Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 71403 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71403 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
My mind raced as I entered the chamber. Runes were as easy as Sebastian had promised. The true complication was the man himself, and whatever information he wasn’t sharing with me.
Maybe, if I knew him better, I could puzzle this out.
What did Adelaide say right before my departure? Create space for information to come to you.
“Welcome back, my lady.” Soley greeted me with her usual excitement and an idea sprouted.
I smiled at her. “Soley, darling, I find I’m in need of tea.” If Sebastian couldn’t or wouldn’t tell me about himself, someone else would. “Lots and lots of tea.”
“Oh, já. I’ll head to the kitchen and—”
“Nein, nein. Verbal tea, steeped piping hot. I’d like to meet with the woman in the know. The one who always knows everything about everyone. Every kingdom has one.” Adelaide was the dragon tea maker, in fact.
“Ah. I understand.” Soley nodded, though not with nearly as much enthusiasm. “Já, we have one. But we’ll have to recruit Freyja to negotiate the meeting.”
“That’s fine.” As long as she didn’t refuse. “Please arrange it as soon as possible.”
Chapter
Eight
Accept the invitation at your peril. Decline at your doom.
–An Incomplete Guide to Kraken Survival
“This is highly irregular,” Freyja complained.
And yet, here we were, headed to my inaugural gossip session with someone named Lady Harpa, which told me something my personal assistant hadn’t. Sebastian had instructed Freyja to follow my orders rather than his schedule.
My desires mattered to him.
He was a man of contradictions. A cipher missing its key. A key I intended to find. Every bit of knowledge I acquired about him was as valuable to me as a gold coin. More so! Coins could buy many things, even influence, but they couldn’t buy character.
The next time we were together, I hoped to be rich in knowledge. On equal footing with him, considering he knew so much about me.
“I had to cancel a protocol seminar for this,” Freyja added, voice tight. “You are booked solid for the next three days. There can be no more of these… tea drinking sessions. Until you complete your etiquette lessons, you could inadvertently insult someone you shouldn’t. Or accidentally wreck a time-honored tradition.”
“Sebastian will smooth over any mistakes.” Though I didn’t like the thought of him following behind me, fixing whatever I got wrong. I could handle this.
I lifted my chin. “As the king’s… special friend, I have certain liberties and I intend to exercise them. If Sebastian objects, he will come to me directly.” He wasn’t one to withhold complaints.
Freyja missed her next step but quickly righted herself. She cast me a glance over her shoulder and nodded, happy to pass this battle onto someone else. “Já, princess,” she said, her lips maybe, possibly quirking, as if I’d finally broken through the formidable Freyja’s defenses.
Much better.
We passed a gaggle of servants cleaning the hallways. Everyone stopped to watch me, unabashed. Whispers came next.
Danced with the king.
Suite next to his.
Private lesson.
His colors.
I’d felt as if I lived under a microscope my entire life, so being the center of attention wasn’t unusual for me. I met every gaze, chin up, shoulders back. I’d changed into a gown made of handwoven silk with layers of tulle, each embedded with hundreds of tiny crystals, perfect for disguising an interrogation as a social call.
We turned a corner, entering a sitting room that looked as if restraint had lost a war with imagination. Layered silks in the color of deep water draped the walls, pinned back with coral clasps in the shape of coiling tentacles. Low tables overflowed with half-burned candles, teacups in mismatched sets, and stacks of slim books piled at odd angles, as though abandoned mid-thought. A faint scent of bergamot and salt lingered in the air.
A woman who looked to be in both her thirties and sixties reclined across a chaise. Her silver-streaked dark hair had escaped its pins and hung in wild curls around her face, one lock standing straight up in defiance. Her dress was… interesting. A flowing gown of seafoam green layered over plum. The colors clashed unapologetically, while the pearl buttons were fastened incorrectly. One shoe was a delicate slipper embroidered with matching pearls. The other a practical boot, scuffed at the toe.
“Greetings, Lady Harpa,” Freyja said and, shockingly, she appeared intimidated. So intimidated she curtsied. “May I introduce—”
“You may not. I know who she is.” Lady Harpa tipped her teacup in a lazy salute, liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim. “You may leave us.”
Freyja winced, as if she’d just been publicly flogged, and cast me another look, all remember, you asked for this. Then she made a hasty exit.
I followed the assistant’s lead and dipped low, my skirt whispering around my ankles as I gave my best curtsy, honed by years of court and ballet. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Lady Harpa.”