The candles flickered softly through the hallways, casting a warm golden light.
The air around them turned thick as Yeara's gaze locked onto his face..deeply, almost piercingly—the candlelight reflecting in her clear green eyes.
Zalthor's eyes shifted to hers as he spoke slowly, as though he were thinking deeply…which he clearly wasn't.
"Perhaps…perhaps not," he said. And with that, he began descending the long staircase. Yeara hurried after him, matching his pace, determined to remain at his side—though truthfully, she simply could not stand the thought of being left behind on such a long staircase.
Yeara pouted softly before returning her lips to their usual expression. She had half expected this answer. She did not understand why he never answered her questions directly. He would give a reply, yet one could never tell if he was serious or not—except when he chose to show it.
They finally reached the ground floor and continued walking further.
"Here I thought you were going to let me find my way to the meeting," Yeara said, recalling her punishment.
Zalthor's laughter echoed through the corridor.
"My Koalla is getting smarter by the day," he remarked.
Yeara turned to him, glaring hard. This man truly loved to insult people. She said nothing, but she would surely retaliate against him in time.
Zalthor finally stopped in front of a large door. Yeara noticed a guard standing nearby, his face set straight ahead.
The guard bowed before pushing the door open. The room turned silent. If she was not mistaken, she had heard chatters. Of course, that would only mean His Majesty's presence had been sensed by them.
At the side standing was Raymond. There was a slight relieved look on his face. He had been contemplating if His Majesty was going to come or not, and now he was very much glad that His Majesty came… and it seemed he was not alone.
Yeara looked around. The place was very large. In the middle was a long table with rows of seats filled with elderly men and middle-aged men. The youngest among them seemed to look in his early thirties. The light was bright because the candle chandelier light rested above.
She noticed most of the gazes rested on her, almost in shock.
His Majesty had brought a woman to his special and secret meeting. Not only that—
They were holding hands.
Zalthor walked towards where he sat at the front table, which had three seats. Usually, he sat in the middle. The front table faced the elders' table.
He pulled the chair as he turned to Yeara, eyes calm as he urged her to sit.
Yeara smiled as she moved and sat.
The Royal Ministers watched in shock at what their eyes were witnessing. It was sure that if someone had told them this without them seeing it, they would never have believed it at all.
Not only was this the first time since they had been here that His Majesty was bringing a woman to his meeting—he even made her sit on his special seat.
Zalthor sat next to her. The ministers immediately shifted their gazes away. They did not want to die before their time.
Yeara looked at them. She could feel the slight judgmental gazes they were trying to mask with their small smiles.
"Begin."
Zalthor's icy word broke through the silence as all the Royal Ministers bowed their heads respectfully in agreement.
The first person on the row stood. He seemed to be around his late thirties. The grey in his hair spoke louder than words. He looked older than his age.
"Greetings, King Zalthor and Q… Queen Yeara."
He found it slightly hard and unusual saying it, even though they were informed by Raymond that if they saw a lady who is with His Majesty, she should be called by the rightful title. Many questions had run through their heads, yet no one dared. They loved their lives more than a silly question.
"We wanted to inform you about the retirement of Elder Greenmatt due to his age. His role is very valuable, and we were wondering who would fill that space—if perhaps you want to choose or let us choose…"
He spoke with slight uncertainty in his voice as his eyes glanced at Yeara, as if in a way she was making him unable to say the rest of what he wanted to say because she was there.
"Conclusion," Zalthor spoke.
The man bowed and continued.
"In conclusion, we want you to decide," he said.
"Are you saying there is no one else capable for that role?" Zalthor asked boredly, his hands on the table as he picked up a pen. His hand slowly moved to the stack of papers as he began to sign. The boredom in his eyes was far more terrifying.
One of them opened his mouth to speak but shut it immediately, his hand tightening around the smooth wood of the table.
The other elders exchanged glances as the man standing turned to the others, eyes asking for help.
Zalthor's eyes remained on the paper as he signed.
Yeara watched him. She noticed that he was doing two things at the same time. While he was having a meeting, he was signing the papers that needed to be signed.
'Impressive,' she thought to herself, a small smile curling her lips.
Another elder stood. He looked slightly older. His face looked squeezed, followed by wrinkles—a testament to the lack of smiles in his younger days. His look would make a person unknowingly, in their mind, put him in the class of uglies.
"Your Majesty, we have thought deeply on this and realized that his age and maturity in how he settles matters speak for themselves.
By comparing the past with the present, and considering his role in the management of business and money affairs, we see that his ability to appoint chiefs is scarce among us."
"How about the women?" Yeara suddenly asked.
Silence fell through the hall. The cursive print on the paper stopped under Zalthor's hands as his lips curled up slightly. He did not look up. He resumed his signing.
The elders turned to Zalthor, expecting him to say something, but he did not. So now that man would have to answer the Queen's question.
"There has been no discussion of that matter. Yet even so, there would be many disadvantages in hiring a woman as a Royal Minister because of certain natural attributes."
A small, forced smile moved to the man's lips, making him look stranger than ever—the sort that would make one beg him to continue frowning, for the smile did not suit him at all.
"I see. So, given the natural attributes you have just mentioned, I presume we must also believe that the older a man grows, the more foolish his mind becomes."
Shock rippled through the room, and as though that were not enough, the faint chuckle of the king was heard.
Zalthor's hand moved, taking another paper as he shifted it to his side and continued signing, his gaze fixed on it.
The elders' silence enveloped the room. They were so dumbfounded, and the fact that the king said nothing was very unsettling. It was obvious he was amused by Yeara's words, and it was like he allowed her to handle the meeting now while he focused on his signing.
The man standing just stood there, lips opened, and the only thing that left it was his slightly stinky breath. He was at a loss for words.
"Very well then, given there is no answer," Yeara spoke as the elders turned to her.
Her face turned serious, her hands folded properly on the table. She looked nothing less than a queen right now, stating orders.
"I will be the Royal Minister."