I wonder what the maid thinks as she lays the dress fit for a Lady on my narrow bed. From her pockets, she draws oils and plain hairpins. "I hope you haven't bathed yet, maedame."

I find it odd that she elevated me above my station—according to that etiquette book, you're not a maedame until you either manage your own house or get married. Not one person in Morineaux has called me that before. "I haven't."

She passes me the oils. "The prince recommended you use the infirmary bath, but I've permission to take you to the Ladies' bathing pool if you'd prefer."

"No, no." I'd much rather bathe here privately. The thought that someone might not unsettles me. "Here is fine."

"Will you require assistance, or should I wait for you up here?" The way she speaks, it's both polite and guiding, as though she wants to give honor to the station I don't have and knows I don't know how to fill that role. Who does she think I am, or am going to be, that the prince decided to dress me up and parade me as a Lady?

"I'll be fine on my own. Thank you."

I escape downstairs with the oils. Illesiarr raises an inquiring brow, but I just slip into the bathing room behind the stairs. With a prick of my finger on the statue, the room fills with roaring water. I lower myself into the pool and bathe, but water and oils can't change me into a Lady.

I float on the water. Why should it have to? These women are just like my mother, and I understand them much more intimately than they will ever understand me. I might have learned to serve these last few months, but I was not born a servant. I am worth no less than these women who wear glamour and gossip like a second skin.

Nervous birds still flutter in my stomach as I rise from the pool.

The warm air smells like roses and sugar, and I breathe it in. When was the last time I wore perfume? Memories of smoke and music fill my mind—the last party I went to in Erreliah. That night was supposed to be my final goodbye to all the Dock girls and to all the sneaking around Tavion Zahir caught me up in. For so long, I've marked the night I escaped Karsix as the night everything fell apart, but that wasn't where it started. A childhood best friend who wouldn't take no for an answer, my mother finding him drunk at our doorstep long after I'd come home, the truth coming out to her that I hadn't spent my every waking moment studying. That's what landed me in Karsix. That's what exiled me from Erreliah.

Clarity caves in over me, and I sink to the pool's edge. I don't want to go back to that. Erreliah has been a ghost in my mind for months, and I miss my home—but I don't miss my life there. I don't miss the mother I could never please. I don't miss the claustrophobic pressure to be the smartest, the brightest, the best. I don't miss the competition and the backbiting and the pointless self-centeredness. None of us were there to make Erreliah better; we were all there to make ourselves better and hope Erreliah noticed. I miss my father, and my bedroom, and my studies. But I don't miss him disappearing when Mother was angry; I don't miss feeling trapped; I don't miss science being all there was to life.

This might not be the life I chose, but I choose it now. Good or bad, I don't want to look back anymore. I just want to be here.

I push up and quickly dress. I have a dinner to ready for.

Back in my bedroom, the maid helps me into the extravagant emerald dress. She laces the corset so the bodice fits close to me, and I run my fingers over the smooth fabric as she steps back. I wish I had a mirror. I'm already starting to feel like a different person; do I look like one too?

She pulls my hair up with pins, hiding them underneath the updo, and dabs my cheeks with rouge. "Sorry I don't have much in the way of makeup for you, maedame. Close your eyes, please." She applies a pencil to my eyelids, then steps back. "There. I think you're ready."

I stand, bare feet cold against the stone. "Shoes?"

She bites her lip. "Your page slippers will have to do, maedame. We couldn't find anything for you. But trust me—no one's going to be looking at your feet." She smiles, and after delivering some final instructions from Aster, she leaves.

When dinnertime comes, I hesitate at the top of the infirmary stairs. My instinct is to sneak out the door, but a trailing skirt and wooden slippers don't really facilitate sneaking. Chest tight, I push open the door, hold my head high, and descend as gracefully as my clunky shoes allow. The train whispers on the stairs behind me.

At the table, Illesiarr and Elénna both look up. Her jaw drops. The physician's expression is much harder to read. I feel like I owe them some explanation, but I don't know what to say. Their eyes weigh on me as I make my way to the door.

"Maed Riveaux."

I pause at the doorframe and look back to Illesiarr. Concern marks his face.

"Take care."

The words add to my anxiety, but I nod and gather my skirts to slip out the door. When I make it to the dining hall, Ladies are already filtering through, and I slip in among them. Instead of glow crystals, the hundred flickering candles of an elaborate chandelier light this room. Tapestries drape the walls, and servants camouflage themselves beside them. Across the center, a long mahogany table stretches the room with the three royals at its head.

