Laya ignored him and leaned back over the writing desk. Openly this time, she scanned the papers littered across its surface. Plucking one sheet from the pile, she held it to the light. At closer glance, she saw that every inch was filled with the same spiky western script she had never learned to read. She thought back to the history texts she’d once memorized in the course of her studies. The same story echoed across time in other corners of the world. Centuries before, the islands in the Untulu Sea fell to a set of vile conquerors, all of whom were eager to carve a bounty for themselves in the east. Orfelia fell to a western power by the name of Salmantica. They stole the Orfelian natives’ wealth and imposed their ugly language and even uglier script.

“Is this what Salmantican is supposed to look like?” she asked with a grimace.

“Yes,” he said, approaching her with caution, as if she might attack him. “I often write in Salmantican.”

“Not Orfelian?”

Ariel shook his head. “Sometimes it’s more natural for me to write in Salmantican. It was the language of my studies.”

“You feel more at ease in the language of your masters?” Laya sneered as she handed the paper back to him. “Forgive me if I find that rich.”

“Salmantican has its uses, you know,” he said. “For me, it opened the door to some of the best universities in the world. Some of the greatest literature, as well.”

“Does Orfelia have no great literature of its own?”

“I’m afraid much of our literature was lost centuries ago in the conquest, Dayang.” Bitterness crossed his eyes, and she took note of it.

Idly, she made her way to the open window. In the courtyard below, servants were sweeping dried leaves and withered petals from the ground ahead of the guests’ arrival. “I bet you haven’t seen much of the palace, let alone the rest of Maynara,” she remarked. “Although I expect my father will lengthen your leash after the feast days, once all the visitors leave.”

His cheeks reddened as he shuffled his feet. “I’m afraid I don’t understand your meaning.”

“Liar,” she said, keeping her voice light. “As I said, Ariel, I will pretend that you are my Salmantican tutor for now. But one day, I’ll find out why you’re truly here.”

“I am your Salmantican tutor, Dayang,” he said, stone-faced. Good. That was the sort of challenge Laya liked.

“Suit yourself, then.” She drew a second chair to the desk and had a seat. “If you have nothing better to do, I’d like to request an advance lesson.”

Ariel raised an eyebrow at her. “I would be delighted to teach you. But⁠—really?”