— CHAPTER ONE —

  The High Tower

  When I was young, my kingdom was a paradise. I would stand upon the high tower of the palace and look out on her beauty.

  If I leaned between the pale stone merlons, the city of Magnolia lay spread below me, a blend of spired towers and modern industry stretching south from the palace's mount. The green copper roofs of the stone buildings in the old town were interspersed with the colorful glazed tiles the modern architects loved. Further out, dark steel had taken root across the downtown while networks of pipes carried neon streams of mana through the streets. The river that cleaved the capital in two glimmered like a scar of liquid steel, and the white bridges vaulting it looked, from this height, as fine as lace.

  Further south, the city's order frayed and blurred. Streets snapped free from the old patterns and zig-zagged toward the new rail depot, or vanished altogether behind warehouses and factories. The great runic forges were already awake and working: clouds of colorful steam and the occasional whiff of witchfire signaled where the city's new bones were being set into place. Even at sunrise, the work of progress never paused.

  Beyond the last clusters of redbrick and slate, the land tumbled out into rolling hills, each patchwork field edged with silvery wire fencing or ancient hedgerows. The forest that girdled the capital was still shrouded in early fog, the tall trunks marching away into the mist, but the first rays of gold were already gilding the highest boughs. If I squinted, I could just make out the shore far to the north - a blue smudge of sea cliff on the horizon, sometimes glowing with the reflected dawn. But the southern view had always been my favorite. There, the central mountains rose in all their majesty, Mount Magnolia chief among them with its peak wreathed in clouds.

  In the distance, over the forests of the mountain slopes, a pair of biplanes swooped and dove, sunlight sparkling off their lacquered wings. They twisted and rolled around each other, playful as puppies, leaving trails of prismatic vapor spiraling behind them. One plunged while the other looped over it. They twisted together shortly before breaking in opposite directions, each repositioning to face each other again.

  "What freedom that must be." I whispered to myself. To soar above it all, unfettered by walls or protocol or destiny. To feel the wind whipping through your hair, to see the world spread out beneath you not as a queen seeing her realm, but as a bird seeing simply earth and sky. I closed my eyes and imagined it - the rumble of engines, the creak of wooden struts, the wings straining against the air, and nothing but the great wide world in all directions.

  When I opened my eyes again, the planes had disappeared beyond the horizon. I sighed and let my gaze fall to the palace grounds below, where the royal gardens sat. The flower beds created patterns visible only from this height - geometric designs of yellow, purple, and red blooms. And there, in the center, was the magnolia grove, the trees my family had cultivated for generations. The trees were in full bloom, their rainbow of blossoms open to the morning sun.

  "Your Majesty?"

  I turned to find Elara standing at the top of the tower stairs. My handmaiden wore her usual gray uniform, copper hair tucked beneath her cap, though a few rebellious strands had escaped around her face. She kept her eyes respectfully lowered, hands clasped before her.

  "Yes, Elara?" I smiled, trying to put her at ease. Despite years of service, she remained skittish as a fawn. I do wish she'd open up more; I didn't bite.

  "Lady Ariella requests your presence in the gardens, Your Majesty. She wishes to confirm the arrangements for tonight's reception."

  I couldn't help the smile that spread across my face at the mention of Ariella. My oldest friend, my confidante, the one person who made palace life bearable. "Did she say 'requests my presence,' or did she say 'tell Lavinia to get down here because I'm not doing all this work myself'?"

  "The latter, Your Majesty. Almost word for word."

  I laughed, already moving toward the stairs. "Well, we mustn't keep Lady Winters waiting. She gets positively tyrannical when left alone with pruning shears for too long, and I should like to maintain my mother's gardens."

  Elara stepped aside, her eyes still downcast but her lips twitching with suppressed amusement, and I descended the winding stone staircase. The interior of the tower was chilling compared to the sun-warmed battlements, and I shivered a tad as we wound our way down. We'd had heating put in, but those old sections of the palace never took well to it.

  I hurried through to the northern gardens, exiting onto the second-floor landing, where a symphony of scents washed over me - rich earth, sweet nectar, and that lovely perfume of my magnolia blossoms. I quickly descended the stairs to the patio and followed the mossy stone path past the central fountain, where water splashed cheerfully over carved stone nymphs, into the grove of magnolias. Birds called to one another from the hedges, and the low thrum of insects formed a constant, comforting background.

  Deep within the arbor was Ariella. She stood with her back to me, reaching up to inspect a particularly large blossom, her honey-blonde hair catching the sunlight like spun gold. A basket already half-filled with blue flowers hung from her arm, and she hummed to herself as she worked.

  For a moment, I simply watched her, drinking in the sight. Her azure eyes, when she turned to spot me, sparkled with mischief. She wore a day dress in deep sapphire that complemented her warm complexion, and the silver snowflake pendant that marked her as a Winters hung around her neck.

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  "Finally!" She placed a hand on her hip. "I was beginning to think you'd abdicated and run off with a traveling circus, leaving me to face the decorating committee alone."

  I laughed. "If there was a circus willing to take me, I might have considered it. But I'd have taken you with me."

  "Oh, would you now?" She snapped her fingers, and an empty basket sitting in the shadow of one of the trees jumped into the air. It hovered before me until I took it. "And what would be my role in this grand escape? Lion tamer? Trapeze artist?"

  "Fortune teller." I decided, reaching up to select a blossom with waxy white petals. "You'd wear mysterious scarves and tell handsome strangers they're about to meet a beautiful queen."

