Lucie glanced at Kazrian. He glanced at her. His hair was still doing that absurd thing on one side, and she looked away before she could dwell on exactly how endearing it was.
A moment later, Lady Rivenna returned. Through the window, Lucie saw the dragonfly go streaking past.
“It seems,” Lady Rivenna said, “that the High Lady has arrived in Bloomhaven. She is now in residence at Solstice Hall, no doubt overseeing preparations for tomorrow evening’s Opening Ball. And she has heard talk of The Honeycomb’s confections.” A pause. The faintest curve of satisfaction touched her mouth. “Which is, of course, precisely what we want. As a result, the High Lady will be sending her herald back this afternoon, between four and five, to collect the cherry blossom petit fours I promised her.”
Lucie blinked. “But … that order was for tomorrow.”
“It was. But the High Lady does not wish to wait a day. Are they ready?”
“They are … almost finished.” Lucie’s voice came out thinner than she would have liked. “They only need the honey light. But the High Lady requestedGolden Hourspecifically, and we used the last of it for Lady Whispermist’s order yesterday. I was going to capture more this afternoon, but?—”
The rain. Henry had said there would be rain later. No! She had never hoped more fervently that Henry was wrong about something. But even ifhewaswrong, it would be too late. She would not yet have finished capturing the honey light, would not have completed the petit fours, when the herald pixie returned.
“But … it …” Lucie’s mind scrambled for a way to make this work, for a way to keep from disappointing the High Lady—or worse, Lady Rivenna.
But Lady Rivenna was already crossing to the shelf where the honey light bottles stood in their neat row. Her fingers moved along them until she paused and selected one that was a warm, deep amber. “We shall use a different honey light.”
“But—the High Lady choseGolden Hour. She will be disappointed. I cannot—I should not let her down.”
“You are not letting anyone down.” Lady Rivenna held up the bottle, turning it so the light caught the amber within. “This isHearthglow. It is one of my personal favorites.” She set the bottle on the worktable. “I shall write a letter myself to accompany the order, informing her that I have personally selected a honey light for her to sample, one I believe to be superior for cherry blossom. Now.” She fixed Lucie with a look that was equal parts expectation and command. “With that decided, can you have the petit fours finished in time?”
Lucie’s mind was spinning, grasping at the edges of the day she had already planned—the batches she was partway through, the steps she had mapped out in careful order, where she could shift things, what could wait, what could not—and the thoughts were circling too fast, looping back over themselves, refusing to settle into any kind of sequence even though she knew thisreallyshould not be that complicated.
“Lucie? If you require extra assistance, you need only?—”
“No!” The word came out too quickly. She swallowed. “No, that is perfectly all right, my lady. I have everything under control. The cherry blossom petit fours will be perfect, and they will be ready when the herald returns.”
“Excellent.” Lady Rivenna gathered her portfolio from the side table. “I shall be upstairs writing that letter. Do let me know if you need anything.” She paused at the foot of the staircase. “And you will sit down for luncheon. I will not have you run yourself into the ground on my account. If the order runs late and the High Lady must wait, then she must wait, and I will take responsibility for the delay.”
Through the tightness in her chest, Lucie managed, “Of course, my lady. But it will not be late.” There was absolutely no possibility—none whatsoever—that she would be keeping the High Lady waiting.
Lady Rivenna’s footsteps ascended the stairs. The study door closed.
Lucie glanced to the side. At the far end of the table, Kazrian was leaning over the table on folded arms, his attention fixed on the stubbornPotion 245.
Grateful that he was distracted, Lucie took a moment to press both palms to the worktable and attempt to breathe. But her chest was tight and her mind had been running at full tilt since she’d woken, and now it was outpacing her body’s ability to keep up. Her breaths were too fast, too shallow, not reaching deep enough.
She shut her eyes and reached for the ring on the chain at her neck. Her thumb found the faceted lumyrite stone set into it and began to trace the edges.One, two, three, four, five, six. One, two, three, four?—
But the numbers were running through her mind too quickly, tripping over each other, and she needed to slow down, sheknewshe needed to slow down. She should leave the room—make up an excuse, step into the pantry, step into the courtyard—but her feet would not move and her hands were gripping the edge of the table and?—
A sound. Steady. Close.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Lucie opened her eyes. Kazrian was still at the other end of the worktable, arms still crossed as he leaned over the carved letters with focused intent. But his hand, the one closest to her, was absently tapping a slow, steady rhythm with one finger. The sort of thing one did without even realizing it.
She started counting.
In … two … three … four …
Hold … two … three … four …
