Silver Skeletons: Book 3 The Rose Tree Chronicles

Chapter Two: A Plot Enacted and Threats Cast

"The Sovereign and his Parliament of the Kingdom of Noelle hereby hold that a 'Person' is defined as a citizen who possesses a free will and individual voice unobstructed by another absent of Royal Blood, Noble Classification, or Royally Appointed Authority... Therefore, a Person cannot be controlled or spoken for by another Person."

Makiar pulled open one of the towering iron doors, the hinges groaning as sunlight spilled across the threshold. Sir Rallian stepped inside with the weight of the road still clinging to his shoulders, a long breath escaping him like the end of a performance. Despite seventy-two years behind him, he appeared to be in his fifties, and he walked with a youthful but heavy gait. He moved without urgency, peeling off a mustard-yellow coat whose threaded designs shimmered faintly in the dim hall light.

"How was your meeting with the queen, my Lord?" Makiar asked as he took the coat.

Rallian passed his ivory dress cane off to his butler as well. "It was quite a bore at first, but it did grow interesting rather quickly. Thank you, Makiar." He peeked into his drawing room where he found Nadia asleep on the magenta settee. He gestured toward her as he spoke. "Send her and Nazar into my study, please."

Makiar gave an obedient nod of his head. "Yes, my Lord."

The count turned at last to the two slaves he had brought with him, Garnet and Mauro, whose postures were quiet with the stillness of forced obedience, their eyes lowered. Rallian waved Mauro away, and then addressed Garnet.

"Fetch me something to drink; whatever is immediately available. Then learn the status on the cuff and report back to me."

"Yes, Master." Garnet dipped into a fluid curtsy. Then she left to do her master's bidding, the soft rustle of her sapphire skirts trailing behind her.

Moments later, the count entered his posh study, and sank into his chair with the casual ownership of someone long accustomed to power. Makiar entered closely behind with Nadia and Nazar.

The count held out the sample of the seal for the Kingdom of Saíd to Nazar. "Have this seal forged for me, promptly."

"Right away, my Lord." Nazar bowed, and left the room.

"Nadia, have a seat."

Nadia eased herself into the chair opposite the count's ornate maple desk, its carved edges gleaming softly in the excess candlelight. Her eyes swept the room, careful not to linger too long on any one thing, but even a passing glance told her everything she needed to know. This was a scholar's domain. Bookcases lined every wall, bending beneath the weight of leather-bound tomes and yellowed scrolls. At the center of the room, a wide maple table bore a sprawling map of Xyntriav, corners pinned down by half-filled goblets and crusted ink bottles. The space carried the clutter of a mind too busy for order with papers scattered without logic, scribbled in a sharp, slanted hand; candlesticks melted to their bases, wax hardened onto polished surfaces; ink stains ghosting across documents and tabletops; food trays stacked in the corner, their contents half-eaten and just beginning to draw flies. And yet, the air held no hint of rot, only the faint trace of incense curling like smoke through the room, masking what it could.

This place didn't feel like the rest of the estate. Here, the chaos hadn't been scrubbed away. It felt ... untouched, as if even the slaves were kept from disturbing the count's sanctum. Without a word, Count Rallian lifted a hand and dismissed the others. Makiar and the guards filed out without hesitation, leaving Nadia alone in the study's heavy silence. The count leaned back in his throne-like chair, and regarded her with a gaze that didn't demand obedience so much as expect it. Nadia let her eyes flick up to meet his, just once. Then she dropped them again, quickly, as if scorched.

Behind him, through the lavender curtains framing the tall window, a muted, flickering light caught her attention. Rein. Nadia forced herself to look away just as fast, heart quickening. Drawing attention to herself was dangerous. Drawing it to Rein could be worse. She folded her hands in her lap, and said nothing.

"I am Sir Rallian, Count of Helvetica," he began. "The queen and I are old acquaintances. This morning, she informed me that you were to be sent to the palace. Do you know anything about that?"

Nadia shook her head without looking up from the cream and tan rug on the stone floor.

