8

I WAS RIGHT IN GAUGING THE POPULARITY OF THE WHITE COTTON dresses for daytime social events—they bloomed and bobbed along the riverbank. Different seamstresses had lent different touches; some sleeves were slim and fitted, others ballooned like sails in the wind; some added tiers of ruffles to the low-cut necklines, others, to the hemlines.

“You didn’t wear one?” Theodor asked, gesturing toward Viola, Pauline, and a trio of women I didn’t know, all wearing chemise gowns and huge silk-covered hats that looked like partially deflated mushrooms.

“I wanted to be different,” I said blandly. I had remade an old pale gray silk gown to cut away in the front and reveal a red stomacher, a plain homage to the colors of reform.

Theodor suppressed a laugh. “It seems your success ran away with itself a bit.”

As I looked over the sea of white gowns, I noticed something punctuating each of the white cotton dresses—red and gray, in sashes and cockades and ribbons. Like wine on a tablecloth or blood on snow, impossible to miss. I smiled, faintly. The chemise gown of my design was not only a fashion statement but, it seemed, part of a political one as well. I brushed the cockade nestled into a large double-looped bow at the top of my gown.

A gentleman in a dark blue suit approached Theodor. “I had hoped you’d be here, Your Grace,” he said. Theodor forced a smile at the deferential title; this was a social occasion, but unlike Viola’s salon, formality of rank persisted here.

“I had a question of clarification on the election procedures outlined in the Reform Bill before I feel, shall we say, comfortable placing my vote.”

Theodor’s resigned sigh was barely noticeable. “Of course.” I slipped quietly away, drifting toward Viola.

“Sophie!” She caught my hand as soon as I was close enough to snare. Pauline greeted me as well, but two of the three women they had been talking to glided toward the rose arbor. “I’m glad you came. Theodor said you might not,” she added. I was grateful she didn’t continue—that my reasons for refusal would have been the back order at my shop.

Pauline smiled. “It’s been ages since I’ve seen you!”

“You really should come to the salon more often,” Viola said. “Or are you too busy selecting bridal silks and tasting cake recipes with Her Majesty the Queen?”

I forced a laugh; it sounded like a nervous squeak. “There’s been so much to do,” I said. I hadn’t told Viola that Theodor’s parents had yet to acknowledge the betrothal. “But you’re both staying over the summer?”

Pauline shook her head. “I’m planning to leave for the old family haunt down south within the fortnight. Mother and I were waiting for Father to be free to come, but…” She hesitated, glancing at the other three women standing nearby, and decided not to continue.

“Old family haunt, indeed!” Viola laughed. “Sophie, the Hardinghold family has the loveliest estate on the Rock River, with an orchard you couldn’t believe.”

“We grow the best pears in Galitha,” Pauline confirmed. “And make the best pear cider,” she added.

“I’ve need of another case for my cellar,” the woman I didn’t know replied. She was older than us, with faint lines of gray in her brown hair that, rather than detracting from her appearance, touched her hair like sunbeams.

“Of course,” Pauline said. “Oh! I imagine you don’t know Lady Sommerset.”

“No, I haven’t had the pleasure,” I replied demurely.

Lady Sommerset held me in her level, precise gray eyes. Pauline continued the introduction. “Lady Dorsette Sommerset, this is Sophie Balstrade. Sophie, Lady Sommerset is the wife of Lord Sommerset of the Council of Nobles and the daughter of Lord Oakes. Lady Sommerset, Miss Balstrade is—”

“I know quite well,” Lady Sommerset replied with a cool smile. “Her affiliations are certainly no secret in this company.”

I swallowed a sharp retort and instead let my hand wander to the betrothal binding on my wrist. My meaning was clear—I was not going anywhere. “It’s an honor to make your acquaintance, my lady,” I murmured, keeping my gaze on her delicate pink silk slippers lest I allow the ice I had successfully kept out of my voice to show in my eyes.

“Indeed,” she replied simply.

Viola brushed my arm. “I’m completely parched,” she said. “Care for a sip of something?”

I agreed readily and let her pull me toward a vine-woven loggia spread with tables of petite cakes and grand displays of fruit. A large crystal punch bowl hid among a voluminous display of roses. “It’s not just you,” she said, dipping us each a cup of punch. “It’s that Sommerset woman. Her husband is barely an anybody and he’s a horrid estate manager. She thinks she can hang on by lording her old name over everyone.”

“It is me, Viola,” I said, keeping my voice low. “I’m sure she’s no pearl, but I—I know that these occasions are not going to be like the salon.”

“Well.” She shook her head and sipped her punch with near-violent indifference, sending a tiny sliver of orange careening toward the rim. “It shouldn’t matter what her political persuasions are; one is polite regardless.”

“Politics,” I muttered. “Everything comes back to politics.”

Viola poked her orange slice back into her glass. “And you—with that little wrist flick, showing off your gold. Quite the subtle gibe.”

“You know better than I do—how many people here actively hate me?”

Viola waved the question away like a fly. “I won’t pretend to know how everyone’s politics shake out. Anyone in support of reform sees your impending marriage as a beautiful symbol, and anyone opposing reform sees that marriage as political machination at best and dereliction of duty by Theodor at worst. If you wanted to know how the vote on the Reform Bill will swing, send out wedding invitations and see who replies with their acceptances and regrets.” She laughed, but I knew that she was only half joking.

