Chapter One
Whispers rose through the great hall like the angry hum of bees, and Akna felt her face grow warm. The stares of dozens of privileged courtiers were hot on her body, like the noonday rays of golden sunshine. But instead of filling her with joy, this warmth was angry, condescending, curious and…just a little lustful. Akna squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, dark eyes flashing. She refused to cower before these strangers, these painted fools in layers of frills and impractical fabric. Their towering hairdos and shiny clothes seemed monstrous to her, and she flexed her arms, relishing the feel of her sealskin dress. It was warm and soft and stretched over her creamy olive skin like a perfectly formed glove.
And Akna, third daughter of Inuk chief Tulok, was as perfect as any of her people. Her thick, glossy black hair was neatly plaited into one long braid that hung down her back. She had a smooth, oval face punctuated by doelike hazel eyes and rosebud lips. She had always been envied for her swanlike neck and her perfect hourglass figure, which was accentuated by her tightly wrapped dress, hand-beaded with coloured bone and stones. It was warmer here than in her homeland, so she had left her caribou parka in her guest quarters, and she wore only the lightest of moccasins. Her defiant eyes sweeping the crowd, she caught the envious looks on several white-faced ladies…as well as some lingering looks from men. Narrowing her eyes to slits, she watched as a man trailed his eyes down her lithe form, his gaze lingering on her shapely calves.
Savages
, she thought angrily.
Then her ageing father, the chief of their Inuit tribe, stepped forward. A hush fell over the crowd.
“We greet you, King of England,” he said, his deep voice gravelly and thickly accented.
The king stood from his throne and extended his arms.
“You are welcome here,” King George III boomed from the dais.
“Many thanks,” Tulok responded, his normally confident voice hesitant. “I present… May I present daughter?”
Muffled giggles and snickers filled the room at his stumbling speech. Even so, Tulok did not seemed fazed; his wrinkled face was as serene as ever. But Akna felt indignation race through her veins.
Very well
, she thought, steeling herself.
If it’s a show they want…
Akna stepped forward boldly, gently placing a hand on her father’s arm. And then she spoke, her voice as clear and melodious as a bell and her accent flawless.
“This is my father, Tulok,” she announced with her head held high. “He is the chief of our people. And I am Akna, his daughter.” She paused for a moment to take in the shocked faces around her.
Yes
, she thought with a victorious tilt to her lips. Those hours spent mastering the language on the long voyage across the sea had not been wasted. It helped that she had been the voice for her people when the English traders and explorers ventured north. She had spent years picking up the vocabulary and nuances from these bands of brave travellers—and then weeks immersing herself in English on the sea voyage to Britain.
“Along with these three companions,” she continued, gesturing to the elders behind her, “we have travelled from Labrador in order to greet you and your people. We look forward to this exchange.”
“Well,” the king replied after a short, stunned pause, “I trust that you will enjoy your stay. I will arrange an escort for you. Now please,” he said, clapping his hands, “enjoy this feast we have prepared for you!”
Akna tried not to flinch in surprise as the hall’s doors opened with a loud bang. A line of servers poured into the hall carrying trays of exotically prepared food, which they set down on long tables. The courtiers sighed in pleasure as they migrated slowly toward the treats, their stomachs leading them.
“Father,” Akna said in her mother tongue, leaning in to whisper in his ear, “let us return to the quarters these white strangers have
Whispers rose through the great hall like the angry hum of bees, and Akna felt her face grow warm. The stares of dozens of privileged courtiers were hot on her body, like the noonday rays of golden sunshine. But instead of filling her with joy, this warmth was angry, condescending, curious and…just a little lustful. Akna squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, dark eyes flashing. She refused to cower before these strangers, these painted fools in layers of frills and impractical fabric. Their towering hairdos and shiny clothes seemed monstrous to her, and she flexed her arms, relishing the feel of her sealskin dress. It was warm and soft and stretched over her creamy olive skin like a perfectly formed glove.
And Akna, third daughter of Inuk chief Tulok, was as perfect as any of her people. Her thick, glossy black hair was neatly plaited into one long braid that hung down her back. She had a smooth, oval face punctuated by doelike hazel eyes and rosebud lips. She had always been envied for her swanlike neck and her perfect hourglass figure, which was accentuated by her tightly wrapped dress, hand-beaded with coloured bone and stones. It was warmer here than in her homeland, so she had left her caribou parka in her guest quarters, and she wore only the lightest of moccasins. Her defiant eyes sweeping the crowd, she caught the envious looks on several white-faced ladies…as well as some lingering looks from men. Narrowing her eyes to slits, she watched as a man trailed his eyes down her lithe form, his gaze lingering on her shapely calves.
Savages
, she thought angrily.
Then her ageing father, the chief of their Inuit tribe, stepped forward. A hush fell over the crowd.
“We greet you, King of England,” he said, his deep voice gravelly and thickly accented.
The king stood from his throne and extended his arms.
“You are welcome here,” King George III boomed from the dais.
“Many thanks,” Tulok responded, his normally confident voice hesitant. “I present… May I present daughter?”
Muffled giggles and snickers filled the room at his stumbling speech. Even so, Tulok did not seemed fazed; his wrinkled face was as serene as ever. But Akna felt indignation race through her veins.
Very well
, she thought, steeling herself.
If it’s a show they want…
Akna stepped forward boldly, gently placing a hand on her father’s arm. And then she spoke, her voice as clear and melodious as a bell and her accent flawless.
“This is my father, Tulok,” she announced with her head held high. “He is the chief of our people. And I am Akna, his daughter.” She paused for a moment to take in the shocked faces around her.
Yes
, she thought with a victorious tilt to her lips. Those hours spent mastering the language on the long voyage across the sea had not been wasted. It helped that she had been the voice for her people when the English traders and explorers ventured north. She had spent years picking up the vocabulary and nuances from these bands of brave travellers—and then weeks immersing herself in English on the sea voyage to Britain.
“Along with these three companions,” she continued, gesturing to the elders behind her, “we have travelled from Labrador in order to greet you and your people. We look forward to this exchange.”
“Well,” the king replied after a short, stunned pause, “I trust that you will enjoy your stay. I will arrange an escort for you. Now please,” he said, clapping his hands, “enjoy this feast we have prepared for you!”
Akna tried not to flinch in surprise as the hall’s doors opened with a loud bang. A line of servers poured into the hall carrying trays of exotically prepared food, which they set down on long tables. The courtiers sighed in pleasure as they migrated slowly toward the treats, their stomachs leading them.
“Father,” Akna said in her mother tongue, leaning in to whisper in his ear, “let us return to the quarters these white strangers have
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