"No, I suppose you wouldn't," Rallian continued. "In either case, plans have changed. The queen has requested that I prevent you from arriving to the palace by any means necessary, and that I am to do with you as I please. Clearly, she has no desire for you to be anywhere near her. I can't be certain as to why, but instead, you will be living with me here on Aimonbay Estate."

A soft knock interrupted the count, and the door creaked open. Garnet stepped inside, balancing a silver tray with a single crystal glass. Nadia glanced up, eyes settling on the young, dark-skinned girl as she moved across the room with a natural grace.

Garnet couldn't have been much older than Nadia, but there was a poise to her that betrayed an aged spirit. She was dressed in the same opulent style as the other indoor slaves: a deep blue bedleh that shimmered with every step, the fabric clinging and flowing in perfect measure. Gold and emerald ornaments adorned her wrists, neck, and waist, each one echoing the rich greens embroidered into her top and the gathered folds of her voluminous skirts. With each step, her jewelry chimed; a soft, delicate sound that contradicted the weight it symbolized.

Their eyes met briefly before the count addressed Garnet.

"Thank you. And please tell me that the cuff has arrived."

"It's ready when you are, Master," Garnet replied.

"Excellent. Bring it in along with Alik and Nazar."

"Right away, Master."

The count continued his lecture to Nadia once Garnet had left the room.

"So, my dear Nadia. I have many slaves, and I have many servants. Servants get paid a wage, slaves do not. As I have many servants, carpenters, stonemasons, glass-smiths, landscapers, and blacksmiths—all of whom I must pay—and many people on my estate to feed and nurture, I cannot afford more servants. This means that while you live here with me, you cannot be a servant. Worry not, in return for your labor, I will be feeding you and providing you with a roof over your head. It's a much preferred alternative to living on the streets, wouldn't you agree?"

Nadia gave a small nod, then lowered her gaze once more, her eyes settling on the floor as if it might offer some solid ground beneath the shifting weight of her thoughts. Like a slow-rising tide, the truth of it all settled. She had gone from princess to slave in but a couple hours. This would be her new life now. Her throat tightened, and her eyes blurred with the sting of tears.

"Of course it is, especially during our brutal winters. And though my name may be Sir Rallian, you are to refer to me as 'Master,' as it is appropriate for slaves to do so."

Garnet reappeared, gliding into the study with silent precision. In her hands, she carried a violet velvet pillow, the fabric rich and regal beneath the single gleaming object it bore—a gold cuff, polished to a mirror shine. She approached the count with lowered eyes and outstretched arms, presenting the cuff like an offering at an altar. Behind her, Alik and Nazar stepped into the room and took their places at a respectful distance.

"Beautiful," said the count. "Show the child."

Garnet held it lower so that Nadia could read what had been engraved into the gold:

Nadia

Property of Sir Rallian

Count of Helvetica

Aimonbay Estate

Kingdom of Noelle

"This is what my slaves wear on their arms," the count explained. "You will do the same."

Nadia flinched at the sudden pressure of Alik's hands, one pressing down on her left shoulder, the other curling around her right forearm. Though she made no move to resist, the instinctive jump was enough to make him tighten his hold. She sat frozen, breath shallow, as Nazar stepped forward. Without a word, he clasped the gold cuff around her upper arm. The metal clicked into place with a finality that echoed louder than it should have.

"These cuffs lock permanently, and can only be removed with one tool. I have that tool, and I only have one. This cuff will remain on your arm until you're freed, sold, dead, or need a new sized cuff because you've grown."

Those tears finally streamed down Nadia's cheeks, but the count paid no attention. Instead, he paced around his cluttered study, and continued to explain Nadia's future to her.

"Slaves here at Aimonbay live differently than slaves elsewhere, even with wealthy owners like myself. This is because I have a large number of slaves, so I must have a differing strategy to ensure their respect and loyalty to me. I give each slave a job or two—sometimes more, depending on their various skill-sets. Since you're young and even you don't know much about yourself yet, you will merely clean and fetch water for the time being. My servants are to keep track of my slaves and keep them in line. They report any issues back to me by the end of each day. You will be assigned to Alik, my abarimon servant. I suggest you make him happy so that he reports good things about you to me."

