The letter came about two weeks after the incident at Lady Judana's. 

"My word!" Exclaimed the Lady Zena, upon reading its contents. "My word!"

Saya heard her mother a floor up. She privately rolled her eyes before leaving her room and proceeding down the stairs with a measured step. 

"MY WORD!"

A few moments later, Saya was in the doorway of the drawing-room.

"What is it, mother?"

"King Moguire has written us directly! He wishes that I come to visit him at Rhys Manor!" 

Saya was surprised, to say the least. She'd never met anyone remotely important before. 

"May I read the letter, mother?"

"What, to check for spelling mistakes?"

"No, mother, I'm merely consumed with excitement and wish to see it for myself," Saya explained, and she meant it. A friendship with Moguire the Great could certainly cultivate an advantageous marriage. Saya was fairly certain that Moguire's nephew Callen was still unbetrothed. Rumor had it that the boy might be named as successor to the throne. You could never be certain about rumors, but it would be an advantageous match nonetheless. It would make Saya a duchess at least.

Zena handed her daughter the letter and began talking a mile a minute about her wardrobe. Saya looked over the letter carefully, attempting to memorize it in case her mother wouldn't let her see it again. Then she stopped.

"Mother, this letter says that my attendance is requested," Saya said demurely.

"He even sent me money for the journey! I'm in terrible need of some new dresses. I won't be remotely presentable at court with my current wardrobe."

"Do you intend to bring me with you?" Saya asked quietly. 

Zena stopped her parading and looked tenderly upon her daughter.

"Oh, my love, would that I could!" Zena pushed back a loose strand of Saya's dark hair. "But no man will marry you if he meets you beforehand."

Saya felt her heart sink. She knew that she was unlovable, but she had been hoping that she could change. She couldn't stand being such an embarrassment to her mother. She was going to end up just like Lady Judana if she didn't do exactly as her mother said.

"Are you certain it won't offend his majesty if you deliberately ignore his request?"

"Oh, my dear, you have no idea how any of this works. Let me take care of everything."

***

His majesty was offended. 

It had been weeks since his letter had been sent --along with a generous sum-- and now the person he had specifically requested to see was not before him. A once-in-a-lifetime letter from the King himself, completely ignored! He had been warned that he would be dealing with an idiot, but still he was unprepared for the astounding obliviousness of this woman. 

Moguire tried to contain his fury as he looked down on the bowing Lady Zena before him. He beckoned her to rise.

"Pray tell, Lady Zena, why your daughter could not be bothered to come to court upon request?" Moguire asked.

The rest of the court watched, bug-eyed, waiting for the woman's answer. 

"Oh, Your Majesty," Zena began with an affected tone. "My dear Saya wanted nothing more than to be graced by your presence here at court. She was deeply honored and humbled at your request."

"I asked not that she be honored or humbled, but that she be here. Where is she?"

A collective breath was drawn among the members of the elite. Zena now visibly looked uncomfortable.

"Why, she caught a simply terrible cold, Your Majesty. I am afraid I had to leave her behind."

Moguire felt his lips purse. 

"What a shame, my Lady. Nonetheless, welcome to court." 

Zena curtsied again and found a place to stand towards the side as the next person filed in. Moguire beckoned Aled forward, and his advisor knelt subtly beside the throne.

"Take care of that situation. I expect the girl to be at court tomorrow." Aled nodded and proceeded towards Zena. He had warned Moguire against utilizing the Shriyer women and was already consumed by annoyance in regards to his assignment.

"Would you mind terribly a private audience, Lady Zena?" the King's advisor asked. 

Zena smiled knowingly, replying with an unnecessarily loud voice. 

"Of COURSE, Lord Aled!" Zena replied enthusiastically. " So long as you compose yourself in a gentlemanly manner!"

Aled Wick winced. 

"That's the only way I ever conduct myself, madam. Just this way, please."

Wick felt the gossiping glances following Zena as he felt his frustration grow. No doubt they all thought she was about to be reprimanded for her behavior. Little did they know that she could be days away from the greatest prize in the country. Wick rolled his eyes privately as he led the outrageous woman to a side room, closing the door tightly behind him.

"My Lady, the King is deeply saddened by your daughter's sudden illness. He commands that you return to your home and tend to her."

"But, my Lord, my daughter is perfectly fine. She is in the care of the servants. There's nothing I could possibly do to make her better, anyway, and His Majesty needs me here."

"His Majesty understands, but could simply not bear it if her death were on his conscience. It is his command that you return home to tend to your daughter, and only return once your daughter is well enough to present herself at court. King Moguire has given you his fastest carriage to borrow, you may be able to make it back mere hours after nightfall if you leave now."

Zena arrived at Rhys in the King's carriage the next evening, daughter in tow. 

"A miracle!" she exclaimed to all who would listen. "I found her better than ever upon my return. Must have been the chamomile! Either that or the Holy Grandfather was by her side!"

It quickly became apparent that Saya could not be presented to the King. Her dress was a horrible muddy color and was so small that the stick-skinny adolescent appeared to be swollen all over. The dress shockingly reached to just above her ankles, and the course fabric had been poorly maintained. The girl felt the eyes of everyone who walked past widen slightly before they turned to speak to others secretively. Saya grew red. Zena tried to be allowed inside the throne room as she had the day before, and one of the ladies stepped out. 

"I'm afraid that the Lady Saya cannot be received until she looks respectable," the Lady explained to Zena.

"Well, it's not my fault that my husband left this earth with near nothing for us! How dare you?" Zena replied.

