Of Whispers and Daggers ✓ [TLRQ #2]

Chapter 42.1 - Leavi

This empty, fearful castle has transformed into a hive of activity. Ladies send orders to maids, then contradict themselves, and correspond with other nobles all the while. Curiosity stings me with each note run and run back. Their scraps of paper and hurried directions speak of seating arrangements, stage decorations, and scripts. They can't be putting on some sort of mad play while men die on the wall.

"Page!"

Misanette's high voice stops me midstep. I school my face as I turn to face her on the divan. She beckons me over. The other Ladies scattered across the room fill the air with whispered frenzy. My ears catch snippets of words that have bounced around all day—Retrans, princess, diplomacy. It sounds like some foreigners arrived last night, but for some reason, no one seems to be considering chopping their heads off.

Misannete reaches for paper on the tea table, then draws back. Pastry crumbs dot the face of the blank stack. She dusts them off, and they leave oil spots behind. Her hand waves. "Ah, never mind." She looks up at me. "Tell Lady Valaecití that we'll need to change to the blue cushions for the pedestals. Oh!" Her hand ticks up before her like a flighty bird. "And tell her no, we don't need to retrieve the scepter, crown, or robe from the Treasury until the day of. It'd be a shame if someone tried to tamper with them."

Nearby, Lady Temmarelle's hand swipes through the air. "No one's going to tamper with them, Misanette. Better off to have them early so everything's set."

Misanette huffs. "And that's what Valaecití thinks too, but it's not as though no one's done it before! And if someone decides to pull a hoax with the staff, it's not going to be because I was careless."

Temmarelle about chokes on her tea. "If that staff lights up, I'm sure no one will mistake it for something so serious as a hoax. More like"—she sets her tea aside—"a gentle joke."

More of the Ladies are watching now, and a few laugh. A frown curls Misanette's lips. "That's not very kind."

"I don't mean anything by it, of course." Temmarelle crosses her legs. "But it's no secret that he's not exactly..." Her hand feathers the air. "'Chosen one' material. You can't say a thousand years of silence from the staff is going to be broken by a boy who disappeared from his country during a time of war." She smiles sweetly, and my fist curls. "Can you, Misanette?"

The Ladies all watch her, teacups frozen in their laps.

"No," she says finally. "I suppose not. But all the more reason to make sure there's no undue embarrassment at the event."

"Of course, of course." The Lady's hand flicks, and everyone goes back to their tea.

"Here," Misanette says to me, handing over a wooden r'meuring. "I trust you remember the message?"

"Yes, milady." I leave, head swirling, because this clarifies what all their mad arranging is about.

Aster is getting coronated. Soon.