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Ever since her conversation with Titus at dinner, Avera’s mind had been whirring. Hopeful and yet, at the same, time fearful of that hope. She had no way of finding out if Griff had survived. As far as she could tell, he’d been burned alive with Basil.

But what if he hadn’t?

They’d never actually checked, too busy fleeing in their grief. She now regretted that haste. Then again, logically she knew no one could have survived that inferno, inherited bloodline or not.

Prielli appeared shortly after dawn, creeping in quietly only to startle when Avera said, “Good morning.”

“Your majesty.” She dipped into a curtsy. “I thought you’d still be abed.”

“Then why come so early?”

“To be there when you awoke and ask if you’d like breakfast.”

“I would, thank you.”

“I’ll fetch a tray.”

Avera shook her head. “I’d rather eat in the dining hall, if that’s alright.”

Prielli blinked and appeared rather dumbstruck.

“Is that a problem?”

“No, it’s just the ladies of the court don’t tend to make an appearance until the midday meal.”

“I am not like other ladies. I prefer to start my day early and I don’t see a reason why you should have to climb those stairs fetching me food when I am perfectly capable of going to where the meal is prepared.”

“I don’t mind,” Prielli hastened to say.

“I do. I would have been down already, but I seem to have no clothes.” Prielli had absconded with the previous evening’s dress and the garderobe didn’t contain any garments.

“I have some ready for you. The seamstresses worked all night to ensure you had some suitable ensembles. I’ll fetch them. They’re waiting in your parlor.”

Before Avera could stop her, Prielli fled, and Avera wandered to the window to observe the waking city.

She’d spent a quiet night—no murder attempts, although she did dream of a dragon.

Not the one she’d seen in Verlora though.

The one in her dream had been smaller and of a silvery, almost iridescent hue.

Blame Titus with his ridiculous suggestion of hatching the eggs.

Absolutely preposterous. They were dangerous creatures and yet… She had to wonder if it would work.

Perhaps this book he’d mentioned would speak more on the subject. Assuming whoever wrote it did so with truth. Could be a tale of fiction meant for gullible folk. At the same time, Titus didn’t seem the type to be taken in by charlatanry.

Prielli scurried back in, arms full of clothing which she draped on the bed.

“Does her majesty know what she’d like to do today?

We have a gown perfect for lounging in the garden.

This one is lovely for receiving visitors.

” Prielli indicated one of yellow with sprigs of green as well as a mauve one with a daring neckline.

Avera’s eye was caught by a dark blue dress with an interesting skirt. “What of this one?”

“That is a riding habit.”

“The skirt is split,” she observed, noticing it had been sewn into a pair of voluminous legs.

“How else would you ride?” Prielli asked with a creased brow.

Rather than dumbly ask if women rode astride here, Avera assumed they must. How delightful. “I’ll wear this one, please,” she indicated, making her choice.

“Are you sure, majesty? I do not know if his eminence has assigned you a steed in the stable.”

For a second, Avera flashed to her horse left behind in Daerva. Luna had been her closest friend for years. She wondered how her horse fared.

“I wasn’t planning to ride, but I think this ensemble will be perfect for a walk to the city. I’d like to browse your bazaar.”

“Walk?” Once more, Prielli sounded shocked.

“It’s not that far and my legs could use some exercise after being cooped up on that ship. Or is walking frowned upon?”

“It’s allowed, majesty, it’s just…” Prielli paused before saying, “The ladies usually order a palanquin for transport.”

Avera’s nose wrinkled. “I’d rather not be carted around in a luxurious coffin.”

“Oh.” Prielli put a hand over her mouth but couldn’t completely hide her giggle.

Avera grinned. “No need to hide your mirth. I’d like us to be open with each other. It would be nice to have someone to call friend. I just hope you’ll excuse my unconventional nature.”

“It’s refreshing, majesty.”

“I don’t suppose you’d call me Avera in private?” She couldn’t help a wistful note.

“That wouldn’t be proper!”

“I know.” Avera sighed. “I just hate the pomp and ceremony all the time. I am a person like everyone else.”

Her admission led to Prielli biting her lip. “Perhaps I don’t have to use your honorific so often.”

The concession was a start.

With Prielli’s help, Avera was soon dressed and loving the design of the outfit.

If—make that when—she made it back to Daerva, she’d have to describe it to Josslyn.

They’d spoken of trying to make trousers fashionable for ladies before Avera’s abduction.

This compromise might be an easier transition for those who feared being too mannish.