"You misunderstand me, Lady Zena," the woman replied. "I am more than happy to lend one of my own dresses to your daughter."

Saya's mother continued to walk and complain as the pretty young woman held Saya's hand and led her upstairs to her rooms. At the door, she turned and faced Zena, explaining that her rooms were too small for the three of them. Zena would have to wait outside. Zena complained again but remained where she was as Saya was led into the bedroom, the door closing behind her.

"I am Lady Violet. It's a pleasure to meet you, Lady Saya."

Saya curtsied. "I thank you for your kindness, Lady Violet."

Violet smiled sweetly and began poring through her wardrobe in search of something appropriate. She finally stopped at an emerald green number and held it out.

"This should do. It's too small for me, now, but you're just so skinny. I suppose we'll have to make the most of it."

Saya began removing her clothes as Violet passed her the shimmering gown. The girl slipped into it easily and ran her fingers through the silk in an enchanted trance. 

"This is the most beautiful thing I have ever worn, Lady Violet. Thank you so much for your generosity."

"Of course. I could not have you embarrassing yourself in front of the whole court. We women help other women," she quipped confidentially. 

Saya had never been thought of as a woman before. She felt herself glow.

"Let's go introduce you to the King, my lovely Lady," Violet said, leading her out of the room. 

"That is far too large on you, my dear!" was the first thing out of Zena's mouth. Violet ignored her and Saya followed suit as she was led to the throne room downstairs. 

She stood beside her mother outside the front door as they were announced to the great King. Saya suddenly felt a sudden overpowering need to shit herself. 

The door was opened, and the whole room turned to look at her. There were long rows of tables with hundreds of golden dinner plates and shining wine goblets. A long table had been placed in front of the throne for the meal, and several chairs stood on either side of the King's chair. With every glance, Saya became more aware of how large the dress was on her. She struggled not to trip on the several inches of fabric that swam around her feet.

Saya stepped nervously alongside her confident mother. When she felt she was at an appropriate distance, she curtsied deeply before her sovereign, averting her eyes respectfully. She felt her mother curtsy beside her as well.

"Rise," King Moguire commanded, and both women stood straight. 

"It is a pleasure to meet you at last, Lady Saya. I fear I must apologize. I sent your mother some money to buy you a wardrobe worthy of court. I clearly did not send enough. I couldn't be more embarrassed," he apologized, glancing unsubtly at Lady Zena's luxurious new gown even finer than the one from the night before.

Moguire was testing her, and Saya sensed it. She wondered if Duke Callen was present.

"Your Majesty is far too generous," she replied. "I can't say I know much about the family expenses, but I am honored that Your Majesty would think of me at all. Lady Violet was kind enough to lend me a gown suitable enough for this evening."

Moguire smiled. "Lady Violet is a kind woman, indeed. And such elegant taste."

"SUCH elegant taste!" Lady Zena interrupted. 

"Um, yes," Moguire nodded, and turned his attention back to the girl. "Lady Saya, it would honor me if you sat at my table this evening."

Saya felt her heart pound against the seams of her skin. She curtsied again.

"If it would please Your Majesty."

"Oh, how LOVELY!" Zena exclaimed. "We'd be simply honored!"

"Actually, Lady Zena, Lord Lewis is rather excited to have you at his table."

Zena smiled uncomfortably as she curtsied, and went to sit with Lewis.

Saya awkwardly proceeded towards the front of the room, feeling as if she were doing something wrong. Moguire gestured to the chair on his right, and she blushed in nervousness as she sat.

"So, Lady Saya," Moguire started as a servant began piling spicy sausages onto her plate. "How many languages do you speak?"

"Only three," she replied self-consciously. "Old and New Adraean, and Vistilian. But I would love to learn Musilan or Zahranese next."

"I have been told that you are something of a brilliant student, my Lady. Your old Magister reported to me that he had never seen such genius in a student, male or female."

Saya grew beet red. She had never really considered herself good at or worthy of anything, and now the greatest monarch in her country's whole history was singing her praises. It was all too much, and she replied with an icy nervousness.

"I am sure you have been told wrong, Your Majesty. I greatly enjoy my studies, but I am hardly an unusual talent. In fact, I'm afraid my current Magister would say quite the opposite."

"Yes, I was told the old Magister was fired in favor of one your mother liked more."

"I trust my mother's judgment."

"Of course, my Lady," Moguire retreated as he sipped some stew from his spoon. "What are your thoughts on Demitrou?"

Saya immediately perked up, warming to the conversation a little.

"Oh, he is a favorite of mine! I've read all of his treatises, I think he is absolutely brilliant. Of course, I do wonder if some of his opinions on how people should be governed are a bit idealistic. I assume there must be a great chasm between what should happen and what does happen, and I doubt his philosophies can be applied to every scenario as he claims. After all, who is he to claim he understands the inner workings of politicking if he has only been an observer of the end result, and not of the sacrifices that were made to achieve that end?"

Moguire raised an eyebrow. Saya went cold again, deeply embarrassed by her tirade. 

"I apologize, Your Majesty," she whispered. "I know my opinionated nature is my deepest fault and is unbecoming of a Lady. I hope you will not hold my mother responsible for my own defects."

Moguire sighed, and looked at the young girl kindly. 

"My dear, if your mother is the one responsible for your faults, she deserves far more credit than I previously believed."

***

Want to cast the characters in this book? Go to mycast.io and search for "Pawn" to vote on your favorite choices for each role, and even suggest some actors of your own!