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“Crap!” I yelp, throwing on my spare lady-in-waiting gown and shoving my hair into a bun. The Exetor is coming today. I need to have Carnelian dressed and ready in an hour.
I skip the kitchen, figuring I can bring her something after she’s dressed, and dive through the tapestry of the Duchess by the dining room. I pound my way up the stairs, slowing my pace when I enter into the main halls, and knock three times on her door.
“You’re late,” she calls, and I take that as permission to come in. She sits up in bed, a tray of half-eaten waffles beside her. “Mary brought me breakfast. My bell doesn’t connect with your room.” She smirks. “Mary hates you, by the way.”
I bristle. “She hates you, too.”
Carnelian flushes, then shrugs. “Everybody hates me.”
I don’t have time to feel bad, or even argue with her, right now. “Come on,” I say. “Get up. You can boss me around all you like today. That’s got to count for something.”
A broad smile spreads across her face. I have to help her out of bed because her chest is taped up. The doctor gave her pain medication so her ribs and shoulder don’t hurt, but the tape makes maneuvering her into a dress take longer than usual.
Somehow, we manage to make it to the foyer by 10:42. Rye meets us at the top of the main staircase, all in black. He doesn’t even glance at me, smiling at Carnelian and offering his arm.
“How are you feeling?” he asks as they descend the stairs. Carnelian leans on him heavily.
“I’m all right,” she says. “Whatever the doctor gave me is working. I don’t want to go to any parties tonight, though.”
“As far as I know, our schedule is completely clear. We can do whatever you wish.”
We reach the foot of the stairs and I slink into line beside Cora. Rye and Carnelian stand with Garnet and the Duchess, who are already waiting at the front doors. The fountain twinkles merrily, surrounded by black-clad servants and maids. Even Zara is in attendance, looking strange out of her apron. The red coats of the Regimentals and the white dresses that Cora and I wear are the only splashes of color.
The minutes tick past. At eleven o’clock on the dot, an opulent motorcar pulls up. Little flags whip in the wind from their perches above the headlights—the Royal Crest is emblazoned on them, as well as on the motorcar’s doors.
The Exetor emerges from the car and climbs the steps to the palace, trailed by two members of his private guard. The entire foyer bows and curtsies as he enters.
“Pearl,” he says, in a commanding voice. “I am deeply sorry for your loss. As you said in your letter, it is truly a tragic time for the House of the Lake.”
“Thank you, Your Grace,” the Duchess replies. “I am honored you took the time to visit me here.”
The Exetor smiles. It’s a surprisingly nice smile. His beard is close-cropped and streaked with hints of gray, but you can see the strong jaw underneath.
“You wished to meet with me,” he says.
“Yes,” the Duchess replies. “If you will accompany me to my private study, we can speak there. Cora can bring us refreshments.”
“That won’t be necessary,” the Exetor says, stopping Cora in her tracks.
“As you wish.” The Duchess curtsies again. I’ve never seen her be so deferential. “Please follow me.”
They begin to ascend the staircase. The Exetor’s guards shadow him, but he waves them off with a hand. “You will wait for me here.”
They reach the second floor and disappear.
It’s like everyone in the foyer was holding a collective breath. The Regimentals break ranks, One and Two moving to stand by the main stairs, Four and Five going over to greet the Exetor’s guards. Zara claps her hands and all the scullery maids follow her down to the kitchen. Garnet turns to Rye and Carnelian.
“I’m off to the library. We’ll have to be back here soon enough when he leaves.”
“I’ll come with you,” Carnelian says. “I need to get a new book.” She glances at me with a smug smile. “Come along, Imogen.”
I bob my head and try to look docile.
“Are you sad?” Carnelian asks Garnet as we walk through the halls. “About Coral?”
“Of course.”
“But you didn’t love her.”
