Chương 152: Chapter 173: Eggvitational

I've picked an eggshell-white dress to wear, with bright yellow underskirts and yellow accents and highlights. It's thematic! I'm taking a risk, wearing an egg-like outfit just the week after I invented Halloween, I don't want to pigeonhole myself as the girl that wears themed costumes. I've moved my grapefruit pendant necklace to a gold chain, and some gold bangles on my wrists. Hair pinned up in a sleek round ballerina bun, pinned with gold barrettes and a foil wrap of gold that looked like unmeshed lace.

Elegant and striking, high presentation. I bustle about, checking lanes, making sure we've got enough flags and pennants in the standby rooms, touching base with the healer we've got on hire for the night because accidents happen when people are running, drunk, and distracted. One thing I did not need to bother checking was the supply of eggs. I've finally solved that problem. Conjured eggs. We're using a series of deep maroon rugs, very low pile but very dense weave.

It looks very luxe, it's very "red carpet event", but it will show up a dropped egg very sharply, very obviously. The refreshments are on point, we're sticking mostly with cold-served snacks, light and not too rich, and the same cascade of weak-to-strong drinks we used last year. But there are new features as well. In a recessed space near the front door, a small shrine to Cousin Wendy. A tripod stand with a reproduction of one of her portraits, a wreath of flowers, and a table for condolence cards to stand.

This was given its own space, something respectfully detached from the more raucous events we are planning. The north side of the venue is given over to box seats, viewing, and gambling. I've hired a croupier with a roulette wheel, because it's one of the most consistent games to favor the house, which is me. And there's another table nearby, with a fine blue-silk tablespread, several comfortable chairs, and a familiar face.

"All settled in?" I asked.

"I'm ready to win back my inheritance," Elica said with a fierce grin.

"But where are the gorillas?" For a moment I thought she actually expected there to be primates at this event, but then I twigged to her meaning.

"Ah. The server that covers this section is one of our security staff, and so is the croupier right over there. We'll have another one in the nearest box seat, right there. Kimothy is going to be stationed close by, checking for sigils. Don't worry, my lady, you're in good hands." Elica was dressed in blue velvet, the same shade as the tablecloth but a very different texture and matte, so she clearly matched without blending in.

She wore a moonstone brooch in her hair that held peacock feathers arching upwards, distracting and flashy. In addition we had some concession bookies that would be strolling around and yammering out the odds, handing out betting slips and taking penny bets only. They were mostly for flavor but also to get the audience used to a little exchange of money. If anyone wanted hotter action than a copper penny or clippings, they were directed back to the roulette and poker tables.

I walked it all over a second time, checking the mezzanines and balconies, making sure we had three different drawing rooms available for those that would need them. Everything stocked, everything ready. Only one thing left to do. I walked to the middle of the main floor, and put my hands on my hips.

"Perfect," I said aloud, "Everything is ready." And then I held out my hand, sweeping out, Vanna White presentation.

"Lady Natalie!" gasped a breathless assistant, approaching just as I finished my wave.

"Something's wrong."

"There it is," I said with a bright smile on my face. I'm not happy that something's gone wrong. I'm just happy that there are some things you can always count on.

"What is it?" I snap the fingers of my outstretched hand, and from the MC's podium a sheaf of papers came flying my way.

"It's the king, the queen," the assistant bleated." They're here."

"Ah," I said, flipping to page four. It only took a second to run my finger down to the appropriate entry.

"Take them directly to the first drawing room, all honors and presentation," I said. I walked across to the MC's podium, and picked up the wired microphone. There was no feedback, I had considered programming some in just for the effect but instead I preferred clarity.

"Ondre to the main floor, Ondre to the main floor," I said into the wand's end, and then set it back down. That was Skip's mike, mine was a new model that was made to work without wires, but I didn't have it on me right then. When Ondre arrived I was rearranging the seating in the Freckentop section, making room at the front center. Ondre had seen my list, and so his immediate reaction was "oh no". He could see what I was doing and he knew why.

He did not even speak to me, but reached for his pocket and sprinted to the servant's corridor. He still doesn't think that I know about his cell phone. It's cute. I fly over to the standby room and my spells snatch up two richly-made thrones that we were not supposed to need, and I sling them over to take their place of pride with a command view of the racing track. On the one hand it feels very inappropriate that they would crash this party.

Not just because the royal family does not as a rule crash parties without several weeks of careful preparation and communication. But also because this is my party and one of the ones that I've organized specifically to fuck with their business. And also because they just finished a week-long vigil of mourning for the daughter that I'm widely suspected of killing. And also because this party is doing double-duty as a memorial to my own dead cousin. But finally, because of the parties I'm hosting, why this one?