Nadia's gaze drifted sideways, settling on Alik's boots. It took her a moment to register what she was seeing: his feet pointed the wrong way. Backward. An abarimon, indeed. The memory surfaced from the depths of her lessons with Miss Octren of half-whispered stories and annotated sketches in the margins of old texts. She had never imagined she'd meet one outside the pages of a book, let alone be subject to one. Her eyes dropped back to the floor, the weight of reality pressing in once more. She said nothing. Just listened as her new master continued to speak.

"I require my slaves to dress themselves," the count went on. "Your colleagues have left the duties of crafting clothing to those who are part napaeae. I'm sure they'll inform you more on that later. Lastly, you will be pleased to hear that I do pay my slaves as well. I give each a star a day and you get paid at the end of the month. This is simply to provide you with means of clothing. If you decide to do something else with your stipend, that is up to you. Just as long as you remain clothed well so to reflect the master to whom you belong.

"I also allow breaks for my slaves. This is only common sense if I want work completed with quality. I grant one day off a week, and three hours each day. You may do whatever you will during those breaks, I simply ask that you keep out of the way of the construction and continue to reflect me well in public. I discipline my slaves strictly. How severe the fault determines how severe the discipline. The especially rash faults get whippings. The discipline for escape attempts, however, is far worse. If you really wish to know the consequence for escape attempts, ask around and perhaps you'll learn the easy way. While you ask around for that information, ask about the Slave Arena. Legally, you must be educated about it, but I'm far too lazy at this time, and I have a lot of work piling up by the minute. Garnet will show you to your bedchamber. I will call you back later tonight to speak with you more about your work schedule."

Nadia stood to follow Garnet.

"Nadia." She paused. "In the future when I finish speaking with you, you will respond properly upon leaving. Am I clear?"

"Yes, Master," Nadia softly replied, still unable to look him in the eye.

"Very good. You're a fast learner; I like that. Garnet, you may escort her to your chamber now."

"Yes, Master," Garnet replied with a curtsy.

Garnet led Nadia out of the study, the soft jingle of her jewelry echoing faintly down the hall. Across from the doorway, an elegant parlor opened up, but they turned away from it, stepping instead into a corridor so grand it swallowed their footsteps.

"My name is Garnet."

Nadia met her gaze, slightly confused by the bright smile on the girl's face. "I'm Nadia."

"Welcome, Nadia," said Garnet. "I know it's scary, but it's really not so bad here. You'll get used to everything soon enough."

She proceeded to escort Nadia down the massive corridor. The walls rose high, lined with immense portraits of Count Rallian's lineage. Platinum and silver frames caught the light as they passed, each painting a solemn reminder of the legacy that ruled this place. The faces of men and women draped in opulence stared down in stoic silence, their painted gazes following the girls like judgment cast in oil.

As they passed the grand hall, Nadia slowed. Beneath a scattering of dust and fractured stone was what remained of a wall, demolished and exposed. A glimpse into the estate's evolution. So this was the construction the count had mentioned during his monologue. She found it strangely revealing, the way disorder coexisted with refinement. The mess did nothing to disrupt the air, which still carried the faint scent of mahogany cologne and fresh lilac, as if even the castle's breath was curated.

They reached a wide staircase draped in a red and orange rug, its once-bright threads dulled by time. Nadia followed Garnet up through the west wing, past silent sconces and windows that filtered the suns into gold and dust. On the third floor, they crossed another long corridor until a second flight of stairs rose before them, winding toward a fourth floor shrouded in shadows. But they didn't climb. Instead, Garnet turned to a door beside the stairwell, and pushed it open without ceremony. Nadia paused in the doorway.

The room was small and bare, carved more by function than comfort. Two narrow beds sat against opposite walls, the bedding of one faded and stiff with age. A pair of wooden dressers were riddled with termite holes, their surfaces warped and splintered. A lone iron table crouched in the center of the room, accompanied by a single chair and a rusted chamberstick seated on its surface. The window had no curtains, only a bleak view of the land behind the castle stretching endlessly into gardens, construction, and farmland.

