Lord Turren finally looked up from his mirror, smoothing his perfectly arranged purple hair. “Your Highness, I must say, that gown is absolutely stunning on you. The deep rose brings out your complexion marvelously. I’m taking notes.”
“Thank you.” Sasha blinked twice, clearly unsure how to respond to that. “I appreciate the observation.”
“The cut is exquisite,” he said, leaning forward. “Who’s your seamstress? I’d love to commission something similar. Perhaps in lavender? Or would that clash with my natural coloring?”
“I think lavender would look wonderful on you,” Sasha said.
Servants appeared, directing pots of fresh tea and platters of food to the table with magic. I watched carefully as they served, noting who touched what and looking for any signs of tampering. Everything appeared normal. The tea smelled right, the food looked properly prepared.
I lifted a cup of tea, inhaling the familiar scent of the spring harvest blend, finding no trace of that wrongness I’d noticed before.
Sasha took primwort again, adding her usual dash of cream.
“I’ve been meaning to ask,” my mother said, buttering a piece of toast, “how are the festival preparations coming along? I know you’ve been occupied with other matters, but we’re running short on time.”
“The preparations are on schedule,” I said. “Though the plant situation is still concerning. We haven’t made much progress there.”
“The cosmic energies have been particularly turbulent lately,” Lady Edwina announced, sweeping into the dining room with Lord Primrose and Lady Daphnie trailing behind her. Her yellow gown jingled with protective amulets as she moved around the table to an empty chair. “My divination stones suggest that we’re approaching a moment of great revelation.” She settled into the chair, her velvet pouch ofstones clutched in one hand. “Though the timing remains unclear.”
“When is the timing ever clear with divination?” Lady Kenneth asked, though her tone held more amusement than criticism.
“The fates reveal their truths in their own timeframe,” Lady Edwina said with dignity. “We merely remain open to receiving their wisdom.”
Lady Lydia Featherby hurried into the dining room, slightly out of breath, her pale-blue gown adorned with tiny, embroidered flowers rustling as she moved. Her braids, woven through with matching blue butterflies, swayed as she settled into a chair near Lady Edwina.
Staff quickly served her tea, and she took a long swallow before placing her cup back in its saucer.
“Good morning, everyone,” she said in a cheery voice. “I’m so sorry I’m late. I was preparing a special digestive tonic for Lord Harwick’s stomach troubles.” She pulled a small collection of vials from her purse and arranged them neatly beside her plate. “Speaking of which, Your Majesty,” she directed this to Sasha, “how are you adjusting to our court cuisine? Sometimes rich fae foods can upset delicate witch constitutions. I have a lovely mint preparation that works wonders for?—”
Her words dissolved into giggles, her eyes widening with alarm as uncontrollable laughter bubbled up from her chest. She pressed a hand to her mouth, looking mortified.
“Oh dear,” she managed between chuckles, reaching for one of her vials with trembling hands. “This is most irregular. I have something for this, I’m certain I do.” But her attempts to select the right remedy were frustrated by continued bursts of laughter that shook her small frame.
The sight of the court’s caretaker dissolving intohelpless giggles made the situation both concerning and absurd.
Lady Featherby swallowed hard and wiggled her neck for a moment before her face cleared. “Good, it’s gone.”
Maybe this wasn’t related to our court’s giggling problem.
Lord Primrose, who’d claimed the seat beside Lady Featherby, pressed his hand against his chest. “My dearest Daphnie and I were just discussing the most romantic aspects of morning dew on rose petals. Like tears of joy shed by the garden itself, celebrating the eternal dance of passion and devotion.”
“I told him it was more like diamonds scattered by a generous lover,” Lady Daphnie, who sat on his other side, said. She tapped his arm with the tip of her jeweled fan. “Each droplet is a precious gift bestowed upon nature’s beauty.”
“Both interpretations hold merit,” Lord Primrose said. “Which is why we’re so perfectly matched. Our souls speak the same poetic language, just with different metaphors.”
Sasha caught my eye, amusement dancing in her eyes. I bit back a smile.
“The lemon cakes are exceptional this morning,” my mother said. “Alaina and her staff have outdone themselves.”
“I’ll try them.” I added one to my plate and one to Sasha’s at her nod.
I took a bite of eggs, savoring the perfectly seasoned flavor. Everything tasted normal. No hint of anything off or wrong.
Sasha ate as well, working through her breakfast with the same approach she applied to everything. Lord Turren consulted his mirror between every few bites. LadyKenneth discussed weapon maintenance techniques with my mother, who listened with the patience of someone who’d survived decades of court conversations.
“The indigo stone is showing unusual energy patterns,” Lady Edwina said, studying the stones she’d strewn out beside her plate. “Combined with the rose quartz positioning, this suggests imminent emotional upheaval. Or perhaps unexpected joy? The distinction is sometimes difficult to determine.”
“Perhaps both,” Lady Daphnie said. “Like the bittersweet ache of a lover’s farewell before a joyous reunion.”
