I’ve never been to a royal banquet before, but I’m pretty sure they’re not supposed to involve this much staring. The dining hall stretches before us like something out of a fantasy movie, a massive table that could probably seat fifty people, with crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Servants in white tunics weave between guests, carrying silver platters piled with food that almost looks too beautiful to eat.
“Just act natural,” Brooke whispers as we take our seats at the center of the table.
“Right,” I mutter, trying not to fidget with my ceremonial robes. “Act natural. In a castle. In another world. At a banquet with actual royalty. No problem.”
Brooke gives me that look, the one that says she’s both amused and slightly exasperated by my anxiety. She reaches under the table and squeezes my hand, her fingers warm against mine. “You’re doing great.”
Morgana slides into the seat beside me, her dark robes pooling around her like spilled ink.
“Enjoying the festivities?” she asks, her purple eyes gleaming in the candlelight.
“It’s... a lot,” I admit, gesturing vaguely at the opulent surroundings.
Further up the table, Queen Olyndra sits at the head, deep in conversation with several other regal-looking women. Their voices are too low to hear, but I catch fragments of serious-sounding words like “demon queen” and “blood eclipse.” Not exactly dinner conversation back home.
A servant places a crystal goblet in front of me, filled with something that sparkles like liquid gold. I take a cautious sip and nearly choke, it’s sweet but with an alcohol kick that burns pleasantly down my throat.
“Easy there,” Brooke says with a laugh. “That could be the equivalent of medieval moonshine.”
I set the cup down, feeling my cheeks warm. “Noted.”
Two women seated directly across from us catch my eye. One has striking auburn hair pulled into an elaborate braided crown, her green eyes sharp and assessing. The other is older, with silver-streaked black hair and a face lined with the kind of wisdom that comes from ruling for decades.
The auburn-haired woman raises her goblet in our direction. “I am Queen Lyra of Solenor,” she announces, her voice carrying that regal tone I’m starting to recognize. “It is an honor to meet the heroes who will save our world.”
“Thank you,” I say, feeling awkward. “I’m Christopher. This is Brooke.”
The silver-haired woman beside her nods, she seems to be a bit drunk. “And I am Empress Valentina of Everdale. The pleasure is entirely ours.”
“Christopher and I are together,” Brooke says suddenly, her voice cutting through the polite conversation.
Morgana lets out a sharp laugh, the sound echoing off the vaulted ceiling. Her purple eyes dance with amusement as she takes a sip from her goblet.
Queen Lyra’s eyebrows shoot up, her green eyes widening in surprise. “Oh... oh my...” she says, her regal composure faltering for just a moment.
“Is it a problem if we’re dating?” I ask, my voice coming out smaller than I intended.
“Of course not,” Lyra says quickly, though her voice has a nervous edge to it. She exchanges a glance with Empress Valentina that I can’t quite read.
Valentina leans forward. “It’s just that usually one of the heroes dies during the adventure,” she says bluntly, her words landing like a physical blow.
My eyes go wide, and I feel Brooke’s hand tighten around mine under the table. The crystal goblet in my other hand suddenly feels heavier, the sweet liquid inside turning bitter in my mouth.
“Not always,” Morgana interjects, her voice smooth as velvet. She swirls her drink, watching the liquid catch the light. “There are no legends to say one hero always has to die.”
Queen Lyra’s eyes dart to Morgana with an awkwardness that makes my stomach twist. There’s something in that look, a silent conversation happening right in front of us that I’m not privy to.
Morgana clears her throat. “The records indicate that at least as far back as six heroes ago, both survived.”
Something about her tone makes me doubt her words.
“How trustworthy are those records?”
“Well, it’s hard to say,” she admits. “But I have no reason to doubt them.”
“Neither of us are dying, Chris,” Brooke declares, her voice firm and unwavering. She takes a big drink from her glass, her eyes never leaving mine. The determination in her gaze makes my chest tighten with emotion.
