Chapter Forty-Two

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Of all the many things she and Isaiah had to attend to in the aftermath of Dinah's death, there was one Niccola looked forward to with unmitigated glee. Other anticipated moments were tempered by their somber sides. Seeing Meribah Cantor's face when the demi-queen of Varna walked into her palace in full royal garb would be doused by the effect Meribah had on her son. Scribing diplomatic correspondence for Isaiah while they bantered over wording was great fun, but undermined by the gut-dropping anxiety of answering return letters. Niccola and Isaiah spent each morning reading between the lines of new messages, trying to discern if Calis was indeed in good standing with the—rightfully—furious Madeira. An emergency meeting of the inter-realm council would convene in a week's time. Niccola knew they were both ready. But neither of them felt it.

Yet no such downside accompanied the task they now found themselves on the road to, days after their return from the Talakova. Niccola was in a fine mood. Margaret and Verde had not found a dress that fit her among their daughter's clothing, but Verde had been quick to recall that Margaret herself had once shared Niccola's build. A chance inspection of Margaret's wardrobe confirmed this. The dress Niccola now wore was the beautiful, golden yellow of the autumn leaves that cascaded over the lowlands, laying drifts in street corners and filling the air with fall's sweet perfume. It also twirled beautifully. Had she and Isaiah not been walking arm in arm, Niccola was sure she would be dancing like a schoolgirl all the way up the road.

Up the road they were indeed headed, but not as far as the palace. Niccola touched a hand to her hair for what must have been the twentieth time in as many minutes. She was featherless today—saving her full regalia for the palace visit—but the braided Varnic crown she wore was sure to turn heads. Especially where she and Isaiah were going. Isaiah fought a smile as she broke into skipping for a step or two. Her skirt wasn't just twirly. It was swishy, too.

"Are you ready for this?" he said.

Niccola fell back into step and grinned. "Are you?"

"You'll get to wear both your slippers again."

"I plan to wear them all the way home."

Nice shoes were the one thing her outfit lacked. The yellow of the dress and delicate pink of the slippers would not match, but Niccola cared about that as little as she cared about the chill wind poking fingers through the holes of her lighter-yellow cardigan. It was also Margaret's, and the colour had proven several times too sunny to cover up with a jacket. Not that Niccola was particularly cold. It was difficult to be cold when she was excited, walking at the brisk pace she and Isaiah shared, and walking arm in arm with someone she wanted to look pretty with, whether he could see her or not. And all that was discounting the warmth brought on by the joy of spite, which she suspected would soon be the garnish on the whole affair.

"This is it," she said, halting. Pekea perked up. She'd been napping across Isaiah's shoulders, having taken to doing so unless asked whenever they walked together. Niccola and Isaiah had identical strides, and found themselves so attuned to one another after two days of walking everywhere together that Isaiah needed little other guidance. Now the dragon lifted her nose and sniffed in the direction of the manor. She looked thoroughly unimpressed.

"And now," said Niccola, "we find out whether the upper gossip rings have figured out who I am, and if they have, if they informed this household of it and risked tarnishing their own images. I'm betting one of Verde's chicken pot pies on neither."

"I would bet against you, but I have no plans to give up my helping of chicken pot pie tonight." Isaiah tugged their linked arms. "Shall we?"

They strode up the walkway together. Isaiah held himself well no matter where he was, but Niccola relished in adopting her royal demeanor as she rapped the brass knocker against the door. It swung open a moment later. Lady Selah had always been quick to answer.

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