17

BRILLIANT RED AND WHITE STARBURSTS EXPLODED ABOVE THE harbor, raining sparks amid cheers from the shore. I opened the curtain of Theodor’s bedchamber wide, taking in the panorama of a dozen fishing boats and small merchant ships taking turns launching fireworks from their decks.

“You wish you were at the celebration?” Theodor asked.

“Not really,” I replied. I didn’t care for the press and heat of large crowds, and the assembly at the docks was certainly the largest Galitha City had seen in recent months. Elections for the committees replacing the Lords of Stones, Keys, and Coin were set to take place within the fortnight. Even more revolutionary, the Council of Country, to govern alongside the Council of Nobles, would be elected before autumn. Riders had been sent to every corner of Galitha with the procedures the moment the vote had passed, so I imagined that in other towns and villages, along the coast and in the river valleys, there were smaller but similar celebrations.

“I feel as though we ought to have done something,” he continued. “A small party, a reception, something.”

“I suppose I didn’t want to jinx anything by planning a party,” I said.

“I didn’t want to consider the outcome of the vote at all,” Theodor confided. “I didn’t quite believe we could do it.” He took my hand. “I do mean we. You—you’re in that bill as much as I am.”

“You mean law,” I replied with a creeping, unbidden smile. “We ought to at least drink a toast.”

“I could use a drink,” Theodor replied with a wry smile. He rang for a maid. “I don’t suppose either of us feel much like celebrating after what happened with your shop today. You do think…”

“It was written plainly. Arson, aimed at me.” I held up my hands. “It’s not what’s important today. Or, frankly, tomorrow or any day after that.” The victory today was not the end of our struggle. It was only a waypoint, still on the uphill climb. The revelers in the city’s harbor and filling her taverns and streets were pouring beer and punch in celebration, but would the cheering crowds be disappointed as change rolled out slowly, faltering as nobles and commoners bickered and fought over legislation in their respective councils? I watched the fireworks stain the sky red; the colorful display, meant as celebration, seemed almost foreboding.

And though the streets rang with cheers, there were certainly common people at home tonight, upset at the turn of events. Counter-reformist protests had cropped up in Fountain Square, surprising even me with their varied participants. Fear of change motivated even dockworkers and bargehands, and something coarser, too. Some of the pamphlets circulating the city following the bill’s passage suggested a subversive Pellian takeover, or at least an unhealthy level of influence by Pellians. It didn’t matter that most of the participants had been Galatine born and bred; Niko Otni and Kristos Balstrade were still well-known names, and then of course there was the noxious Pellian enchantress marrying the prince.

The maid returned with a bottle of sparkling wine. “To the future,” Theodor said as he raised a delicate cut-crystal coupe.

“Whatever it may be,” I said.

“We know one thing,” he said. “We’re in it together.”

As it turned out, Theodor didn’t need to plan a party to celebrate the passage of the bill at all. Viola arranged, in her characteristic refined excess, a grand fete in a closed section of the public gardens. It was no surprise that most of the nobles and other guests sipping wine and sampling tiny iced cakes decorated with rose petals were the bill’s proponents and members of Viola’s salon. Much of the nobility were quietly sulking or openly complaining about the vote. Others had made quick retreats to their estates to spend the rest of the summer. Even though the bill had gained a majority, it was clear that the results disappointed many, and that even some of the nobles who had voted for the bill felt compelled by threats of another revolt rather than pure ideals.

“Lovely choice of location,” I said to Viola as she greeted us.

“It was the closest I could get to throwing it specifically for Theodor,” she said. “He doesn’t want any attention on him, but faint mercy, it’s his doing.”

I agreed that Theodor deserved the largest share of the credit, though I deferred to the line we’d practiced earlier. “Everyone who petitioned, argued, and voted for the bill should be celebrated.”

“Good gory offal, he’s turned you into a councillor, too!” Viola laughed and plucked a glass of sweet honey-colored wine from a nearby table. “Are you quite ready for the summit?”

“I’m trying to finish a cotton gown or two before we leave, but I’m not sure I’ll be successful.” I didn’t add that I was also scrambling to try to salvage the shop for Alice, though the fire commissioner had shaken his head and proclaimed the building a total loss. The likelihood of finding a new location so quickly was slim, and without one, I couldn’t transfer my license to Alice.

“Quite wise of you,” Viola said. “The climate there is much different from even Galitha in summer. The heat is beyond your reckoning, and the humidity. If you’d like to borrow a few things, I’d be glad to send some lightweight gowns along with you.”

“It’s a lovely offer,” I said, “but you forget that I’ve done sewing for you. The shoulders in your gowns will be too narrow for me.”

“Your build is so regal,” Viola said.

“Or like a Pellian ox.” I laughed. “I’ve been making over a few cotton gowns, and I have my chemise gown. That seems appropriate for summer anywhere.”

