Flame in the Palace

11. Appearance

At Queen Eloria's suggestion, Myria takes a few moments to collect herself. She smoothes over her facial features and straightens her posture. Finally, her legs find some strength—perhaps the inner strength that Eloria had recognized—and rejoins the queen's retinue. She holds her head high, shoulders straight, and plasters on a carefree, natural smile plastered on her face. The others turn to her, watching her curiously as she exits the temple alone. But Myria does not let their critical gazes crack the courtier's smile she has in place. She strides to her carriage with her aunt and friends, settling in her seat, a picture of grace and confidence.

She hears Brigid and Eulalia discussing their own time with the queen, recounting a much different experience from Myria's.

"She inspires such confidence," Brigid gushes. "She makes me feel as though I can accomplish anything."

"And she's quite eloquent," Eulalia agrees. "She described my strength and flaws as if she's known me my entire life."

Brigid and Eulalia continue sharing what the queen had said of their attributes. Eulalia's kindness and Brigid's generosity are recognized as their strong suits, with insecurity and timidity as their weaknesses, respectively. The white noise of their conversation is suddenly halted, as if in anticipation, making Myria turn to see their expectant faces.

"What did the queen say of your attributes, Lady Myria?" Brigid asks, perhaps repeating herself.

Her mind returns to the tense exchange in the temple, and Myria clears her throat to answer. "She said my strength and weakness were much of the same vein. Strength of spirit and physical strength, but my passion paves the way for lack of restraint."

The others regard this information with rapt acuity. Myria does not rejoin the conversation, keeping her eyes trained on the faces of the people they pass. They all denote some level of struggle, a life hardened by the misfortune of their birth. The faraway glaze of their eyes suggests but a dim hope for a better life. Nothing like the privilege she suddenly finds herself surrounded with.

Sensing someone watching her, Myria glances up and meets Olympe's eyes, her aunt's mouth a thin line of calculation. Myria musters the diplomatic smile, but it feels weak in her aunt's face, someone who has suffered on her own through the courtly life of deception and gilded lies.

Mercifully, Olympe does not draw attention to Myria's gloom, only tightening her eyes in suspicion. The wagon continues its return to the palace without interruption as Brigid and Eulalia continue singing the queen's praises. When they arrive at the castle once more, Myria quickly dismounts the wagon, barely aware of how Queen Eloria offers a last few parting words of wisdom to the ladies of the court. She ducks away before anyone notices her absence, the queen's voice becomes more distant.

But someone catches her inside, just as she reaches the staircase. "Lady Myria," Eulalia's voice calls behind. "Will I see you at dinner tonight?"

Myria pauses for a moment, her face fixed in front, her hand frozen on the banister. The same dread she had felt in the Wizard's Tower fills her stomach again. She imagines an unpleasant evening surrounded by the nobility, even with the balming presence of her friend. She turns slowly, steeling her chest in preparation to answer.

But Olympe is suddenly there at her elbow, placing a firm hand on her back, and answers in her stead. "I'm afraid House Bramble will be taking a private supper tonight, Lady Runewell. We have much to do to prepare Myria for the rest of the social season."

The relief Myria feels makes it easier to turn and smile apologetically at her friend. Eulalia nods, and Olympe quickly whisks Myria away to the seclusion of the Bramble suite.