The House of the Stone

The Countess can tell me not to talk or eat but she can’t take away this friendship. That is not in her power.

“But that decision is not up to you,” the old woman in red says to the Electress. “It is the Exetor’s choice, since the line passed through him.”

Ugh, are we still talking about babies? There must be other things they could discuss. Hasn’t anyone, I don’t know, gotten killed in duel recently? That sounds like something that would happen here.

“Of course,” the woman continues, taking a small bite of frizzy lettuce. “You are only a recent addition to the Royal Palace. Perhaps the subtleties of royal succession have not fully been explained.”

So, after babies, the second most popular topic is reminding the Electress that she wasn’t born in the Jewel. This seems exhausting. I thought dinner parties were supposed to be fun.

The Electress stiffens. “Clearly it has been too long since there has been any pleasure in your bedchambers, Ametrine, but there is no more powerful weapon of persuasion than a woman’s body. I am quite capable of changing my husband’s mind.”

Violet blushes, because that’s what Violet does when sex is mentioned, but I have to give credit to the Electress. She certainly made the conversation more interesting.

Footmen come in to clear the plates, and I see Violet shovel a few forkfuls of duck into her mouth. I wonder if she was given the same instructions I was, but her mistress is out of the room, so she’s cheating. Good for her.

“I meant no offense, Your Grace,” the old woman says. “But remember that surrogacy is a very strange thing. You never know precisely what you are going to get. The Augury scores only tell you so much. Perhaps you will end up preferring for your son to succeed the throne.”

“Doubtful,” the Electress replies. She motions to one of the footmen. “Fetch Lucien. Now.”

I’ve pretty much ignored the other surrogates, focusing only on Violet, but now I turn my attention to the young girl seated at the Electress’s side. Her vibrant red hair is piled up in curls on top of her head, and a soft golden gown is draped around her wiry frame. It’s like the Electress was trying to make her appear older, but instead created the opposite effect. She looks like a child who got into her mother’s closet.

I don’t even know her name. I wish I’d thought to ask when I saw her in the Waiting Room. I should have thought to ask.

Then I’m distracted because there’s more food—salmon this time—being put in front of me.

Violet’s mistress returns and curtsies to the Electress.

“My apologies, Your Grace.”

“Oh, no need to apologize. It was rather exciting,” the Electress says. “In comparison, dinners at the Royal Palace are positively dull.”

I load up my fork with salmon, raise it almost to my mouth, then put it back down. I repeat the action again. And again. Technically, this is not against the rules. I haven’t taken a bite yet. But the Countess shifts a bit in her chair. Good. She’s noticed.

Violet is eyeing her mistress with a look of strained impatience. I wonder again what instructions she’s been given as I finally eat the bite of salmon.

Then her face lights up at something behind me. I turn and see another lady-in-waiting enter the room. He’s younger than Frederic but older than Emile. And judging by the look on Violet’s face, I’m willing to bet this was her prep artist.

“Thank you, Lucien,” the Electress says. “Wait here.”

“Of course, my lady.” He places a silver bowl and a walnut on the table, then moves back to stand against the wall. I hold my breath, looking from the walnut to the girl and back again.

I hope the Electress doesn’t make her do what I think she’s going to make her do.

“She was showing me the most magnificent trick earlier,” the Electress says. She turns to her surrogate. “Go on.”

The poor girl’s lip trembles as she picks up the walnut.