Nadia stood frozen. She felt like she was looking through a doorway into the rest of her life. This was it. A cell dressed up as a room. She couldn't yet bring herself to cross the threshold. She was not ready to accept the bleak bed and termite-infested dresser as hers.

"We get to share a room," said Garnet with another smile, excited to finally have a roommate.

Nadia looked at the girl beside her, unsure of what to make of the light in her expression. Garnet's green eyes shimmered with a kind of brightness that seemed impossible in a place like this. For a moment, Nadia could only stare, disbelieving. And yet ... when Garnet met her gaze and smiled, warm and effortless, something in Nadia softened. There was something about Garnet's presence that felt like a lifeline. After everything Nadia had endured these past few years—the emotional abuse of her mother, the unintentional neglect of her father, and now her sudden exile—it was strange to think that what she needed now, more than freedom or answers, was kindness. A steady voice. A gentle soul. But she shouldn't have to be enslaved to find it, and the weight of it all crashed down. A sob burst from her chest before she could stop it, jagged and raw. Then another. And then the tears came in an unstoppable flood.

"Oh, no, Nadia!" Garnet stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her with a tenderness that didn't ask permission. Still holding her, Garnet gently guided Nadia across the threshold and into the room. The door closed behind them with a quiet click, sealing them away from the weight of the castle.

"It's really not so bad here, I promise. So many others have it worse. You're actually really fortunate to be at Aimonbay."

※

Rein lingered only long enough to learn where Nadia's "bedchamber" was situated, which was really only a bedroom. Satisfied that, for now, Nadia was safe, Rein turned and rose into the sky, pinpointing the location of the palace of Helvetica. Her wings buzzed as she zoomed toward her next stop in her new mission to free Nadia.

The Count's polished words echoed in her mind, practiced and deeply suspicious. For some reason, Queen Ariana didn't want Nadia to arrive, and had asked the count to do something about it? Rein had to find out if this was true, and if so, if anyone else was in on the scheme, and why. Only once she had the full picture could she begin to decide what might be done—if anything could be done.

By the time she neared the Helvetican Palace, the Southern sun had begun to set, casting the sky in soft purple hues. The fortress shimmered beneath it with its silver domes gleaming like polished glass, and the white walls catching some of the sky's lavender light. Rein hovered silently, scanning the towering structure for a vantage point. Eventually, she found one a tall window with a view of the throne room, blazed with light and color. The king and queen sat stiffly upon their silver thrones, their postures rigid, expressions tight with impatience. It was clear to Rein they were still expecting Nadia.

She blinked against the brilliance of the chamber. Light scattered across every surface. The platinum floor served as a perfect mirror that reflected the court and the lavish buffet laid out like a still-life painting, bowls overflowing with grapes of green, crimson, and violet. But it wasn't the opulence that held Rein's attention. It was the mirrors. Nearly every inch of the walls was covered in them, multiplying the space, turning it into a mess of echoes of glittering images. The room seemed to stretch and bend around itself in a dizzying illusion of grandeur.

After forcing away her perplexity at the over-use of mirrors, Rein let her gaze drift across the throne room. Whoever had prepared it clearly still believed Nadia would come. Pale pink banners hung like delicate sighs from the vaulted ceiling. Bouquets of lavender, yellow, and soft blush blooms spilled from golden vases, surrounded by flittering butterflies of pink and purple. The banquet table glittered with silver platters and spun sugar towers, and the orchestra stood poised, ready to play. Everyone was dressed as if a ball might begin at any moment, and the only thing left was for the guest of honor to arrive.

Rein scanned the crowd. Impatience clung to them like perfume past its prime. The three princes—Myrdor, Raynar, and Colton—stood at stiff attention beside their mother's throne, arranged from youngest to eldest like a row of polished game pieces. Their white and silver uniforms gleamed, though each boy's eyes betrayed his struggle: Myrdor's jaw clenched with forced maturity, Raynar blinked too often, and little Colton fidgeted with his gloves.

