Thana forced herself to calm. No use in getting angry beforeshe’d even spoken to the woman. But angry was so much cleaner than…impassioned.No, no, better to not be anything. Calm, that was the way.
And clean wouldn’t hurt. She hurried to her own apartment withinthe royal section, wanting to change clothes and comb the dust out of her hair.Because being clean would help with the calm. No other reason.
* * *
Sylph submitted numbly to the ministrations of her maid.Sometimes, she envied the woman her plain uniform and the fact that all she hadto do with her hair was sweep it up under a simple cap. She never had to do allthis primping.
It was all Sylph could do to control her pounding heart throughthe bathing and changing and redoing of her hair. She kept up a litany in herhead of pleasant nonsense, trying to ward off panic or tears or hopelessness.Her father was safely tucked in his own room, out of sight and hearing. Shewanted to believe her maid’s sympathetic face, the invitation to confide, butshe couldn’t risk that.
Not when people could be other than they seemed.
She’d been seven when she’d learned about such deception, playingby herself on her family’s massive estate. When some of the town’s children hadsneaked under the wall, she’d been thrilled. She’d seen them playing oftenenough through the windows of her carriage as it rolled through town. She’dglimpsed them at a distance as she rode the edges of the estate with herfather, but she’d never spoken to any of them.
They’d playedwith her that day. They’d spokento her as if she was normal.And it had been nice. She hadn’t felt anything like it since her mother haddied two years before. She’d felt a pang of grief then for her lack of amother, but the visiting children had drowned that out.
Then her maid had found them. A different one than her currentlady-in-waiting, but she’d had the same kindly expression as she’d shooed theinterloping children away, gently chiding as she’d led Sylph inside. Sylph hadasked the maid not to tell, and she’d winked. A friend. A confidante.
Or so it had seemed.
Then the maid had told all to Sylph’s father. The children hadbeen caned for trespassing while Sylph had been forced to watch. And he’dforbidden her to cry, but she hadn’t been able to help a few tears, so she’dgone to bed hungry that night. The guilt had been worse than any pang. Whenshe’d refused to let her maid come near her again, her father had fired thewoman on the spot.
He could always find more spies.
So Sylph sat quietly as her maid now made her presentable shouldanyone come calling, but when further prodded to unburden herself, Sylphreplied, “You may go.”
After a curtsey, the maid left. Once the door clicked softlybehind her, Sylph sighed and breathed deeply, straining her tight coat. Thestrength went out of her, and she drooped on the settee, leaning sideways untilshe fell over, unable to stop herself.
She let herself see it all again: the wall, the pyradisté, theexplosion. She could remember having a gush of feelings but not what they were.She did not want to cry, not about the magic or about the memory of thechildren or her father or her maid or anything. She wished to be out of tears,a dried-up husk.
No, there they went. She sobbed into her pillow, keeping the backof her head up as much as she could so she didn’t ruin the fall of ringlets hermaid had produced. Even if this one was also a spy, Sylph would help her keepher job, keep her fed. It was too much to expect that someone would resist herpowerful father. And if he saw a head of flattened hair, he might fire thisone, and she’d done nothing to deserve that.
Yet.
When a soft knock came at the door, Sylph thought she might havesummoned the maid with her thoughts. She sat up quickly. “Just a moment.”Wiping her face, she went to the mirror and took a few deep breaths, but thatwouldn’t help the redness around her eyes. She grabbed a bottle of perfume andspread some on her cheeks, wincing at the strong scent so close to her nose,but she needed an excuse for tears. She wiped at it as she called, “Come in.”
“My lady, there’s—” The maid stopped when their eyes met in themirror. “You’ve been…crying?”
Sylph forced herself to giggle. “Went to spray myself withperfume and got myself in the face, I’m afraid.”
“I’m so sorry, my lady. I should have been here to help.” Sherushed forward, taking another cloth and dipping it into a basin of waterbefore dabbing at Sylph’s cheeks.
Sylph fought the urge to sigh. Soon, the whole castle would nodoubt think she was too stupid to put on perfume without help.
“No doubt a defective bottle,” the maid said. “I’ll replace itimmediately.” She scooped it up and nodded toward the door. “There’s a visitorfor you. The queen’s pyradisté. Shall I tell her you’re not available?”
Sylph’s mind whirled. The raven. Come to visit her? To make sureshe was all right? To ask about the magic? A pleasant thought and a terrifyingone. She tried to speak and couldn’t. After licking her lips, she tried again.“I…tell her…” She wanted to send her away, but the desire to speak to anyonewho might be worried about herand not her station or what she could do for them was too strong.
And if today had proven anything, it was that the magic wasn’tgoing to go away.
“I’ll see her.” Sylph stood, trying to ignore her shaking legs asshe moved from her bedroom to the sitting room.
The raven nearly leaped from one of the uncomfortable sittingroom chairs. Her cheeks had gone red, making
