“Oh, yes. That pianoforte will go quite well next to the other in the bathing chamber. Thank you.”
The four men wheeling the instrument through the parlor door smile.
“Yes, Your Highness. Right away.”
I step back to allow them more space, and though nearly a dozen other servants are working furiously to widen the path to the bathing chamber, it’s going to be a tight squeeze. This piano is larger than the last. Still, no one seems miffed. On the contrary, a fresh trio of giggling maids bearing stacks of Tirenthian history sweeps into the room and beams at me.
“Where would you like these, Princess Serah?” one of them asks.
I wave a hand to encompass the chaos, ducking once as a parrot passes overhead. “Anywhere you please.”
Smiling, they move on. While I do wish to make a statement, I don’t want my attempt at doing so to sour my relationship with the palace staff, but everyone seems satisfied with the reward I offered in exchange for their help.
I pause to reflect on the progress. The second piano should fill the bathing chamber to capacity. My bedchamber is coming along nicely as well. At this rate, we’ll all be squeezed out in the next half hour. I press my lips together to keep from smiling.
It’s difficult to stay in a room you cannot fit inside of.
Every now and then, Ty pokes his head in but makes no comment with his hands. Rally appears to be elsewhere at the moment. I wonder how long it will be until the king hears of this. A touch of nervousness steals through me at the thought.
“Princess Serah!”
My name is snapped out with all the ire of someone whose orderly life has been upended. When I lean pastthe doorframe, I find a red-faced majordomo marching my way.
“Oiken,” I say, moving aside for a man cradling a potted cactus, “how lovely to see you again.”
Oiken cuts a curt bow, his breath gusting out of him. He is a thin man, but I suspect he finds running uncouth and rarely partakes in it.
“I’m told you’ve asked for a camel,” he says, the final word forced from clenched teeth.
“Indeed, with the stipulation that only an animal who might enjoy an excursion to my chambers be brought. I don’t wish to frighten the poor thing.”
“May I remind you,” Oiken says, “there are stairs.”
“Ah,” I say, as if the thought never occurred to me. “You’re very right. More peacocks should do then.” With effort, I withhold the laugh that bubbles up.
Truly, I don’t know what’s come over me.
Oiken’s mouth flattens to the point of disappearance. “Morepeacocks?”
“Yes, the first flock is enjoying a feast of goji berries on the balcony. Would you like to see them? I’m told they’re having a fine time.”
“This is unseemly,” he hisses.
I think of replying that so is keeping a woman locked in her room, but at that very moment, all conversation ceases.
Because the floor is shaking.
The tremor travels up the soles of my feet, reverberates through my bones, then stops. As one, the servants freeze in place and glance at one another with wide eyes. One maid sinks beneath a table.
My throat tightens.
The tremor returns, nearer this time. Then again, nearer once more, like the footsteps of some enormous beast. When I gather my courage and peer out into the hallway, I see no one but Ty, who winces.
“Good day, Princess,” Oiken says, and when I look to him, he spins around and strides off.
I suppose I deserve that.
The trembling continues, and though my knees are quaking, I stand my ground and await the dragon’s arrival.