It just feels odd, because this is the silly one, the low-stakes one. Why didn't they brace me at the harvest festival, or at my birthday, why this awkward spot in the middle? The first server I see gets a tap on the shoulder, a breeze hard enough to feel like a solid object yet controlled enough to be polite.

"Hey, up here," I said, coasting overhead.

"Tell the chef we've got a royal presence. She should have instructions for this occasion." The server nodded and dashed away. This party is the one that they would be least able to break my momentum or quell my maneuvers. It's the lowest-stakes event on my calendar, which is publicly-known to persons far less prestigious than the royals. So why this one? It is probably a confluence of factors and variables that are outside of my view, other machinations that made this a better opportunity than those other days.

Because I need to ignore that little voice inside me that wants to point out that because this is the lowest stakes gala, it's also the safest one for them. I cannot afford that sort of thinking. It is arrogant hubris and it will encourage me to lower my guard. I settled myself on the ground before the doors, and composed myself. No mirror here, just do my best. Check my hair, my dress, my necklace.

I skipped makeup because my natural coloration is perfect for the occasion- the eggshell color of the dress shows off how paper-white I am. I roll the pages in my hand into a tube, and then with a flick of my hand I open the doors and step inside. King Vobel Iristo Loed Freckentop sat on a lushly plush settee, elbow on the armrest, his head leaning on his palm. He was not wearing the full crown of state, which was a huge relief, just the lightweight traveling crown of office.

His wife, Queen Czoverenne Rithika Rayenne Freckentop, sat on a highback chair near the mantlepiece. Four fully-armored knights behind them, two more on either side of the door I just walked through. And of course I feel all the connection I have to my sorcery fail instantly as soon as I come within eyesight. The regent has much better countermeasures than Lachel ever did. I recognize them from the game, they come up a lot during Act 2 and Act 5.

The king looks like he was born to be crushing beer cans on his head and hazing pledges, the queen looks like someone tried to assemble my mother from memory but got everything wrong by a quarter-inch. There's a family resemblance but not a great one. Still, first time meeting them in person.

"Your majesties," I said, dipping a curtsy low, eyes down. I hold that pose for a count of eight before the king chooses to acknowledge.

"Lady Harigold," he says in return, and I stood up, and stepped in past the threshold. The guards behind me push the doors shut. The guards are a badge of office to remind one and all that these people are important and powerful and respected.. It's also an implied threat, in case respect needs some fear. And, also, it's a very viably pragmatic policy to have in place.

Because there is definitely a younger version of me that would have knocked out the building supports and killed them in a building collapse already. Also a younger version of me that would throw a chair at them as soon as I saw them. I had a huge amount of hate for them in my heart. And I do hate them enough to kill them. Unlike Lachel, they were not innocent of any of this. But I am learning how to bide my time and how to take a humiliating loss early if that is what is needed.

"I was told that your majesties were at the premises and I have come to offer my respects. I trust all is to your liking?" He sniffed.

"Staff is attentive, and the appointments are better than expected." He left a pause, for me to fill in whatever implied criticism I felt best. Maybe he could not object to anything but the company that was present.

"My wife and I felt it was high time that we spoke to our young cousin in person. To see what the fuss is about." Second cousin twice removed, I thought to myself. And for him, it's only that much by marriage. I held my poise, my hands folded very loosely together in front of me.

"Fuss, your majesty?" Queen Czoverenne let out an exasperated noise.

"Coy and innocent is fine for public occasions. You had us brought to chambers, we will speak in chamber." I dipped another curtsy.

"I had the understanding that regents and regnants were to be brought immediately to the most comfortable furnishing available, I apologize sincerely if my learning was in error and another protocol should have been observed. I meant no offense or presumption by this act."

"Nah nah, this was right," the king said, waving me to stand again. Not to sit, mind you. I'm still standing in the middle of the carpet with big men at my back and in front of me, the royals seated and bracketed out diagonally so I'm in the crosshairs. It's a deliberate move on their part. I can't even channel anything to make this easier.

"Look, we are in chambers, and it's a ruler's pejorative to say whether we're court or chambers, so we'll speak in confidence here." He meant prerogative, not pejorative. Nobody corrected him.

"As your majesty commands," I say, and curtsy.

"Ah, hells, girl, stop doing that," he demanded.

"Stand up straight, would you. Now then, as we were saying?" The queen spoke again, picking up where she left off.