The king sat just a step above them, his leg bouncing beneath velvet robes. He gnawed at what remained of his fingernails, jaw working as if he could chew through his nerves. Did he truly not know? That his own wife, serene as a painting beside him, had delayed Nadia's return? Or had the count lied to her? But how could the count have known Their Majesties were awaiting Nadia ... unless the queen had told him herself?

Queen Ariana looked impossibly young beside her aging husband, though Rein knew they were nearly the same age. She cradled a white rabbit in her arms, its ears twitching as if in tune with the tension in the room. Occasionally, she shot her husband sharp, silent glances like daggers dressed in silk, but kept her lips sealed. Rein shifted her weight, ready to leave just to escape the stagnant anticipation. Then, just as the silence began to stretch too long, the king finally addressed his royal advisor.

"You're certain she's coming, Polaris?"

Polaris stood sentinel beside the king's throne, arms folded tightly across his chest. His dark tunic and trousers set him apart from the jeweled silks and embroidered finery of the court, like an ink stain on a parchment of pastels. Though he said nothing, the weight in his posture spoke volumes: he, too, was tired of the waiting. His gaze swept the entrance again, not expectant, but with the dull persistence of someone who longed for the door to open.

"Unless another bears knowledge of your dream, she should arrive," Polaris assured.

"Who else could know of our dream?" asked Queen Ariana. She brushed the rabbit fur off the yellow ruffles of her gown.

"And what difference would that make?" added Darren.

"If you told someone, or someone overheard, they could make an effort to compromise Nadia's arrival," Polaris explained.

"Why would anyone prevent her arrival?" asked the king.

"To spite you, sire."

"Well I've told no one," Ariana said.

Rein narrowed her eyes at the queen. It was clear by her quick evasions that Count Rallian had told Nadia the truth.

"Nor have I," Darren added.

"And nor have I," said Polaris. "So, unless someone overheard, she will show."

Just then, the heavy doors creaked open and a courier swept into the throne room, a silver tray balanced in his gloved hands. A single envelope rested atop it, sealed in wax. He moved briskly down the center aisle, past the hot pink pillars that flanked the walkway like gaudy guards, his boots hushed against the sky-blue runner. Reaching the thrones, he dropped to one knee without a word. King Darren took the letter in silence, his fingers lingering on the seal for a moment before he cracked it open. His eyes flicked across the page, unreadable. Around him, the room seemed to hold its breath. Once he was finished, he shot up from this throne, the movement sudden enough to send a throng of butterflies spinning away.

"I will not be made a fool like this!" he roared. "The nerve I tell you!"

"What is it, Dear?" Ariana asked, feigning concern.

Polaris took the letter, turning it over in his hands to inspect the broken seal before unfolding it.

"Nadia has been kidnapped, and the Kingdom of Saíd is responsible!" Darren announced. "We are to surrender the kingdom if we wish to see her!"

"What?" Rein asked under her breath. "That doesn't make sense..."

Polaris's eyes flicked across the page, narrowing. Rein leaned forward from the window, hoping that he would read it aloud. She was quickly disappointed.

"Well this is just horrible!" said the queen.

"It is humiliating! Unacceptable, and I will not stand for it!"

"Well ... what are we to do?"

"After this offense? We will attack Saíd first!"

"I would advise against that, Your Majesty," Polaris stated calmly as he folded the letter.

Ariana's gaze shot to the royal advisor. "You would what?"

"Well, you must observe the situation, Your Majesties." Polaris stepped in front of the thrones to face the king and queen directly. "You've received letters from King Klaris before. Does this resemble his handwriting to you? Or his signature? Does this letter sound at all like the others? And since when has Klaris shown any interest in Noelle?"

Rein couldn't tear her eyes from the letter. She wondered what it was about the writing style which made Polaris so certain it had not been written by King Klaris. And if it hadn't been written by Klaris, who had written it?

"He could've had his scribe write it," Ariana argued. "And people often change, Polaris."

"Indeed they do, Your Majesty. But so quickly? The last time we've heard from him was only a week ago. And we both know he prefers to write his own letters."

"Something could've happened. He may have been too occupied to write the message himself."