Per the maid's instructions, I take my place at the farthest end of the table, letting everybody sit ahead of me. A few women look my way and point me out to their neighbor, but as people settle into their own conversations, I'm mostly shrugged off and ignored. My novelty has all but worn off when the weight of an intent stare lands on me. I look up and catch my breath. Far down the table, Shava watches with the dark, analytical eyes of an owl. I try to nod at her but find myself paralyzed by strange guilt. I'm not doing anything wrong, I beg her to understand. I'm not betraying Riszev.

Shava's gaze slides off of me, and I breathe again.

Courses come and go. My skin feels like it's buzzing; I close my eyes and take a deep breath, hoping it's just nerves and not Vihnzeirre. Desert is a flaky pastry I can't taste. As I take another bite of it, Aster leans over to his sister.

She nods and raises her glass. A hush ripples down the table, and beaming, she says, "The Chosen Second has something he would like to share with you all."

Her glass lowers, and Aster stands, keeping his hands on the table even after he's pushed up. A silent second stretches as he looks out over everyone. His eyes catch with mine for a moment, and a smile twitches on his lips. Then his gaze finishes the round, and he speaks.

"I have something to offer tonight that some of you may not be pleased with. But I have considered it soundly, and as much as I hate to upset any of you, I know I'm making the right decision."

The Ladies stir. He focuses on me now.

"Maedimoielle Eleaviara Riveaux is a dear friend of mine. I have known her for quite some time now—since before the siege—and I find her to be a confident and generous woman, well-principled and admirable." He looks around, meeting eyes with each of the women of the Table but avoiding the Retrans. "Regardless what any of you think of me and my opinions, I implore you to acquaint yourself with her, treating her with such kindness and honor as what with she carries herself."

He draws himself up, hands coming off the table, and starts the long walk around it toward me. His steps are slow, and I wonder how much effort it is to keep each one steady. About halfway around, he pauses, swaying ever so faintly.

He takes back up his speech against the Ladies' tense hush. "Maedimoielle, you are intelligent and beautiful. Your blood may not be that of a noblewoman's, but you have all the decorum, grace, and goodwill of a woman who belongs in the court." Slowly, he starts walking again, and the women rustle, murmurs rising under his words. "You have been kind to me when you did not have to be. You have helped me when no one was asking you to do so. You have consigned yourself to things that gave no benefit to you, only because you thought they were right."

He stops, feet from me, and I stare at him. I know his speech is part of the act, but I can't help my heart's fluttering dance.

"So, maedimoielle, I humbly ask you to do for me yet one more favor. Stand at my side, all the coming days of my life, and let me, through the crown and the blood of Jacqueline that runs in me, support and care for you in turn. Would you, Leavi Riveaux, marry me?"

The room falls into stunned silence. My heart's dance quickens, and I rise carefully, carrying all the room's eyes. I step forward to meet him, my train sighing against the stone. My hands feel helpless against my side, and I extend one to Aster, palm up, the way people do sometimes to greet each other. He takes the tips of my fingers, and we hang there as my throat tries to form words.

"The stars above could give me no greater honor than to be your bride."

At the other end of the table, Varziy stands and throws her napkin onto her plate. "You invite us to see this?"

Queen Selenia gapes like a fish on a line, and Varziy storms out, Shava silent at her heels.

Aster pulls the papers from his cloak and gestures to a servant. "Quickly, now," he murmurs to me. "While everyone's still here."

The servant brings ink and quill, and I flatten the papers against the table. Ladies' voices ring across the dining room as I scribble my name on the bottom of the page. I move to the side, and Aster signs as well. When I look up, the Queen is gone.

"Leavi."

I turn back to him. Amidst the chaos, a soft smile lifts his lips, and something glitters in his hand. "Will you accept these?"

Two long, silver hairpins lie in his palm, capped with tiny white gems. My heart stills its dance. "Aster, they're gorgeous."

"Wear them so the others can see."

Carefully, I slip them crossed into the base of my bun. He catches my hand as it comes down and holds it in the air. "My Queen's court," he calls, and some of the crosstalk dies down. "May I present you your Princesse Consort."

Conversation rises again, and some of the Ladies move to push out of their seats. Aster uses my hand to turn me. "Come, before we're mobbed." Closest to the door, we escape into the peaceful silence of the hall.

Once there, his holding my hand becomes more like leaning on my hand, and our pace slows. His ragged breaths are knives in my ears.

"Did that go exactly as you had planned?"

"Ahm... Yes and no. I knew they would be angry. But you are my Consort now, aren't you?"

I nod, smiling. "Yes. I suppose I am." He stumbles a step, and I help steady him. "Where should I take y—"

Boots thud behind us, and Aster turns. A man storms down the hall toward us, his face a thundercloud, and I stiffen.

The Captain.