Lady Calantha stood alone before the emperor in the great throne room, the towering marble pillars casting long shadows as morning light spilled through the arched windows. Her head was bowed, her hands clasped tightly before her.
Emperor Xander reclined lazily upon the golden throne, a picture of regal indifference. He studied her without a hint of urgency, his gaze flicking between her and the sun-dappled tiles beneath his feet.
"Your Highness, it is not what you think," Calantha began, her voice breathless with desperation.
"Then, by all means," Xander replied, his tone sharp as polished steel, "do explain it in a manner I might understand."
Her throat tightened as she lifted her eyes to meet his. "Lady Iris merely wished to earn your favour, and I…I told her that if she conducted herself with grace and refinement, she might, she might catch your attention."
That was a mistake.
Xander's fingers stopped their idle inspection of his signet ring. He looked up, his piercing gaze cutting through her composure.
"Catch the emperor's eyes, did you say?"
The words echoed ominously in the vast room.
"Ye…yes, Your Majesty," she stammered.
His voice dropped, low and dangerous. "And what authority do you hold to make such declarations on my behalf?"
"I meant no harm. I was only trying to help," Calantha offered quickly, her voice trembling despite herself.
Xander rose from the throne with an air of quiet fury, each step deliberate as he descended toward her. The sound of his boots striking the floor echoed like thunder.
"Help?" he repeated coldly. "You have lived in this palace longer than anyone else, yet in all that time, I have never once fancied you."
He circled her slowly, voice calm but cutting. "Perhaps if you focused on helping yourself, you might stop stirring up needless trouble."
With that, he swept past her without another glance.
"Yes, Your Highness," she muttered, bowing stiffly. Her fists curled tightly at her sides, her pride seething beneath the surface.
Across the palace, Lady Charlotte Cavendish, known fondly to her friends as Lola, was tangled in a cocoon of blankets, deep in sleep when a persistent knock jarred her from slumber.
She groaned, rolling over. "Don't they ever tire?" she muttered, voice hoarse with sleep.
"My lady, are you there?" came the voice of her maid, muffled by the door.
With a frustrated huff, Lola sat up, rubbing her eyes. "Come in," she called.
Beatrix and Emmeline entered briskly, their faces bright with excitement.
"Good morning, my lady," they greeted in unison.
Lola squinted at them, her brows drawn in suspicion. "What is so very good about it, when I am being denied a proper lie-in?"
The girls exchanged amused glances.
"Well?" she asked, stretching. "What's the source of this joy you're both barely containing?"
"My lady," Emmeline began, clasping her hands. "The emperor summoned me this morning."
Lola blinked. "Summoned you?"
"Yes!" Emmeline beamed. "He said I'm to receive my own shop soon and until a replacement is found, I am to serve as your personal maid."
"That's wonderful news," Lola said with a soft smile. "But something tells me that's not the only reason you've come to disturb my sleep."
The girls looked at each other again, grinning.
Beatrix took a breath and spoke the words that made Lola's heart skip a beat.
"The emperor summons you."
Lola stilled, her fingers frozen on the edge of the coverlet.
"Did he say what for?"