Ferran pushes the door to the queen’s library open, walks inside, and holds it open for Faey and Osmund; once the two are clear from the door, he bows and dismisses himself.

  “Thank you, Osmund.” ?nnywella says as she stands from the couch. She walks over to the Faey and extends her hand, wishing for a handshake. “And thank you as well, ?ppolonia; I appreciated you coming on such short notice.”

  Faey puts the letters in ?nnywella’s outstretched hand, getting a slightly confused reaction and a chuckle from the queen. “You’re very welcome; thank you for having me.” Even though the letter read as though she had no choice in the matter, it is still rather flattering to be personally requested to visit the queen.

  Osmund goes and takes a seat in the leather chair in the north of the room, sinking into the upholstered leather.

  Faey looks around the room, admiring the atmosphere created by the thoughtfully decorated interior, the black oak shelves reminding her of the library at the college, just darker—more refined. Her eyes follow the ladder against the north wall up to the third-floor balcony and around to the south side; peering through the banister, she can see two women talking at a table in the loft. Below them, a woman dressed in a long dark-blue dress sits quietly at the desk snuggled between two shelves; her crossed arms are resting on the back of the chair as she faces the center of the room. Faey looks the woman up and down; despite being unable to see the woman’s face from behind the veil of her tall, pointed, black hat, she decides—based on what is visible of the woman’s thin, lanky silhouette—that this was Floryana, whom she had met following the coronation.

  “Who’s up there?” Faey asks, pointing to the loft.

  ?nnywella follows Faey’s finger. “Konstanze and ?denora.” Her cigarette jiggles from the side of her mouth as she talks. She shuffles through the five sealed letters.

  “Can I go up?”

  “Verily, you can use the ladder—just don’t fall.” ?nnywella gestures to the ladder with her head. “Are you alright if we cut some of the words and letters from these?” She shakes the envelopes in her hand.

  “G?ri’Seliani has forbidden me from reading them.” Faey shrugs. “So I guess so; at least they will be good for something and not collect dust under my bed.”

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  She heads for the ladder and begins slowly climbing, her eyes skimming the spines of books as she ascends. At the top, she makes her way around the softly lit balcony to the third-floor loft and introduces herself to ?denora. She pulls out a chair and joins them at the table, figuring it would be best to be as far from the content of the letters as possible, no matter how much she wants to know what is written inside.

  Floryana looks to Osmund, staring at him from behind her veil. “Wait outside.” Her tone is indifferent.

  “I will be as quiet as a mouse; you won’t even know I’m here.” Osmund responds, trying to defend himself.

  ?nnywella backs away from the sightline between the two, wishing to stay out of this. She figured this would happen, as Floryana seems to get uneasy when there are more than five people in a room with her, or, Osmund is in the room or in eyesight.

  “No; wait outside.” Floryana points to the door with a gloved hand.

  Osmund looks to ?nnywella, his eyes pleading for some sort of defense that will allow him to stay—she takes a drag on her cigarette and shrugs.

  Osmund stands languidly, not wanting to leave the comfortable chair, and makes his way to the door—feeling Floryana’s glare all the way.

  The door clicks shut.

  Floryana removes her hat, handing it to ?nnywella. “Please put this on the couch.” She rarely wears the hat around the castle—preferring the silence of her ring—as it makes it difficult to walk through doorways, but she makes an exception when Osmund is involved.

  ?nnywella trades Floryana the letters and places the enormous hat carefully on the couch.

  Floryana takes the silver letter opener from the desk, and the quiet sound of envelopes being sliced open fills the room, overpowering the whispers of the women in the loft. Floryana spreads the five letters out in front of her and adjusts her round-framed glasses. Quickly giving each a once-over next to the anonymous letter ?nnywella had received a few days prior.

  “What do you think?” Asks ?nnywella as she looks over Floryana’s shoulder.

  Floryana pauses, placing the letter in her hand back on the table, and turns to ?nnywella. “I think you should sit down and not look over my shoulder; you’re too close. I think that I cannot determine who wrote the letters after just reading them. I also think that this man is strange.” To Floryana, there is nothing more distracting than someone being too close or fabric that doesn’t feel just right.

  ?nnywella slides the hat further down the couch and sits down. She’s known Floryana long enough to know that these ‘rude’ responses were not intended as rude but simply the answer to her question; she wasn’t specific enough in her question, and in turn, Floryana had simply told her what she was thinking.

  ?nnywella decides it is best to let Floryana work. “I’m going to join the others in the loft and let you focus—give me a shout when you come to a conclusion.” She turns and heads for the ladder, her gut telling her she will regret the poor choice of words.