Treacherous Witch

6. Ladies of the Court

"To make a favourable first impression at court, one need only remember three simple rules. Be presentable, delicate, and unassuming in manner. Remember that a lord has many important matters on his mind; always let him speak first. Above all: smile, smile, smile!"
Lady Briony Bretton's Guide to Court Etiquette for Promising Young Ladies

She was glad to leave the chamber below the temple. The seal's power made it almost impossible to focus on anything else. What she hadn't reckoned on was how overwhelming the rest of the day would be.

First, there were the ladies of the court. As Lord Avon had instructed, Priska took her to meet them. The ladies were gathered by a lovely summer house in the walled garden, fanning themselves under their parasols. They stood up when she approached, and she had never seen smiles fade so fast, as if she carried a bad smell.

What had she done wrong?

"You must be Lady Valerie," one trilled. "Gosh, you're Maskamery? What a lovely surprise!"

Ah.

One of the five ladies was also Maskamery. Valerie gave her a desperate look in hope of solidarity, and she got what she thought was an acknowledging look back, but she'd have to confirm that later. She thought the other four were Drakonian until one proudly informed her that she was from Enyr. Valerie only knew of it from schoolbooks and Prince Bakra who had spent some of his time in exile there. This was going to be tough.

The first lady who had spoken introduced herself as Lady Melody, consort of Lord Gideon. She had dark hair, strong brows, and a beautiful liquid voice. Valerie wondered if her mother had predicted her singing ability when she named her. Lord Gideon though? Does she know what he does to his prisoners?

Next was Lady Rose, consort of Lord Merlon, the Treasurer, who possessed a joyful smile and the radiance of youth. Then Lady Mona of Enyr, consort of Lord Sandford, the Master of Foreign Affairs. Lady Amilia, consort of Lord Warren, Master of Home Affairs. And finally, her fellow Maskamery, Lady Flavia, consort of Lord Thorne, the palace's resident bishop. No family names given. Perhaps they didn't consider that important.

"Sit," Melody invited her.

She did so a little awkwardly, joining the ladies perched on the wooden benches arranged around the summer house.

"We've heard so much about you," said Rose, making her wonder how fast news had travelled when she had barely been here for a day, "you must tell us how much of it is true!"

"Well," she said, "what have you heard?"

"That you're a consort of Lord Avon," said Rose.

"I am."

Her cover story was already out there. All she had to do was go with it.

"I can't believe he finally chose a companion and you're Maskamery," said Amilia. "We've all been throwing ourselves at him for weeks."

"Oh..."

"No, it makes sense," said Mona, who seemed to be the oldest of the group and the most poised. "He wants to ingratiate himself with the locals. What better way to do that than have a Maskamery woman on his arm?"

"I heard that he asked to have breakfast with you alone this morning," said Rose. "He must be smitten—is that true?"

"Well, I heard that she's a criminal who agreed to come to court to repent," said Amilia, "is that true?"

"Amilia," Melody scolded her. "Don't ask such things."

Maska help me, she thought. These women were remarkably well-informed.