— CHAPTER TWO —

  The Ambassador

  Three hours with the royal stylist had left my scalp aching and my patience thin. My hair had been pulled, pinned, and piled atop my head in an architectural feat that would have impressed the kingdom's finest engineers. The crown - a delicate circlet of platinum and diamonds - sat nestled within the elaborate coiffure. I stood perfectly still as Elara fastened the last of twenty-seven pearl buttons running down the back of my gown.

  "There, Your Majesty." Elara said, her voice barely audible above the chaos erupting beyond my chamber doors. "You look..." Her words trailed off as our eyes met in the mirror.

  I saw myself as she did - draped in midnight blue silk that shimmered with embedded charge crystals, catching and amplifying the light with each breath I took. The bodice was embroidered with silver thread in the pattern of magnolia blossoms, while the full skirt skimmed against the carpet as I turned. The ensemble was completed by white gloves that reached past my elbows and a choker of diamonds that matched my crown.

  "Like a queen." I finished for her, forcing a smile. "Which is precisely the point, isn't it? ... I mean, thank you, Elara. You've done marvelous work, as always."

  A knock interrupted whatever response she might have given. Lady Marigold's head lady-in-waiting poked her head through the door. "The reception begins in twenty minutes, Your Majesty. Lady Marigold is asking for you in the east lounge."

  I nodded, and she disappeared as quickly as she had arrived. Taking a deep breath, I gathered my composure and stepped into the hallway.

  The palace corridors had transformed into a battlefield. Servants darted between rooms carrying flowers, linens, and silver platters. Footmen stood at attention, waiting to direct the incoming flood of nobility. A maid nearly collided with me, her arms full of freshly pressed napkins, before recognizing me and flattening herself against the wall with a hurried curtsy.

  "Careful of Her Majesty's dress!" snapped one of my handmaidens, holding the train of my gown aloft to avoid the staff's feet.

  I smiled reassuringly at the terrified maid. "No harm done."

  Two more attendants fell in around me, creating a protective bubble around my person as we navigated the preparations. Everywhere I looked, last-minute adjustments were being made - a team polishing the windows looking out to the courtyard, a decorator repositioning a vase of flowers for the seventh time, a young page practicing his bow before the mirror, a steward scolding a footman for scuffing the runner. I didn't want to get in their way, so I hurried at as brisk a walk as could be managed.

  The east lounge stood just aside and half a floor above the Grand Hall, its doors propped open to the corridor. Inside, Lady Marigold stood in the eye of the storm, clipboard in hand as she directed the final touches. Her gown tonight was amber brocade trimmed with gold lace, and she wore a black rose to signify her status as a widower. A phalanx of servants presented samples for her approval: platters of canapés, garlands of fresh flowers, towers of fragile spun sugar.

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  "The crystal glasses go on the NORTH side of the hall!" she barked at a quivering steward. "And make sure the charge crystals in the chandeliers are synchronized to change color on the hour, not randomly like last time. We're welcoming diplomats, not hosting a tavern light show! No, no, no! Take it to the kitchens, tell them to use only the white violas for the salads, and - ah! Your Majesty!"

  Her eyes snapped to me as I entered, her expression softening into a broad smile. She circled me slowly, a hawk inspecting its territory. "Turn, please."

  I complied, rotating in place while she scrutinized every thread, pin, and curl.

  "That hairpin on the left is visible." she said. "Fix it." An attendant immediately stepped forward to adjust the offending pin. "And your posture, Your Majesty - shoulders back, chin lifted. Remember, you are not merely a woman tonight; you are Magnolia incarnate."

  I straightened my spine. It felt like I would tip backward with the weight of my hair and crown. Lady Marigold's eyes narrowed.

  "Better. Now, to review the guest list once more-"

  "I've memorized it, Lady Marigold." I assured her, reciting from memory: "Lord and Lady Ashcroft from the northern provinces, Lord Pembroke and his new wife - formerly Miss Evelyn Hallewell, daughter of the merchant - the Duchesses of Westmere, Ambassador Bellamy and the Alba Colles delegation..."

  Lady Marigold nodded stiffly. "Very good. The Great Hall awaits you, Your Majesty."

  I proceeded toward the double doors that led to the Great Hall's east mezzanine. Two footmen bowed deeply and pulled them open to reveal the chamber beyond.

  The tall windows to the courtyard were thrown open to the night, letting in a cool breeze and the hum of distant voices from the grounds. Each column was wrapped in flowering vines, their petals colored in subtle gradations of blue and pink and violet. Hundreds - no, thousands - of faerie lights hovered overhead, channeling their glow into the crystal chandeliers, which in turn scattered the light in celestial patterns across the polished floor and gave the room a prismatic glow. Along the periphery, arrangements of magnolia boughs lined the chiseled arches of the alcoves.

  The floor had been cleared for the later entertainment, and the musicians were tuning their instruments on the west mezzanine.

  "It's beautiful." I said.

  "Only the best for Magnolia's Queen... and her guests." Marigold motioned me to the stairs and returned to supervising the preparations.

  I stepped down to the floor and crossed to the entryway, where a pair of footmen in deep navy livery stood at attention, each holding a silver-tipped staff. Beyond them, past the darkness of the vestibule, the sound of the crowd grew. I forced my face into the serene, composed smile I had practiced so many times in the mirror.

  The head butler emerged from the front. From his coat's inner pocket, he produced a large bell and a rod with which to thwack it. The sound pierced through the commotion of the decorators. "Places, everyone! The doors open in two minutes!" He bowed to me and continued across the room to hurry along the staff clearing the scene.

  The musicians began their opening refrain - a gentle, swirling overture. Lady Marigold closed the lounge doors and came to take her position a few paces behind me. "Steady on, Your Majesty."

  "Lord and Lady Ashcroft of the Northern Provinces!"

  An elderly couple entered, he leaning on an ornate cane, she draped in furs despite the mild evening.

  "Lord Ashcroft, Lady Ashcroft, how delightful to see you again." I said warmly, extending my hand. "How fares your grandson at the Academy? Still excelling in runic engineering, I trust?"

  Lord Ashcroft's weathered face creased with pleasure. "Indeed, Your Majesty! Young Thomas has just received commendation for his thesis on crystal stabilization techniques."

  "Remarkable! You must be very proud."

  And so it continued. I greeted each noble by name, inquired after their families, their lands, their interests - all cataloged in my memory through years of practice. Behind each smile and handshake lay hours of study: who had feuded with whom, which compliments would please, which topics to avoid.