“It’s fine,” Willow muttered, adjusting the bodice herself. “But why are you so jumpy?”
Poppy’s eyes darted toward Aesra, then quickly away. She leaned in under the guise of fixing Willow’s collar and whispered, barely audible, “She’s a Secret Sister. Don’t you know?”
Willow blinked. “What’s a—”
“Enough,” Aesra said without raising her voice. “Come along, mortal.”
Willow looked to Poppy for help.
Poppy gave her a tragic look and mouthed,Good luck,with the solemnity of someone watching a calf led to market.
Willow smothered a laugh and followed Aesra through the open doorway.
The heels of Aesra’s boots rang down the corridor, her stride unwavering. She moved like a rhinoceros in a parade, which begged the question: How could anyone that loud be secretive?
Willow followed Aesra through towering doors and into a grand dining hall. The table stretched the length of the room and was already laden with dishes: glistening slices of candied root, bowls of berries nestled in clouds of cream, pastries shaped like swans mid-flight.
Servants moved through the space with impressive precision. One poured a pitcher of sapphire fizz that hissed against the glass and spilled over the rim. Another glided forward, unfolding a napkin to catch the droplets before they touched the floor.
At the head of the table, Severine sat in a gown of scarlet silk. Her earrings, Willow saw, were made of bone—small and pale, the same kind used for the clasps on Willow’s own dress.
“Good morning, little one,” Severine said, beckoning her forward. “Eat. Eat.”
Willow took her seat and selected a pale berry from the nearest platter. Its skin burst against her tongue, releasing something sweet and dark.
“Delicious,” she said, careful to match Severine’s tone. “Thank you.”
Willow picked up a second item—something she mistook for bacon but which revealed itself to be faintly furry, as though it had once worn a velvet pelt. She didn’t ask what it was... or what it hadoncebeen. Best not to.
“Tell me,” Severine said, dabbing her mouth with a napkin. “Did you sleep well? Are you comfortable? Are your attendants to your liking?”
“Oh—yes,” Willow said quickly. “Poppy’s absolutely amazing. She arranged everything in the wardrobe by color and texture. Like, there’s one section for ‘hushed mornings’ and another for ‘public weeping.’” Willow paused. “Not that I’m anticipating any public weeping. But Poppy—yes, she’s brilliant.”
“And Jace?”
“She’s great too,” Willow said. “There was a carafe of hot chocolate waiting by my bed this morning, which I assume she placed there. I didn’t even hear her come in.”
“You didn’t drink it?” Severine asked lightly.
Willow hesitated. “I would have, but... I didn’t have time, actually.” Her eyes flicked to Aesra. “I didn’t want to be late.”
Severine followed Willow’s gaze to see who was the subject of her interest. She turned back and smiled. “Yes. Aesra is punctual.”
“Very.”
“Punctuality is part of order, and Aesra believes in order. As do I. The cords must hold, or everything frays.”
Willow nodded like she understood.
Severine reached for a fig, split it with her fingers, and studied its glistening heart. “I’m glad to hear the girls are serving you well. Poppy and Jace are wildlings, you know. Brought in from the southern stretch. Untamed at first, but quick to learn.”
She took a delicate bite. “Every realm needs a little chaos—so long as the chaos knows when to kneel.”
As if summoned, Jace appeared beside Willow’s chair, her sleeves rolled to the elbow. Her forearms were ringed with ink: vines and stars and something half-hidden that had wings. She poured from a carafe of amber tea, her copper hair catching thelight. Her eyes met Willow’s just for a beat, and then she bowed and vanished.
Beyond the table, the double doors creaked open, and a girl passed through—slight and shuffling, her clothes stained. One bare foot dragged a little. The other curled oddly, twisted at the arch. She carried a tray of dirty napkins and didn’t look up.
Aesra stepped forward, blocking Willow’s line of sight. “More tea?” she asked briskly.
