A Forest of Stars - Kevin J. Anderson [146]
Wearing a false smile, Basil Wenceslas came forward to whisper, “We can’t find Estarra. She’s late.” Though his face continued to show calm confidence, his words carried a faint criticism, as if he somehow blamed the King for Estarra’s tardiness.
Peter acknowledged the Chairman with a tiny nod and walked to his formal chair at the head of the table. “My guest has been detained for the moment, but we’ve all become accustomed to unforeseen delays by now.” He knew not to let them suspect anything was out of the ordinary. Basil never wanted to hint that any situation was out of control, not for a moment. “Please take your seats. I’m sure we have enough appetizers to feed a small colony planet.”
Dutiful chuckles rippled around the table. Peter didn’t know whether he should be concerned or secretly pleased that Estarra was missing. He hoped she had found something enjoyable to do. Wherever she was, he would rather have been with her instead of here.
“I suggest we begin with the first course. As it is, the chefs will no doubt keep us here past midnight so that we can sample every delicacy concocted by their wildest imaginations.”
Before the salad was finished, two escort guards hurried a flustered Estarra into the banquet hall. Peter immediately stood, and the others at the banquet table struggled to get to their feet as quickly as possible. Though her garments were lovely and exotic with a Theron flair, she appeared to have been hastily dressed.
“I was just exploring.” Estarra’s tan face looked childlike and frightened. “I lost track of time. I didn’t mean to be delayed, but the WhisperPalace is so…huge!”
Basil took the young woman’s arm. “Let me take you to your seat, my dear.” Eyebrows knitted, he scolded her under his breath.
Obviously chastened, Estarra took her seat, and OX stood between them. Peter leaned over, speaking quietly enough to foil any listeners. “Don’t worry about it. Basil is so obsessed with schedules that he even perspires according to a timetable.”
She didn’t look at him at first, but then gave him a dark-eyed glance that showed her relief. “Thanks.”
As the attendees greeted each course with delight, Peter felt Estarra’s strained silence. What did she think of him? He’d accepted the fact that he was going to marry her, but still he wanted to know who she was. He looked at her, trying to decide. Was Estarra funny or morose? Gregarious or solitary? Did she fear him? Resent him? Expect to manipulate him?
None of the dull chitchat or polite laughter interested him. Estarra remained troubled by the overreaction to her wandering around the Palace. On Theroc, she was accustomed to going where she wanted, and it surprised her that her everyday freedoms had been so embarrassingly curtailed. She continued to eat, making only brief responses to any questions asked of her.
Peter dutifully raised his goblet as one of the guests offered yet another toast to the King and his magnificent works—it was the fourth such toast since the commencement of the meal, and they hadn’t even reached the main course yet. He tried to catch Estarra’s eye. Peter wished he could make her understand that he didn’t like their situation any more than she did.
Basil used an iron grip to control Peter’s every action, and now he was treating Estarra the same way. If she learned to cooperate on the surface, they could both retain a shred of identity despite numerous compromises. But Basil seemed reluctant to let Peter speak openly with the woman who would be his wife. The Chairman didn’t like unstructured meetings, even personal ones.
“How am I supposed to get to know her, then?” Peter had once asked in Basil’s private office. “If we’re going to make a perfectly wonderful couple for all the public to see, shouldn’t I at least know her?”
Basil had scowled. “Not necessary, Peter. You’re adding complications to a situation that I already have well in hand. You will have time enough for that later.”
Now, though, with Estarra only a meter away,