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Neera shook her head at that. “I can’t, your Majesty, with what happened the last time…”

“That’s why I said we should go together,” Jasmine persisted.

“I really can’t, I’m sorry,” Neera said.

Jasmine studied her for a second. Neera caught the fall in her expression, and Jasmine sighed a dejected sound. Leaving the castle would put not only her, but Zavian at risk.

“Have lunch with me then,” Jasmine said instead. “We could have a little picnic if you want, have it in that cute little spot of yours.”

Neera offered her a smile, though she didn’t like the idea of a picnic at the secluded spot. It was sacred to just her and Zavian.

“I would as soon as I am done here, your Majesty,” she gave in.

Jasmine rose, and with the same euphoric energy she came in with, she left. Neera didn’t take too long in the water, the cold hands of the wind already sweeping across her bare skin, and she quickly dried herself and dressed, settling for a simple pink cotton gown and a woolly jacket over it.

.....

She was half expecting Zavian in her room, but he never showed up. She trudged down the stairs, and when she reached the salon, a maid came forward to her.

“My Lady,” she said. “The Queen asked me to escort you.”

Neera followed after her, but instead of leaving through the nondescript steel doors to head to the garden, she followed the maid down to the dining hall. Confused, Neera trialed along without any question, and when the doors to the hall opened, the chatter carried its way to her. She was too late to escape when she walked in through the doors, and the voices fell.

There were lots of strange faces she had come to recognize from the night before and not prior, all sitting there, cutleries and conversations hanging mid-air, and watching her. Heads of different colors and updos scattered in her line of vision like a distorted rainbow bouncing off glass, and Jasmine rose from the head of the table, open arms welcoming her forward.

“Come, your seat is next to me,” Jasmine said.

Neera wished there had been some notification of the change of venue beforehand because surely Jasmine must have seen her parents’ sourness toward her the other day.

Neera forced her steps to the pulled-out chair, ignoring the stares that went straight at her. Jasmine squeezed affection into her hand as she sat, and quickly leaned in to say, “Change of plans. I hope you don’t mind.”

But Neera did mind, and so very much.

She wasn’t chanced to give Jasmine a reply because, to her right, her father had already pulled the Queen into a conversation. Talking and eating had resumed, and the demon next to her, the one with the emerald curls, an unnatural color for a hair, piled meat atop her plate.

“Thank you”, Neera said, looking at him. A wry smile crossed his features. He was handsome, but could not hold a candle to Jasmine’s beauty.

But as Neera dug into the meal with the enthusiasm of an invalid, she did well to avoid the glare piercing her from the Duchess seated directly opposite her.

“So, about last night…” the demon next to her drawled, and Neera froze.

“What about last night?”

“You are shy and collected when sober, but you are this ball of energy when drunk,” the demon chuckled. “Humans are very unpredictable when they drink, doing all sorts of nonsense, but not you. I liked you.”

Neera calmed at that. He had just revealed she didn’t embarrass herself, and it should have freed her, but that large blank of memory was still heavy in her head.

“So, you are the infamous concubine”, the demon whispered to her. For a brief moment, Neera saw Jasmine look their way, before returning to discuss with her father.

“I am the King’s concubine, yes,” she swallowed.

“The King’s got a good eye. I’ll give him that.”

Neera gave a polite smile. “Thank you.”

She took another forkful of food, and, as her head lowered, she looked around at the other demons on the table. They were all talking to someone next to or opposite them, and her gaze went to the door, wondering if Zavian would be in any minute.

“I heard your parents didn’t even make it to the royal wedding”, the Duchess started. The voices around the table lowered a notch, and Neera knew they had an audience.

Neera glanced at Jasmine, still busy talking. “Yes, they couldn’t.”

“What a shame,” the Duchess’s voice lacked any sympathy. “Parents are important, especially if they are still alive. They will always talk their children out of making poor decisions, like becoming a painter and traveling the world. Oh goodness, such a waste of time.”

A raven-haired, starved-looking demon looked up. “But I am a painter.”

The Duchess shot him a look that made him wither in his seat. “You are my point exactly,” she cut the steak on her plate, the flesh oozing red liquid, “or to join a circus. Why would they do that?” She continued her previous conversation. “Or to become a concubine, which is just a refined word for those girls we see littering the docks for a penny or two.”

The food turned to lead in Neera’s mouth. Jasmine was still talking to her father, completely unaware, and the small giggle the Queen gave at what her father was saying shot through Neera.

The first day they had arrived, Neera had been polite, but she decided she wouldn’t take such anymore, especially in the palace where she had created sweet memories.

She set down her fork. “Excuse me, I’ll be up in my chambers.”