I glanced back at Lady Sommerset, curiosity overcoming my better instincts. She had returned to her gaggle of friends. None of them wore the white chemise gowns, and I noticed that three of them had gold and brilliant blue ribbons fashioned into complicated bows pinned to their gowns. Another had decorated her white silk-covered hat in blue and gold rosettes. She slipped a small book from her pocket, disentangling it from the fine cotton of her skirts with a harried flick of her hand. I squinted, but I couldn’t see the title. The smirks on their faces, however, hinted at the content—a libertine piece, a saucy dialogue, or maybe a satirical work raking some current target over coals built of metaphor.

Theodor joined us, looking faintly drained. “I thought we were supposed to be playing croquet,” he joked, “but I feel rather more like the ball, and the Reform Bill, the wickets.”

“We ought to start a game,” Viola said. “Just the thing to keep everyone behaving civilly toward one another—let them whack at something with sticks.”

She sauntered toward the croquet pitch, already set up in a level promenade in the far end of the garden, motioning toward several ladies to join her. My only experience with the game was attempting to fight the ball over the divots of my first employer’s tiny garden at a Midsummer party, but I was pleased to discover quickly the equality in our match—none of us was particularly good. I found myself actually laughing and joking with the ladies and gentlemen playing alongside me and—remarkably—they with me.

“Tell me,” said one plump lady with azure-blue eyes and a silk hat to match, “is it true that the common folk actually want to elect representatives?”

I arrested the incredulous reply that came to mind first, and instead demurred, “Of course it’s true. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I’ve heard so many people say that they don’t think the common people are capable of the responsibility,” she replied, lifting her croquet mallet and flicking a bit of clover from it. “I daresay it will be a new experience for them, if the bill passes.”

I swallowed. This was why I was here, I reminded myself. “They are very used to responsibility,” I said evenly. “The responsibility of feeding their families and heating their houses and caring for their children and their aged parents. They are well suited for the responsibility of maintaining their country’s good health, as well.”

She paused, taken aback by the seriousness of my reply. “I see,” she said slowly. “Ah, dear, it’s my turn. Quite the game, isn’t it?”

I was flushed pink by the time the croquet games ended, having finished solidly in the middle of each match but feeling as though I had won something more. Several ladies and one lord had openly inquired or left an open avenue for my opinion on the reforms, and I had imparted, as confidently as I could, the pressing need and hopeful dedication of the common people. The common people, I didn’t need to state in so many words, like me.

“You seem happier than after that stuffy dinner,” Theodor commented as we drove away. “I didn’t know you played croquet.”

“Clearly, I don’t.” I laughed. “I didn’t realize most nobles were so poorly practiced.”

“It may have been the honey mead punch,” Theodor confessed, “that led to quite a few missed wickets. At any rate, by the end of the match, you seemed rather at the center of things.”

“I really don’t enjoy being at the center of anything,” I confided.

“I know. And there is something more I wanted to ask you to do, but I fear it’s too much.”

“Too much?” Irritation prickled in my voice. “You could let me decide about that.”

Theodor resisted, then laughed, seeing that I was determined. “Every five years, the leaders of Galitha, Kvyset, East and West Serafe, and the Allied Equatorial States gather for a summit. We meet this year, at Midsummer, in West Serafe.”

“West Serafe in midsummer. That sounds miserable,” I replied amenably, anticipating a request for summer-weight clothes for the queen or some other dignitary and mentally adjusting our already-tight schedule.

“I didn’t pick it.” Theodor sighed. “Clearly, this year poses some difficulties. The king does not want to leave Galitha so soon after the insurrection. The involvement of Kvys mercenaries—which the Kvys officials continue to claim they have no knowledge of, for what it’s worth—is making that particular tension worse. And the only acceptable dignitary to send in place of the king is completely untrained and doesn’t know his head from his ass.”

“And who is that?”

“Me.” Theodor’s mouth twitched into a wry smile. “It’s me, Sophie. I’m supposed to lead a diplomatic envoy to West Serafe in—what? A month?—and I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“Oh,” I said. My most pressing concern—how much I would miss him—surprised me with its strength, but I pushed it aside. “You have some experience, with international delegates coming here to Galitha. And you’ve traveled.”

“Well, yes,” he admitted. “I’ve sat in on dozens of meetings with the East and West Serafans, some with the Allied States, and a very cold late-autumn meeting in Kvyset. I suppose I did assist with hosting the delegation that came for Annette’s marriage contract, too.” He sighed. “It doesn’t seem like enough preparation for actually representing the entire country.”

“There probably isn’t enough training in the world for that. But you’d best get used to it, Crown Prince.” My laugh felt dry as sawdust—if he had to get used to representing an entire country’s interests, I wasn’t many steps behind him.

“I had hoped to convince you to accompany me.” Anticipating my doubts, he rushed to add, “It’s only a fortnight. Maybe a few days more if travel doesn’t favor us. In almost any other circumstance, it would be customary for a spouse or fiancée to accompany a delegate. I recognize that this is not entirely typical, but I feel it sends a very important message for you to attend. To the common people of Galitha, to the nobility, to our allies.”

I had not expected this. “I—I’m afraid I won’t have the slightest idea of what to do.”

“That will make two of us.” He grinned. I rolled my eyes at his exaggeration. “I figured I’d alleviate our suffering a bit and invite Annette to accompany us. She’s as savvy about foreign affairs as most of the council, but what’s more, she understands the social nuances of all the dinners and receptions and whatnot.” He traced his gold bracelet. “And then when we get back, we can get to planning a wedding in earnest.”

My eyes widened, but I nodded. “All right. But if I’m being honest? I’m terrified.”

“I know,” he said. “I am, too.”