“A lot can be done in that time, Your Ladyship,” he assured her.
Amilia still found it awkward, even embarrassing, to be referred to as “Your Ladyship” or “my lady.” Nimbus, who had always followed proper protocol, insisted on referring to her formally. His mannerisms rubbed off on the other members of the castle staff. Maids and pages, who only months earlier had laughed and made fun of Amilia, took to bowing and curtsying to her. Even Ibis Thinly had begun addressing Amilia as Her Ladyship. The attention was flattering, but it could also be fleeting. Amilia was a noble in name only. She could lose her title just as easily as it had been won—and that was exactly what would happen in less than an hour.
“All right, wait outside,” she ordered. “I’ll hand you the dress to take to the seamstress. Your Eminence, can I please have the gown?”
Modina raised her arms as if in a trance and two handmaidens immediately went to work undoing the numerous buttons and hooks.
Amilia’s stomach churned. She had done everything possible in the time allotted. Modina had been surprisingly cooperative and easily memorized and repeated the speech Saldur had provided, which was mercifully short and easy to remember. Modina’s role was remarkably simple. She would step onto the balcony, recite the words, and withdraw. The whole process would only take a few minutes, yet Amilia was certain of an impending disaster.
Despite all the preparations, Modina simply was not ready. The empress had only recently showed signs of lucidity and managed to follow directions, but no more than that. In many ways, she reminded Amilia of a dog. Trained to sit and stay, a pup would do as it was told when the master was around, but how many could maintain their composure when left on their own? A squirrel passing by would break their discipline and off they would go. Amilia was not permitted on the balcony, and if anything unexpected happened, there was no telling how the empress would react.
Amilia took the elaborate gown to Nimbus. “Make it quick. I don’t want to be here with an empress clad only in her undergarments when the bell strikes.”
“I will run like the wind, my lady,” he said with a forced smile.
“What are you doing out here?” Regent Saldur asked.
Nimbus made a hasty bow, then ran off with the empress’s gown.
The regent was lavishly dressed for the occasion, which made him even more intimidating than usual. “Why aren’t you in with the empress? There is less than an hour before the presentation.”
“Yes, Your Grace, but there are some last-minute prep—”
Saldur took her angrily by the arm and dragged her inside the staging room. Modina was wrapped in a robe and the two handmaidens fussed with her hair. They both stopped abruptly and curtsied. Saldur took no notice.
“Must I waste my time impressing on you the importance of this day?” he said while roughly releasing her. “Outside this palace, all of Aquesta is gathering, as well as dignitaries from all over Warric and even ambassadors from as far away as Trent and Calis. It’s paramount that they see a strong, competent empress. Has she learned the speech?”
“Yes, Your Grace,” Amilia replied with a bowed head.
Saldur examined the empress in her disheveled robe and unfinished hair. He scowled and whirled on Amilia. “If you ruin this—if she falters—I’ll hold you personally responsible. A single word from me and you’ll never be seen again. Given your background, I won’t even have to create an excuse. No one will question your disappearance. No one will even notice you’re gone. Fail me, Amilia, and I’ll see you deeply regret it.”
He left, slamming the door behind him and leaving Amilia barely able to breathe.
“Your Ladyship?” the maid Anna addressed her.
“What is it?” she asked weakly.
“It’s her shoe, milady. The heel has come loose.”
What else could go wrong?
On any ordinary day, nothing like this would happen, but that day, because her life depended on it, problems followed one upon another. “Get it to the cobbler at once and tell him if it isn’t fixed in twenty minutes, I’ll—I’ll—”
“I will tell him to hurry, milady.” Anna ran from the room, shoe in hand.
Amilia began to pace. The room was only twenty feet long, causing her to turn frequently, which made her dizzy, but she continued it anyway. Her body was reacting unconsciously while her mind flew over every aspect of the ceremony.
What if she leaps off the balcony?
The thought hit her like a slap. As absurd as it seemed, it was possible. The empress was not of sound mind. With the noise and confusion of thousands of excited subjects, Modina could become overwhelmed and simply snap. The balcony was not terribly high, only thirty feet or so. The fall might not kill the empress if she landed well. Amilia, on the other hand, would not survive the incident.
Sweat broke out on her brow as her pacing quickened.
There was no time to put up a higher rail.