The dining hall didn’t have as many people as the previous evening, and the head table sat empty. When Prielli would have filled her plate from the buffet, Avera waved her off. “I can scoop my own food. Why don’t you go eat?”

“If I do, they’ll accuse me of neglecting you.” Prielli wrung her hands.

“In that case, we will dine together.”

“We can’t!” Prielli squeaked.

“Why not? We both need to eat.”

“Maids don’t eat with royalty.”

Some rules stayed the same even in other countries. “Perhaps some mornings you can bring a tray to my room then so we can partake together and share gossip.”

At that compromise, Prielli smiled. “That would be lovely.”

“Where should I sit?”

No surprise, Prielli pointed to the empty table.

Avera held in a sigh. Perhaps she shouldn’t have insisted on coming down. Once more, eyes followed her every movement. She could only imagine how many conversations centered around her as well.

She took her full plate to the same spot she’d sat in the night before and began to eat. She noticed curious glances, but no one approached her until she was almost done with her meal.

A woman of incredible beauty—her skin a light cream, her hair golden like the sun, wearing a dress that seemed much too elaborate for the morning—strode to a stop in front of Avera’s spot.

“What do you think you’re doing?” the stranger snapped.

“Eating.” It seemed rather obvious.

“You’re sitting at his eminence’s table.”

“You don’t say.” Avera leaned back in her seat as she braced herself for the harangue by someone who obviously didn’t know about Avera’s arrival.

“Only those of his inner court may sit here.”

“And?”

“You’re not one of them,” spat the woman. “I would know since I’m part of His Eminence’s retinue.”

“What’s your name?” Avera asked.

“None of your business. Now move before I have the guards called.”

“You don’t want to do that,” Avera murmured.

“I will not have you disrespect the emperor.”

“I’m not the one causing a scene,” Avera pointed out.

“Your very presence is an insult, and I won’t have it.” The woman lifted her chin and sniffed.

“You seem to care an awful lot about what your emperor would think. Are you close?”

“Very, and I expect now that I’ve returned from my sojourn at my parents’ estate, we shall soon make that relationship official.”

“Is that so?” Avera replied dryly. “Odd, I’d heard a rumor he planned on marrying some foreign queen.”

“I don’t pay attention to gossip,” sniffed the woman. “And I am not listening to you anymore. Guards!” She raised her hand and waved.

Avera remained seated. She was well aware of how court politics worked. If she cowed now to this woman, she’d be seen as weak. Whether she actually married the emperor or not didn’t matter. She had the reputation of Daerva to uphold.

A pair of guards sauntered over, not men she recognized and most likely they didn’t know her either. The woman waved her hands and blustered, pointing at Avera.

The guards moved towards Avera with the taller one barking, “You, out of the dining hall. It’s for palace residents only.”

“I assure you, I am a guest here,” Avera stated.

“Doubtful. I ain’t seen you before,” he replied.

“I only recently arrived. I was here for the evening meal with your emperor.”

“Sure, you were.”

Avera could have cleared everything up by stating her name and rank, but she wanted to see how things worked in Merisu.

She already knew cattiness crossed borders with this woman being just as bad as the ladies back home.

The guards? Clueless. But how did they treat those they thought broke the rules? Thus far, they were just rude.

The soldiers moved around the table and as they went to grab for Avera, she warned them, “You really don’t want to do this.”

“Ooh, I’m scared,” scoffed the smaller of the guards as he gripped her upper arm.

“What is going on?” Titus used a voice that managed to be heard across the dining hall without his seeming to raise it.

“Don’t worry, Your Eminence,” the woman simpered. “I’m having this intruder removed. Apparently, they don’t teach manners where’s she from.”

“You called the guards,” Titus stated flatly, and his expression caused the blonde to slightly wilt.

“Well, yes. I tried to tell this interloper this was your table, but she refused to leave.”

“Can you explain to me, Druelle, why my future consort, who is also the queen of Daerva, should have to move?”

The color drained from Druelle’s face. “Consort?” It emerged as a faint whisper. As for the guards, they recoiled so fast they almost fell over.

“This is Avera Voxspira, whom I plan to marry, meaning she’ll soon be your empress.”

“I thought your marriage to a foreigner was just a rumor,” Druelle squeaked.

“Even if it were, who gave you the authority to act? To decide who is or is not a guest? To order around my guards?” His cold glare went to the men, and they tried to stammer out excuses.

Titus held up a hand and silenced them. His gaze went to Avera.

“Good morning, my queen. I apologize for the rudeness of my subjects.”