Easy Answer

The proceedings were tense, fraught with danger, uncertainty, and the kind of fear that can be tasted.

"How do they expect us to eat when no decision has been reached? We are still in danger of annihilation." Tarina hissed to her fellow delegate and brother, Mauritius.

Mauritius pressed his lips together so firmly that they wrinkled. With a barely perceptible shake of his head, he made a point of taking a longer than necessary swig of wine from the ornately decorated goblet in front of him.

The opposing delegation appeared to appreciate this gesture, though it was difficult to read any emotion through the dramatic red, white, and black paint that covered their eyes and mouths and dripped down their necks. If their goal was to be intimidating, they had well succeeded.

"Do not show any hint of dissatisfaction or that your courage wavers." Mauritius hissed as the servants bearing the meal's first course paraded into the room.

A wave of nausea hit Tarina's stomach, and she quickly took a sip of the bitter red wine to hide the draining color from her face. She spit it back into the goblet a second later, not a single drop having reached her throat. She made eye contact with one servant after another. She knew them. Though they were dressed in the red, white, and black of their enemy's flag, and though they performed a complicated traditional dance as they set the heaping plates of food in front of the delegates, Tarina knew them.

They were her own people.

Her heart pounded erratically in her throat and her eyes and nostrils burned. These people had disappeared the year before. No trace had ever been found of them. They had been presumed dead. Yet, here they were, in chains, but well-fed and, more importantly, alive.

She glanced at Mauritius, and though he ate as if he had not a care in the world, even going so far as to engage in some forced banter with their hosts, she noticed his jaw clenching and unclenching. She could see the sinews in his arms and hands tighten, blue veins bulging against the surface.

She was conscious of every move she made. She brought her fork slowly to her mouth, stealing glances at the servants, who stood along the walls with downcast eyes. She caught the gaze of one of the other ambassadors, who sat directly in front of her. He was a large man with a map of long scars running down his cheeks and disappearing under his shirt. He watched her intently with a large, toothy grin separating the thick makeup he wore.

Though only Mauritius and herself were there to represent their people, their hosts had at least a dozen of their own number seated around the table.

Tarina remembered the conversation she'd had with Mauritius when she had first heard of the negotiations.

“How can we possibly negotiate with them?” She ticked off the points with her fingers. “We have nothing to offer. We are far outnumbered. Their weakest member is far more useful on the battlefield than our strongest.”

“I know.” Mauritius rubbed his eyes. “I know, Tarina, but they are willing to meet, to talk. We have to take advantage of that while we can.”

“They have terrorized our people, Mauritius. They have hunted us like wild game. Dozens of people have disappeared. What makes you think we will come back if we go to meet with them? What makes you think they won’t kill us on sight or poison our food?”

Mauritius had only looked at her with the sad eyes she hated. “You don’t have to come with me, Tarina. I will find someone else, or I will go alone.”

“Putting ourselves, and the rest of our people in danger won’t bring them back.” Tarina tried to reason. A whining, pleading undertone laced the edge of her words.

“Our people are already in danger.”

She ate only enough so they would not be suspicious, taking small bites and chewing daintily, smiling politely anytime one of them looked at her. It was the best she could manage. Meat was abundant. It was a delicacy Tarina was unaccustomed to. It stuck in between her teeth and soured her stomach. Glances at Mauritius showed him carrying on comfortably, his appetite apparently unharmed by the precariousness of their situation.

At the center of the table sat their enemy's leader, a tall, dark-haired woman with piercing green eyes that looked like emeralds peeking out of a dark cave and illuminated by moonlight. She had sinewy, defined muscles in her arms. Her makeup was more detailed by far than the others, and her dress, built for beauty as well as battle, was bejeweled with emeralds and diamonds and hugged her form so naturally it was impossible to envision her without it.

She stood and lifted her goblet of wine, which had been refilled only once. Immediately the room fell silent. Every individual conversation did not taper off but ended abruptly and in unison. She spoke in a voice that was strong and commanding, but did not seem unkind, nor capable of ordering the murder of many, as she had been known to do. “Welcome, our honored guests.”

“Welcome.” To a man, her people echoed. Their uniformity was startling.

“We are here,” Their leader continued, pausing expertly for effect, “to negotiate peace. Surely, after a meal as fine and as plentiful as this, you can see that we mean you no harm.”

Mauritius stood as if the scene had been rehearsed. He dipped his head in deference to her position and replied in a voice equally as strong, “Your hospitality has been warm and appreciated, My Lady Safira. We are honored to be your guests.”

Something was wrong. As she looked between the smiles on both leaders' faces, her lips began to tingle and her forehead to break out in a cold sweat.

Safira set her wine glass down and outstretched both arms towards Mauritius with a flourish. “Then let us retire to the meeting room.”

Mauritius stepped around the table and took both her hands in his, kissing the left, then the right before kissing her left and right cheek. She returned the favor by weaving her fingers through the hair on the back of his head and pulling him down into a full, open-mouthed kiss that was as passionate as it was unexpected.

Tarina was sure she could feel her stomach in the tips of her toes.

“Come, Delegates,” Safira announced after the kiss had ended. “We will take our after-meal refreshments in the meeting room.” Her voice grew tender, though her gaze was steely as it turned to Tarina. “Perhaps something sweet would be appropriate to mark the joining of our two nations.”

As one, those seated around the table rose. Tarina desperately sought Mauritius’s eyes, but he refused to look in her direction.

It did not escape her notice that she was not allowed to take up the rear, as had been her wish, but was sandwiched between enemy warriors as they all filed out of the dining area.

Safira led them to a large room lit only by flickering candles held aloft by rows of candelabras lining the walls and standing erect throughout the middle of the room. In the very center stood a single, round table.

Tarina gasped. On the table stood several cakes of varying sizes and varying degrees of chocolate. Each was decorated with rich chocolate icing, chocolate shavings, and chocolate flowers which were bafflingly life-like. Such richness Tarina had never seen. She had tasted chocolate before, but it was a rarity and only ever came in small amounts.

A servant noiselessly pushed her way through the gathered group and began to cut into the cakes with a large knife. She was generous with the pieces and placed them one at a time on crystal plates, accompanied by dainty silver forks.

When Tarina’s piece reached her, she could only stare at its decadence. Underneath the beautiful icing lay a piece of cake so porous and moist she could nearly see the liquid seep out of it.

The atmosphere immediately shifted from tense to jovial, but no one took a bite, and the room remained conspicuously silent.

“Once peace has been reached, we will enjoy this bounty.” Safira announced.

Tarina was appalled to see that Mauritius was smiling and gazing at the leader of their enemies with an expression of adoration she had never before seen grace his features.

A short man in a hooded robe appeared at the front of the room.

“We will reach peace,” Safira paused. Was it Tarina’s imagination or did the leader’s eyes latch onto her own? “By becoming one people. We are now warring clans, but through unity, we will be powerful.”

Tarina watched in horror as Mauritius, her brother and leader of her people, pledged himself in body and in mind to Safira, the one who had killed hundreds of their people and kidnapped dozens more, turning them into slaves.

When the ceremony was done, a cheer erupted amongst the gathered and the cake was eaten with gusto and celebration.

Tarina took a bite. The sweetness and chocolatey flavor exploded on her tongue, causing her knees to nearly buckle.

She caught Safira’s eyes as she took another bite. Then another. Soon her entire piece was gone and a light, airy feeling had replaced the worry inside her chest. A small, victorious smile spread across Safira’s lips.

She would have no more trouble from Tarina.