chapter 16

I’ve just rejoined the crowd in the mezzanine when a thrall bearing the sigil of the king on his jacket approaches.

“From his majesty, King Nathaniel,” the thrall says, and hands me a small black envelope.

Inside, a crisp card with strong, slanted script reads:

Ms. Dixon—

It has come to my attention that I’ve put you in an unfavorable situation. I would like to make it up to you. Come to dinner at the royal residence. Friday, eight o’clock.

Nathan

I swallow and read it a second time before stuffing it guiltily into my clutch. Scanning the crowd, I search for any sign that my sisters or Ashton or worst of all, my Mother, has seen the thrall passing notes to me like the king and I are in middle school. To my relief, the subtle flickering of the lights overheard, like a signal to a theater audience to take their seats, distracts everyone. They’ll go down to a set of ritual dressing chambers first to change into ceremonial robes, then they’ll take their place in the circle with the others