"Perhaps fuss is not the word to use. Conflict. Struggle. Slander, even. There has been hard feelings between yourself and ourselves, and it seems wrong that we never should speak face-to-face."

"As your majesty says," I acknowledge, nodding. Her lips tighten slightly, her eyes darken. The king looks bored.

"Look, we're trying to give you a chance to say your piece. Now's the time, this is the place."

"Yes, your majesty," I say again, nodding. I agree with what they say, speaking to their title. Over and over.' I concur with what you say because I am bound to do so by the oaths sworn by my father and mother. Only that and no more'. There was a pause. They watched me. They intended the silence to put pressure on me. It did not. I like the quiet. Who knows where that stalemate could have gone, but servants arrived with glasses of sherry and plates of hors d'oeuvre, serving to their majesties with gracious manners.

The royals took the offerings and dismissed the serving staff. The queen sighed.

"Someone spoke to me, a story from mouth to ear, over and over. I was curious about a detail. That pendant at your throat, is that the one you always wear?"

"I do not wear it at all times, your majesty," I said with perfect truthfulness.

"But it is the one I wear most often."

"It has significance?" she said, prompting me.

"It was a gift, your majesty. It reminds me of many things. About lives, and time, and experience. It reminds me which day I am living in, and what truly matters in this world. And it reminds me why I am here."

"Let me see it," she instructed, holding out her hand. And in that moment I flare. I want to flinch back or yell at her. I want to hold my hands over my sternum and hide it from her sight. To deny her. It is a sharp impulse, and fast-moving. I think all of it flashed over my face before I mastered myself. I took stock, rallied myself, and then I reached up and unclasped the chain. I did not move from where I stood, but I handed it to one of the guards behind me.

His steel-shod feet thudded down three times, past me, to her side, and set the necklace in her palm. I stared at it as if keeping my eyes on it would make sure nothing happened to it. Make sure that it got back to me. It was a gift, I wanted to snap at her. From a man who was ordered to take care of me, and did more than he was ever asked. From someone who saw vulnerability and chose to protect it until I could be strong again. From someone who never flinched from me, hid from me, or lashed out at me.

"Ah," she said, dangling it in the candlelight.

"It looks like a sunburst, but it is not. The round side studded with citrines, the fine silver filigree, the tiny topazes... A grapefruit, cut for eating."

"Yes your majesty," I said.

"Why?"

"Because that's what it's all about," I said.

"Expensive grapefruit. The richer the better. For this, the Blight. And all the runoff effects that is going to have over the next four years." She watched me carefully while she put the necklace back into the hand of the ceremonial guard. He walked to me, and offered it. I immediately moved to put it back around my neck. The king was nodding.

"Ah yes. It takes four years from planting for a cranberry bush to start fruiting, right? Thus the four-year paradigm." Not what the word means. Nobody corrected him. I paused, and watched them both. If I was ever going to tell them, this is the moment, right? No you jackasses, the damage is already done and the wheels are already in motion. It was always too late to warn you. If I had said anything early, you would have started a ruthless inquisition to find spies in your midst, and gone on with it anyway.

You put poison in the world and you never asked where it was going to end up. What happens when endless desperation finds the work of people too driven by greed to back down and too powerful to be careful. The more truth I share with them, the worse it will be. If I tell them about the Revolt, the tyrannical crackdown will be epic. If I warn them about the Upheaval, they will take it as an opportunity to punish their enemies and profit further.

If I let them know about the Blind, they will take steps to protect themselves at the expense of others. If I give them information in good faith, it will be turned against us, because they are just too corrupt to act in good faith. And the whole system that enables them. You cannot get honorable work from a corrupt system. If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

The cure for corruption is not to keep feeding it healthy bodies and good intentions and hope the corruption will be sated and turn to good. The cure for corruption is fire. I don't have enough fire yet. I must wait for spring.

"As you say, your majesty," I answer after my own long pause. I curtsy. He stares at me. He's read my face. Without my essences I could not have hidden my thoughts if I had wanted to. They both know what's in my heart. The king and the queen share a glance, a communication. She turns to me and asks, "Is that really all you have to say?"

"Please enjoy the party, your majesties. I shall presently send around my majordomo. You may have the use of this parlor, or there is suitable arrangements in box seating if you prefer. I would not presume whether your majesties would choose to join our competition." And with that, I have concluded our negotiations. There will be no peace between us. I will grant them nothing and I will ask no boon of them. The king shrugged.

"Well, I wish our business could have abrogated to everyone's satisfaction. But, the business is only half the reason we arrived, anyway. Tell us the terms of this game, Lady Harigold."