“Look at him,” Empress Valentina slurs, pointing at me with a wobbly finger. “He’s blushing.”
“Ugh…”
“What a shame,” Queen Lyra sighs, her green eyes studying me with an intensity that makes me want to shrink in my seat. “A male hero would have been such a huge get for any house.”
I nearly choke on my drink. The casual way she says it, like I’m some kind of prize breeding stallion, makes my skin crawl.
“Miss Hero,” Valentina says, leaning toward Brooke with a drunken grin that shows too many teeth. “Have you two... consummated your relationship?”
The entire table seems to go quiet at her question. I feel my face burning hotter than before, and I can’t bring myself to look at anyone.
“Yeah!” Brooke answers without hesitation, her voice loud and proud. “We certainly have.”
The room erupts into chaos.
A wave of cheers and laughter sweeps through the banquet hall. Nobles and queens alike raise their goblets, their faces flushed with alcohol and excitement.
“I’ll drink to that, Hero!” shouts a woman from the far end of the table, her words slightly slurred as she raises her glass high above her head. “To the Hero’s conquest!”
The crowd roars in approval. A servant appears at Brooke’s side, pouring more of that golden liquid into her goblet until it nearly overflows. Brooke grins, that confident smile I fell in love with, and raises her glass.
“Everyone drink!” she commands, and the entire table follows her lead.
I take a sip from my own glass, the sweet alcohol burning pleasantly down my throat. Brooke nudges me with her elbow, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
“Drink up, Chris,” she whispers, leaning close enough that I can feel her breath against my ear.
I nod and take a bigger gulp this time, feeling the warmth spread through my chest. The nobles around us are watching Brooke with admiration, their expressions a mix of surprise and delight at her boldness.
“That’s my girl,” I murmur, pride swelling in my chest despite my lingering anxiety.
But as I watch Brooke laugh and clink glasses with Empress Valentina, a cold dread settles in my stomach. The thought of her dying on this adventure, of losing her to some demon queen or monster, looms over me like a shadow. I take another drink, hoping the alcohol will dull the sharp edge of that fear.
Brooke leans across the table, her voice dropping to a more serious tone. “Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask, is contraception a thing in this world?”
Empress Valentina’s eyes light up with drunken enthusiasm. “Oh, like abortion? Yeah, there’s plenty of abortion spells. Very effective, very quick.”
I can’t help it. I laugh completely blown away by Valentina.
“No, like preventative,” Brooke clarifies.
“Ohhh,” Valentina drawls.
Queen Lyra’s sharp green eyes flick to Morgana, who’s been watching our exchange with that unnerving intensity. “I’m sure the royal mage here would have no trouble casting a simple birth control spell.”
Morgana’s posture stiffens. “I don’t know if I feel comfortable doing that to a hero.”
“You’d rather I get pregnant before going on my grand adventure?” Brooke asks, her voice rising slightly.
“You could just abort it though?” Valentina suggests, her words slurring together.
Everyone at the table seems to collectively ignore her, focusing instead on the tension building between Brooke and Morgana.
Lyra turns to Morgana, her expression softening into something that might be persuasion. “I know you’re not my royal mage, but it really would be harmless, wouldn’t it? Even the peasants can cast that.”
Morgana’s jaw tightens. She looks annoyed. “Well...” she hesitates, then her gaze shifts to me. “Is it what Christopher wants?”
All eyes turn to me. “Yes.”
“Oh...” She leans toward me, her lips moving as she whispers a word I can’t quite catch.
A strange warmth settles low in my pelvis, like a gentle hand pressing against me from the inside. It’s not unpleasant, just... different.
“What is it?” I ask, shifting uncomfortably in my seat.
“It’s nothing harmful,” Morgana assures me, though her tone is clipped. “You’ll see it later.”
“So we’re safe to do it now?” Brooke asks, her voice carrying a hint of eagerness that makes my heart race.
Morgana nods, her expression unreadable. “Yeah...”