lilophea went through the beads like a rosary. The orange and red corals came in all shapes and sizes, just like the fountains in Aquilania.
“Drop it!” The peacock was clearly nervous. “If someone left things behind on purpose, it might be for witchcraft purposes.”
“I don’t believe in witchcraft,” she said, and was instantly struck down as she recalled the marvelous dream of the unearthly creature playing by the waterfall.
“I’m waiting for you… at the bottom of the sea,” his voice echoed in the murmuring of the water. Did the peacock hear it?
The seneschal grudgingly turned his nose up at the fountains and flapped his wings very aggressively.
“When things are thrown about like that, provided they are not old and unwanted, they want to do bad things,” he explained businesslike. “I wonder if you have a rival at Court who went to the witch doctor and told her to put on the necklace and make you ugly by wearing it.”
“And how did she know that I would walk down this corridor without someone else taking the necklace before me?”
“A fool would know. Your father’s office is next door. Only those closest to him go in here.”
“You can’t take a joke.”
“But your rivals, knowing your passion for shiny things, know what to lure you to.”
“One of them would like to go to the harem instead of me,” she joked again.
“What if they do?” The peacock replied seriously.
“They say there’s enough room in harems for everyone.”
“But there is competition there, too.”
“You’ll tell me later,” Lilophea wished she could cover his beak with her fingers. The peacock was flying too high under the arabesques of the ceiling and crackling about very unpleasant things.
“Don’t start talking about the harem and life in it again if you want to remain my friend,” she asked. Then the peacock understood and nodded. There, even he can be negotiated with. One has only to beat for pity.
“It’s a pity that Aquilania is so dependent on sea trade that my father will eventually have to give me in marriage to someone from the partner states. All the kings are already married, there’s only a chance of ending up in the sultan’s harem.”
“There are still kings of the sea, they’re not married.” The peacock didn’t say that. Lilothea looked around. There seemed to be someone hiding in the fountain. She spotted someone’s head behind the marble curb. It looked like a child who had decided to go for a ride and bathe in the wrong place. He had green hair on his head, too, so his actual color was impossible to see.
“Hey!” the princess called out to the prankster, but he only chuckled in response. Or was it a splash of water? She couldn’t tell if it was the child’s head or the shiny, scaly fishtail, which swung up and disappeared.
“They are cheeky creatures!” The peacock barked.
“Who are they?”
“They are sea creatures!”
“Don’t worry about them,” Lilophea gripped the coral in her hand. “It’s a fountain, not the sea. Learn to understand the difference.”
The peacock wanted to mutter something angry in return, but Lilophea sped forward down the corridor. She lingered at the door to the king’s study. There were no guards standing here with halberds. This was most unusual. Concerned voices came from within. The princess was tempted and put her ear to the door.
“What are you doing? The princess should not behave like a spy,” the peacock murmured concernedly over her head, but he himself also listened warily to the sounds of conversation.
The king was speaking to his advisors. Lilothea could distinguish them by their voices. Some had a bass, some a baritone, others pleasant tenors. By the coloring of their voices even a blind man could guess who was involved in the conversation.
“Things got too bad! It is all because of them!” complained the bass of the