“Indeed, and a bit of a comment on affairs here, besides. You aren’t nervous, are you?” she asked.

“Of course I am! I have no idea how to behave at a Galatine function half the time, let alone an international summit. I’m just a plain Galatine seamstress with Pellian parents and the shoulders to match,” I replied.

“You are far more than that,” Viola said. “You’re the betrothed of the Prince of Westland. If you want one bit of advice, remember that and act the part.”

Annette and Theodor joined us. “I’m ever so pleased,” Annette said, her voice dripping sarcasm, “to discover that Admiral Merhaven will be joining us at the summit.”

“That old hay bale with legs attached?” Viola snorted.

“He said that Viola’s portraits were inferior to the previous court painter,” Annette confided. “That was three years ago and she’s not forgiven him.”

“My work is not inferior!” Viola set the glass down, the wine inside churning toward a tsunami under her trembling hands. “He only said that because I paint in the new style, the natural style. And because…” She huffed instead of adding the second reason.

“Why?” Theodor asked, brow tightening. “I always thought it was just that he didn’t agree with the less formal styling.”

“I’m a woman!” Viola threw a pale blue linen napkin at Theodor, hitting him square in the face. “You are such an idiot sometimes.”

“I had no idea,” Theodor replied, setting the missile back on a nearby table.

Viola rolled her eyes. “I don’t suppose you’ve addressed any of those particular injustices and inconsistencies in your blessed Reform Bill. Coverture. Inheritance. All the unfair property laws privileging anyone with extra flesh between their legs.”

Annette laughed and brandished her wineglass. “Yes! We would write the laws differently, wouldn’t we? Ladies inheriting estates and titles. Married women keeping their property.”

“If only we could rewrite everything.” Viola sighed, laying a hand on Annette’s arm.

“Well, draft something for next fall’s session,” Theodor said. “The vote is final, we’ve prevailed, hurrah, and now on to the next thing.” We had met with the foreign minister, Lord Crestmont, to discuss the travel arrangements and high points of the summit’s agenda. It was clear that he was not particularly pleased that I was accompanying them, though he was mollified at the inclusion of the once-Princess Annette.

It was clear, as well, that the delegation had explicit designs on negotiating a marriage for Annette while we were abroad. From the pained glance Annette and Viola shared, it was clear they knew, too.

Suddenly overwhelmed, by the celebration of what we’d worked so long to accomplish, by the daunting tasks that lay ahead, by the prospect of an official role at an international summit, I excused myself. I moved away from the laughter and chatter at the center of the party toward the quiet avenues of green hedges that bordered the formal gardens. The public gardens closed at dusk, and the silence and shadows of a lingering summer evening gave me space to breathe.

“Well done, you.”

I jumped, tripping over a bit of loose brick in the walkway. A steady hand caught my arm. I whirled, gripping the hand, and faced a laughing Niko. “Sweet hell, Niko. Are you on the guest list?”

He released my arm. “Don’t be snippy. I was just… taking in the view.”

“Did you climb a fence?”

“I take it even a great patron of the public gardens like the crown prince doesn’t know about the water gate.” He grinned. “Down where the fountain runoff drains into the river. It’s a bit mucky, but—”

“You shouldn’t be here, you prize idiot! If you were caught, I couldn’t help you.”

“What? I just think it a bit gauche that your party didn’t include a slightly more stratified guest list.”

“It’s not my party.”

“Figures.” He scuffed his toe against the loose brick. “I wanted to see my allies up close.”

“Allies.”

“Don’t make any mistake, Sophie. You got your bill passed. But they’re going to fight you on keeping those laws. Every damn step. So I wanted to see—who have I got on the same side as me? I also hoped I’d find someone I could pass this along to.” He pressed a letter into my hand. I moved to put it in my pocket, but he stopped me. “It’s not from me. It’s intercepted. Read it.”

“Intercepted?” I asked as I unfolded the paper. The seal was already broken. I recognized the device—Pommerly.

“We do more than distribute pamphlets, you know.”

I was primed to argue about his disregard for both privacy and the legality of stealing mail when I scanned the opening lines of the missive. It was brief, but directive. Wait until the crown prince is gone, then hold up the election proceedings. Levy new taxes before any new council can be convened. Garrison provincial fortifications with loyal troops. “Do you know what this is?”

“Active treasonous writing, yes.”

“Who was this addressed to?”

Niko shrugged. “Don’t know. Coded envelope. That’s how I knew it was important, make sense?”

“Surely it’s only that Pommerly idiot,” I breathed. “And surely—surely this isn’t actually happening.”

“Maybe. Maybe he’s just upset and venting a few ill-conceived ideas.” Niko shook his head. “I wouldn’t count on it.”

Before I could ask anything more, about where the letter came from, about what he intended to do, shadows and voices echoed down the path. Niko cut through a gap in the hedge and I was left alone, a damning writ of treason in my hands.