"Then just heed my warning, Your Majesty. A sovereign shouldn't be so quick to go to war. By what I see from this letter, I suspect Nadia is still in this kingdom—in Helvetica even. Perhaps as a slave as she was in the Slave Market in your dream. It appears someone intervened and purchased Nadia for himself, and the original gentleman was unable to do so. I would suggest assembling a search party for, say, a month to search everywhere in the kingdom. In the meantime, reply to the letter. Explain to Klaris about this one you've received, your suspicions, and ask if he wrote it. Then, if he replies in the affirmative, send your own warnings and attempt to settle the matter through negotiation. If he still fails to be civilized, then you will be justified to go to war."

"What a preposterous waste of time, Darling." Ariana spoke serenely to her husband. "It's clear by the seal that this is from the Kingdom of Saíd. We need no reassurance."

"With all due respect, Your Majesty, seals are easy to forge when one has the means."

"But what are the odds?"

"I'd say the odds are good in Helvetica. There are many wealthy people to whom you send letters. Families of the nobles may live in prosperity or conduct business in other countries. It shouldn't come as a surprise if any of them have access to other royal seals. This would give Helveticans the means to forge this seal and write a letter themselves pretending to be King Klaris."

"Why would someone wish to pretend to be King Klaris, and demand we hand the kingdom over to him?" Ariana asked.

"There are some citizens who desire a war for their own purposes, Your Majesty," Polaris answered. "Lord Mendor, the baron who owns the major weapons forge in Mayove, is a prime example of a noble who would profit well from a war."

"Darren," Ariana said to her husband. "His plan is daft. We don't have time for senseless search parties and needless reassurance. It is clear that Noelle has been threatened!"

"He is right, Ariana," Darren said. "We shouldn't be so quick to go to war and the letter is suspicious. I will write a response and send out a search party until I hear back from King Klaris. But mark my words, someone's head will roll for this note of offense, Klaris or not!"

King Darren's fist closed around the letter, crushing it with a sudden, violent twist, and then he flung it to the floor. The platinum surface mirrored the court's startled expressions: wide eyes, stiffened backs, a ripple of unease that passed like a dreadful chill.

From the window, Rein's heart leapt. The letter lay just yards away, discarded and exposed. She gripped the edge of the sill, pulse quickening, waiting and willing for a chance to get to it.

"Clean this up!" Darren demanded with a mad gesture at the decorations. "I want everything looking the way it was before this happened!"

Then he stormed out of the throne room in a fit of rage, and his sons silently trailed behind.

"Very well." Queen Ariana sighed angrily and glared at Polaris through her baby-blue lashes. "I suppose it shouldn't take an entire month to hear a response from Klaris."

Then she, too, left the throne room.

Polaris glanced at the servants who stood around him motionless, their eyes now fixed on him. "Well you heard the king. Clean everything up." Then he left as well, combing his fingers through his thick black hair as he vanished behind the heavy doors.

Rein remained still, watching. One by one, the courtiers followed—heels clicking, robes whispering, voices hushed with speculation. Soon, only the servants remained, too absorbed in their duties to notice anything beyond the command to clean the throne room. They moved with discipline, efficient and blind.

Rein slid her fingers around the window's edge and eased it open, slow enough to make no sound. The moment had come. In a blur of movement, Rein slipped into the throne room, the scent of flowers wrapping around her like a veil. She darted across the marble floor, seized the crumpled letter, and vanished again into the shade of a nearby tree. There, hidden beneath a canopy of leaves, she unfolded the parchment with care. Her soft, steady glow bathed the page in light. Her brow furrowed deeper with each line as she tried to make sense of the words.

King Darren of Noelle,

This morning, my men happened upon a nobleman traveling with a young girl en route to your palace. The girl identified herself as Nadia, and remarked that she was expected. Regrettably, it seems she was unable to complete her journey. However, I am prepared to offer a resolution. Should you choose to relinquish your kingdom to me, her arrival may yet be arranged. I trust you will consider this proposal carefully. I await your response with great interest.

~ His Royal Majesty

King Klaris of Saíd

"I don't understand," Rein said to herself. "How ... how?"

