Arshalous stifled the scowl that struggled to her face when her cousin plopped, frowning like a toddler, into the seat opposite her. He, clearly, was not happy about the seating arrangements either. She saw her aunt lean over and whisper something into Korak's ear -- she yet again cursed the noise that hid the voice from her ears -- though she could have sworn that she heard the word "daughter." With a last sigh Korak's frown disappeared and he plastered a false smile on his face.
Arshalous leaned across the table, smirking. "Lies ill become you, Cousin Korak."
The aunt sighed and hid her eyes in her hand.
"Of course," Arshalous said, tilting her head upwards, brow raised, and finger poised on her chin, "I couldn't possibly tell you how the truth becomes you for the truth is not part of your wardrobe." She leaned back in her chair, gazing with some satisfaction through half closed eyes.
Korak glared at her but struggled to keep his calm demeanor.
Arshalous, about to taunt him further, stopped as she heard a flurry of whisperings around her.
He said that Siamak should become king! The Emissary said that the Prince should become King!.
A smile fluttered across her lips as she gazed once more at the Emissary. His wavy dark hair hid his face as he politely bowed to the Princess. A smirk poisoned the smile -- the Princess surely would not be happy with the Emissary's sentiments.
She wondered why the Emissary thought that the Prince should be king. Was it because he was keen in perception and knew him to be the better child? Or was it a tradition in the West that declared that the throne passed to the son? Of course it must be the latter, yet she hoped that a bit of the former played into his statement.
Turning back to her cousin, who was a bit pale, she said, "At least this Emissary has some sort of sense."
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