Scala

Clover turns to me. “Shall I bid her enter?” The thrax have all sorts of funny rituals; anything related to the King and Queen gets downright hilarious.

I almost say ‘shall we stop talking like we’re clones of Shakespeare?’ But I stop myself. “One sec.” I smooth out my Scala robes. “Okay, now I’m ready.”

Clover pulls the hefty door open, revealing Lincoln’s mother standing in the hallway beyond. Octavia looks gorgeous in a black velvet gown embroidered with silver thread.

I never can remember the thrax ritual for greeting royalty, so I do what I always do. Make it up. “Hey, Octavia. How’s it going?”

Octavia makes shoo-fingers at Clover. “Go find somewhere to be useful.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” Clover curtsies. “I’ll put fresh linens on the Great Scala’s bed.”

Octavia steps up behind me, setting her dainty hands firmly on my shoulders. She meets my gaze through the little mirror at my make-up desk. “I came by because I simply couldn’t wait. I have excellent news for you.”

My face brightens. “What’s that?”

“I’ve made an inquiry into the status of the Royal Vaults.”

Butterflies start doing their pitter-patter thing in my belly. Royal Vaults? She can only be talking about one thing. Lincoln’s search for the Rixa betrothal jewels.

“I’m so sorry for the delay, my dear,” says Octavia, shaking her head. “Not able to find the jewels? Ridiculous. Turns out, all the guards and staff at the Vaults were from the same House.”

“Let me guess. Acca?” Anger winds through my arms; I so want to punch something. Instead, I grab a brush, ready to go to town on my hair. I barely raise the thing from the tabletop when I snap the handle in two.

“Oops.” My cheeks flush with embarrassment. “Didn’t realize that was so dainty.”

“Don’t worry about it, my dear. I have similar reactions to Acca all the time. To answer your previous question, yes, they were absolutely behind the troubles at the Vaults. I had them all thrown in the dungeons, but they left things in a terrible mess. Catalog cards wrong, safes moved around, that kind of thing. Clearly, it’s some kind of ploy to stall out your betrothal. Now, my people are cleaning things up. They’ll find the jewels soon.” She gives my shoulders a squeeze. “I’m very excited for both of you.”

Acca, at it again. Unbelievable. I flex my fingers, my hands itching to break something else on the table.

“Octavia, can I be honest with you?”

“Always, my dear.”

“Why isn’t there in inquiry into these things? Acca should be disbanded or something.”

“I’ve been trying to do that for twenty years, but the King…” She exhales a long sigh. “He favors Acca, we’ll leave it at that. Perhaps with you and Lincoln together, you can give him the strength to stand up to them. Maybe he’ll become the man he once was when I married him.”

An image flashes in my mind. The look on Octavia’s face when she first spied me on the battle practice grounds in Purgatory. “Me and Lincoln teaming up against Acca. You’ve been planning this all along, haven’t you?”

“Of course, child. I should’ve thought that obvious.”

I let out a nervous laugh. “Not that obvious.”

“Give it time, you’ll learn the chess game that is statecraft in Antrum. Besides, the two of you are so well suited. I can’t imagine a better match for my son.”

“Wow. Thanks.” My blush returns, a little deeper this time. Octavia’s never said sweet stuff like this before. Makes me feel all squishy inside.

“By the way,” adds Octavia. “Any luck getting your powers returned?”

“Not yet, but I’m not worried. It looks like Adair has to agree to give me my igni back, but I’ll wheedle them out of her. I still have plenty left to do the iconigration tomorrow, and that’s the important thing.”

“As long as you’re confident, then I’m pleased.” She kisses my cheek. “See you in the ballroom.”

A nervous twinge rolls up my belly. That’s right. The ballroom. I need to finish getting ready and how.

“I’ll see you there, Octavia. And thanks for throwing the Ball in the first place.”

Laughter hides in her mismatched eyes. “Liar. You hate formal events. But I appreciate a well-intentioned fib, same as the next woman. You can come out now, Clover.” Octavia whips through the door; it closes behind her with a soft click.

My ladies’ maid peeps her head in from the bedroom. “Your Highness?”

“She’s gone.”

Clover lets out a visible sigh of relief. “Our Queen is not a little frightening.”

“Oh, she’s pretty cool when you get to know her.”

“My, my. I’ve lost track of time. We don’t want you to be late.” Clover rushes to stand behind me again. “Where were we? I’m afraid the royal visit has me a little flustered.”

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