She scowled again, squinting at her reflection as she angled the bottom of a polished copper pot to see her entire body. She wore a gown that Malikel commanded she have made for diplomatic occasions. It was made of soft emerald silk and gathered with a velvet ribbon just below her bust. The same ribbon, a darker shade of green than the fabric, trimmed her sleeves, neckline, and hem. The cost of the dress would have covered her lodging for a month, but it was hard to maintain a proper sense of guilt at the extravagance when the silk fell so lightly around her feet.
Idalee, who had tied Kyra’s hair into a simple twist, stood to the side with her arms crossed and a smug grin on her face. She’d recently started washing dishes at a nearby tavern and had clearly picked up some tricks from the more fashionable serving girls. Lettie sat at the table, legs dangling and mouth open in a small O as she stared at Kyra.
And Flick, of course, was whistling.
“Will you stop that?” Kyra said. “You’ll annoy the landlady.”
“And besides,” said Idalee, “Kyra looks too fine tonight to be whistled at.”
“That’s right,” Kyra said. “Another whistle from you and I’ll have one of my manservants toss you in the gutter.”
Flick snorted. “Watch yourself, lass. I can still hang you upside down by your ankles.”
Kyra stifled a giggle. It had been a while since Flick had tried that particular trick, but she imagined he’d be able to if he put his mind to it.
“You do look very pretty, Kyra,” piped up Lettie. “I wish I could see the ball.”
“Me too,” said Flick. “Seems it’d be quite the spectacle.”
“You, Flick?” said Idalee. “I thought you wanted nothing to do with the wallhuggers.”
Flick shrugged. “Just because I don’t like shoveling peacock manure doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate their plumage.”
Her friends might have been intrigued by the ball, but Kyra herself was terrified. Perhaps her friends thought her glamorous, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to keep up the act once she went into the ballroom. What did she know about nobles and foreign visitors? The night would end in humiliation. She’d bet money on it.
She slipped on her shoes, velvet as well, and wiggled her toes at their softness. “I just hope I don’t get kicked out of the Palace for some breach of manners,” she said, heading out the door.
Kyra dodged the usual assortment of street vendors, servants, and beggars on her way to the Palace. She got a few curious looks, but nobody gave her any trouble.
The Palace gate was ornamented with winterberries and candles for the occasion. When the guard challenged her, Kyra reached inside her collar and brought out a medallion that bore Malikel’s emblem.
“Malikel’s command?” He waved her in.
Kyra fingered the medallion, running her fingers over the coat of arms before letting it drop. She respected Malikel and believed he respected her in return. The rest of the Council though, was another matter altogether. That was clear enough in their hurry to ban her from seeing James or even entering the Palace prison. The Council wanted her as a trained dog, a thief on a leash. They wouldn’t say no to her skills, but they were quick to cut her off if they sensed her becoming a threat.
The outer compound looked finer tonight than Kyra had ever seen it. Extra torches and lamps had been brought out to light the pathway, and the gray-white granite walls of the buildings had been scrubbed until they shone. Even the snow, which had started to turn into muddy slush the past few days, had been cleared out and the ground underneath covered with fine rugs. Fire pits had been set up at regular distances so that guests could move about comfortably without heavy cloaks or furs.