Roald faced the group. He held his back unnaturally straight, and kept looking to the side, but his father was talking to the courtier with the list. The man proceeded to call out each girl’s name and marked her off as if she was an item in a delivery.
While the orchestra played softly, Roald and his father inspected the line. King Nicholaos made small talk with the girls, and each curtsied. Johanna was sweating under her gown. Why on earth was she doing this? It was like being a cow for sale at the markets.
In the middle of the soft musical tones, there was a loud discordant twang.
Conversations stopped. People turned their heads to the orchestra.
From in the middle of the seated musicians, the lutist rose, his face red. One of the strings on his instrument dangled loose.
He stammere
