By the time the sun was high in the air, our stock was gone. I helped Lana pack up. When she started toward the path to Miriam’s shop, I stopped her.
“You really ought to come back with me,” I said, holding her elbow. “Papa has been asking to see you.”
I could see the conflicting emotions on her face. When she didn’t reply, I said, “Maybe he’ll tell you all about Aquatia.”
The muscles on her arm eased, though her expression didn’t change. “What makes you think I’d ask him, of all people?”
“AuntLana.”
She heaved a sigh. “Very well, if you’ll stop pestering me. But don’t expect anything out of it,” she said, turning around.
I beamed.
––––––––
PAPA WAS IN HIS STUDYwhen I returned home with my aunt in tow.
I led her through the pristine parlor and up the stairs, past my stepmother’s room and down the hall. Lydia had made herself scarcer than ever since Papa returned, though I suspected it was because she was channeling all her energy into planning Genevieve’s wedding.
It was lucky for both of us, as my stepmother was still a bundle of nerves around magic. Plus, she still hadn’t forgiven me for not marrying Crown Prince Bennett. The last thing I needed was my stepmother’s hysterics when she saw an actual witch from Witch Village in the house.
“So. Here we are,” I said, gesturing to the mahogany door of Papa’s study. Lana stood before it, looking as if she had tasted something sour.
I gave her a look and knocked lightly against the wood. “Papa?”
“Come in.”
He was at his desk per usual, his spectacles low on his nose. He looked up at my entrance.
“Done helping your aunt, my flower?” he said.
“Even better,” I said, opening the door wider to reveal my companion. “I brought her.”
Lana stood as stiffly as ever. I tugged her inside. Surprise flashed across Papa’s face, but melted into a welcoming smile.
“Lana,” he said.
“Julien.”
My crystal glowed, warming my skin. Both Mama and I knew that their conversation must be had alone. I backed out of the study and closed the door, humming as I made my way down to the gardens. Just as I passed the marigold bushes, I spotted a mail boy standing behind the gates.
“Letter for Miss Amarante Flora,” the boy said, holding out an envelope.
I trotted over and took the letter, recognizing the royal seal. “Thank you,” I said, turning on my heel.
I had barely touched the wax before the mail boy said, “Did you really kill the evil duchess with your witch magic, miss?”
I held back a smile. It seemed that the wild rumors about what happened at the masquerade hadn’t ceased entirely.
“No one killed anybody,” I said, turning back and putting my hands on my hips. Duchess Wilhelmina had been sentenced to a lifetime in prison immediately after the masquerade. The king and queen had pardoned her life on behalf of their previous friendship. She deserved much, much worse, in my opinion, but I wasn’t going to discuss my thoughts on justice with a little boy. “Now run along. Idleness rots the mind.”
The boy pouted but complied. When his figure was a mere dot at the far end of the street, I went back inside and opened my envelope. It was a note from Queen Cordelia, summoning me to the palace.
Lana descended from the stairs just as I read the letter twice over.
“Well,” she said, tucking her hands behind her back. “I suppose investing in a horse and cart isn’t a bad idea after all.”