She folded the letter, and glanced around in thought as if the answer was written in the air. Then she recalled the count handing something to his servant. "Have this seal forged for me, promptly."

"So ... this letter is a hoax!" Rein rubbed her face in frustration. What could she possibly do now?

※

Queen Ariana stormed into her bedchamber, the door slamming shut behind her. She gently set her white rabbit down on a patch of red brick flooring, where its companions huddled in a flurry of fur. Without pause, she marched to her writing desk, and yanked a fresh sheet of parchment from the stack. Her quill scraped harshly against the surface, each stroke weighted with simmering anger. The nib bit so hard into the paper it threatened to tear through. Then, she sealed the envelope, and rang the servants' bell beside her bed for Lusi. While she waited for her Lady in Waiting to arrive, she began pacing the white fur rug, her breath quickening with mounting rage.

Then the restraint snapped. In one sharp motion, she seized a flowerpot from the mantle and hurled it across the room. The force of the crash tore a handful of mirrors from the wall, sending shards of pottery and splintered glass tumbling to the floor. Her rabbits scattered in startled bursts about the soil and debris, their sharp hisses slicing through the tense air, baring pointed fangs at their furious queen.

"You fancy yourselves frightening?" Ariana snapped. She took a seat at her vanity, and lifted a small crystal vial from a reflective tray. She twisted it between her thumb and index finger in front of her lavender eyes. "We have no fear of you or your venom."

She swirled the thick, pink fluid around inside the bottle. Finally, her Lady in Waiting entered and curtsied. "You rang, Your Majesty?"

"Take this to Sir Rallian immediately. Then fetch someone to clean up that mess, and hang new mirrors on the wall!"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

※

In the quiet of his chamber, Count Rallian moved with brisk efficiency, his hands sweeping through drawers lined with silk and satin. The maple wardrobe stood half-empty behind him, its doors yawning open like a mouth. Shawls, frocks, and finely embroidered garments slipped through his fingers and into waiting trunks, each fold deliberate.

"I require a separate trunk for her trinkets," he said to Nazar, who stood off to the side.

"Yes, my Lord."

Makiar stepped into the room and paused in the doorway just as Nazar dipped into a low, measured bow before the count. The two servants accentuated each other's appearances when they stood side by side. Nazar was tall and thin, and his bow did nothing to make him appear any shorter, while Makiar was short and meaty, and this was only exaggerated in contrast with Nazar.

"My Lord," said Makiar. "You have another letter from Her Majesty."

"Bring it here," the count ordered.

Makiar gave a quick nod and slipped out to retrieve the letter from Lusi. Left in the quiet that followed, the count lowered himself onto the edge of his white-and-silver bed, the satin coverlet rustling beneath him. For a moment, he simply watched.

Across the room, his daughter bent over a trunk, carefully folding a dark green tunic along its seams. Her sun-kissed hands moved with precision, the fabric settling into place as neatly as her calm expression, composed and distant. Beside her, her lady's maid knelt in silence, working methodically through another stack of fine garments. Small and quiet as a whisper, the girl moved with a deference that needed no instruction. The room was hushed but full of purpose, unspoken thoughts, and the gentle rustle of silk being put away.

"Do any of those fit you, Skye?" the count asked his daughter.

"Unfortunately, no," she answered without looking up, a deep sorrow in her voice.

"Then take the jewelry to your chamber. They're yours. Perhaps you and Miss Lynn can share them."

Skye looked up at her father with round, lavender eyes. Then a light pink smile slowly whispered across her face, and her lady's maid matched her excitement. "Thank you, Father."

"You are too kind, my Lord," Miss Lynn added.

Lady Skye stood quickly, but paused to address her lady's maid. "Wait here, Lynn. I'll simply put this on my vanity, and I'll be back to continue packing Mother's things. We can look through it together later tonight."

"Yes, my Lady," Lynn replied.

The count's daughter slipped from the room, the sterling silver jewelry box clutched delicately in her hands. Moments later, Makiar reappeared, silent and steady, bearing a silver tray with the letter resting atop it. Count Rallian took it without a word, his eyes scanning the page. The door creaked again and Nazar entered, carefully maneuvering the requested trunk into place. A long breath escaped the count's lips. The parchment crinkled softly in his hand as he stood from the edge of the bed, its old frame groaning beneath him. He turned toward Makiar, his expression unreadable, but his voice ready.

"Go out to town, and purchase some black dye. Then place an order to recreate Nadia's cuff. Her new name shall be ... Lila. I expect it to be complete within three hours from now. Take it to my study when it's finished."

"Very well, my Lord. Shall I inform the Lady to await a reply to Her Majesty?"

"No, simply tell her that the contents of the letter have been noted and send her on her way."

"Yes, my Lord."

Makiar offered a low bow and stepped out just as Lady Skye appeared in the doorway. Her pale green dress whispered across the floor, the hem brushing softly against his furred legs as they passed. She lifted the trailing fabric in her slender fingers, gathering it with the grace of someone born to such gestures, and slipped into the room like a breeze scented with lilies.

"Skye," said Rallian. "I have some important business to attend. Finish packing your mother's things for me. I'll endeavor to return before you're finished."

"Yes, Father," Skye replied.

She tucked a strand of her bright turquoise locks behind a pointy elf ear, her fingers lingering at the twisted ends, absently toying with them as she crossed the room. Without a word, she knelt beside her lady's maid, the two of them falling into a quiet rhythm of folding, smoothing, and packing garments.

※

Nadia and Garnet stepped into their room, the soft glow of Garnet's chamberstick casting long shadows across the darkened walls. The quiet hum of the castle still echoed faintly in their ears after the long tour. Then there was a gentle tap at the window, and both heads turned sharply toward the sound. Nadia recognized Rein immediately.

"Rein Bow!" She bolted to the window to let the pixie inside.

"Nadia!" Rein said.

"You know a pixie?" Garnet's eyes twinkled at the sight of Rein in her bedroom.

"She's a family friend," Nadia explained.

"I swear, Nadia," said Rein. "I will get you out of this as soon as possible."

"How?"

"I'm not sure yet, but I'll figure something out and I'll get help. I don't have all the pieces together, but I think the count is trying to start a war and is using you as collateral. He sent a note to King Darren under Klaris's name asking for the kingdom if they want you back."

"You know the king and queen?" Garnet asked Nadia.

"No, I was just supposed to go live with them, but I never made it," Nadia answered. "The queen doesn't want me there."

"Indeed, but I doubt she wishes for a war between her kingdom and another's," Rein surmised. "Hopefully something changes when she finds out about what her friend is up to." She glanced at Garnet. "Can she be trusted?"

"What?" said Garnet. "I can keep a secret. Just don't tell anyone I know about it if it's found out."

Rein paused. "Fair enough." She turned back to Nadia, and pulled a golden ear cuff from her satchel. "Wear this over your right ear to hide the chip. It's a tell-tale sign that you're cursed, and we can't have the count knowing about it."

"You're cursed?" Garnet asked, the smile fading from her face.

"No one else can know of this," Rein stressed.

"My lips are sealed."

"Good. Nadia, where's the ball?"

"I left it in that cave by the Aquamarine," Nadia answered.

"You what?" Rein exclaimed.

"It's buried, it's safe!"

"You'd better hope it is! Next chance you get, you need to go get it. We must find a better place to hide it."

There was a knock on the bedroom door, and Rein flew off to avoid being seen.

"Nadia?" came Alik's voice.

"Yes?"

"Your master wishes your presence in his study."

Nadia was about to step out of the bedroom when she realized she was still dressed in her dirty clothes. "May I change first, sir?"

There was a moment of silence on the other side of the door. "Be quick."

Garnet pulled a purple bedleh from her wardrobe and handed it to Nadia. The fabric whispered like shadows as Nadia slipped it on. It hung a little loose at the shoulders and hips, but it would suffice for the time being. She slipped the cuff Rein provided over her ear, the cool metal pressing lightly against her skin.

With a steadying breath, she followed Alik through the halls to the count's study. When she entered and dipped into a curtsy, her eyes flicked up to meet the storm-dark expression on Count Rallian's face. The knot in her stomach tightened.