  Ariella snorted, a most unladylike sound that she never let anyone but me hear. "And what would Your Majesty do? Surely not clean up after the elephants."

  "I'd be the woman shot from a cannon, of course!" I dropped the flower into my basket. "Flying through the air for three glorious seconds of freedom! Oh, or perhaps a clown! I'd like to see the smiles on the children's faces!"

  "If you want smiles, you could do far better than a clown."

  We moved among the trees, working side by side. Our shoulders brushed occasionally, and I found myself leaning into these small contacts. Ariella had a good eye for which blossoms would last longest in arrangements, and I deferred to her selections, though she did pick a significant proportion of blue.

  "Have you heard about the cook's new assistant?" Ariella asked. "The one with the mustache like a startled caterpillar?"

  I nodded eagerly. Palace gossip was my window into the lives of the people who populated my little world. "Elara says he's been slipping extra pastries to the scullery maids who smile at him."

  "Well, I heard from my maid that he's actually the illegitimate son of a duke from the western provinces, sent here to learn a trade because his father's wife threatened to poison him if he remained at their estate."

  "No! Which duke?"

  Ariella shrugged, reaching up for another blossom. "She wouldn't say. But I'm determined to find out."

  "You and your network of spies." I nudged her. "Sometimes I think you know more about what happens in this palace than Lady Marigold herself."

  "That old bat doesn't know half of what goes on under her nose. Did you see the new gowns delivered for the reception? The green silk would look stunning on you."

  I sighed. "Another uncomfortable dress to stand around in while making small talk about nothing of consequence."

  "Poor Lavinia," Ariella teased, "forced to wear beautiful clothes and be admired by everyone. Such hardship."

  "You know what I mean." I frowned at a blossom with slightly browning edges and discarded it. "It's all so... rehearsed. Everyone says exactly what they're supposed to say, and I say exactly what I'm supposed to say back. Nothing real ever happens. Sometimes I feel as if we're at the bottom of a well, and this life is merely a strip of the sky overhead."

  Ariella's expression softened. She reached up, and one of the high branches of a tree bent down to meet her, allowing her to pick a large pink bloom. She then turned to me. "The well is deep, but it does have good company." She tucked the flower behind my ear, her fingers lingering against my cheek. "There. The proper queen of the magnolias."

  Her face was close to mine, those azure eyes searching my own.

  I broke the tension with a nervous laugh, stepping back slightly. "Tell me about this new ambassador. You've met him before, haven't you?"

  Ariella allowed the moment to pass, though something flickered in her eyes - disappointment, perhaps? "Ambassador Bellamy? Only briefly. He made a stop at the port after new years and had some business with my father."

  "And you weren't a fan I take it?"

  "I found him to be very... predictable, all smooth talk and flattery. But he cuts quite the figure - tall, exotic, with that striking red hair. The ladies of the court will be all aflutter, I imagine."

  "And what of his customs?" I asked. "I'm told the Alba Colles court has strange ways - rituals with salt and fire, and a fondness for impractical hats."

  Ariella grinned. "I did once see a sketch of their summer regalia. The men wore capes covered in feathers and the women had shoes shaped like birds' claws. Can you imagine Lady Marigold's face?"

  I could, and I nearly dropped my basket with the effort of not laughing. "She'd pass out on the spot! Then rise from the dead just to outlaw feathers altogether. But I'm more curious about their magic - do you think their runework is so different from ours?"

  "I doubt it; even Rhienfeill has adopted the Roosen standards." Ariella said. "But they do make a great fuss about their 'ancestral arts.' My father says it's mostly theater for the foreigners."

  Our laughter filled the garden as we speculated about increasingly outlandish Alba Colles customs. I suggested they might greet each other by touching feet instead of hands, which sent Ariella into peals of giggles as she demonstrated how such a greeting might work.

  The sound of footsteps on the gravel path cut through our mirth. We both turned to see Lady Marigold approaching, her back ramrod straight despite her seventy-some years and the neck ruff giving her frail form some width. Her gray hair was arranged in an immaculate style, and her amber gown rustled with her strides.

  "Your Majesty. Lady Winters. I trust the flower selection is proceeding to your satisfaction? The delegation will arrive in less than five hours, and the decorating committee awaits your direction."

  "We've just finished selecting the blooms, Lady Marigold." I replied, my voice taking on the formal tone expected of a queen. "The color balance should be perfect for the Great Hall."

  "Indeed!" Ariella added. "We were about to bring them inside."

  Lady Marigold nodded, her gaze lingering on the flower in my hair. "Very good. The arrangements must be assembled immediately so the blossoms have time to settle before tonight's reception. I shall expect you both in the east salon within the hour to begin assembling the centerpieces. And no more shilly-shallying, Your Majesty; the stylist will need three hours to fix your hair."

  "Of course, Lady Marigold, thank you."

  She turned and made her way back up the path while we gathered our baskets.

  "Three hours with the stylist. What do they think your hair will do, rebel and smother the guests?" Ariella wondered. "Or perhaps it's a tactical measure, to make your crown less likely to slip off and concuss a visiting dignitary. If it comes to that, at least aim for Lord Blackthorn's head. He won't feel a thing."

  I bit back a laugh. "It's not that I mind the receptions, exactly. But the way they hover and fuss - sometimes I wish I could just walk in as I am. No fancy dress, no rehearsed smile. Just..."

  "Just you. I know. If it helps, think of it as a battle. You - the lone Queen - armed only with graciousness and a terrifying array of hairpins. Tonight, you are fighting for the future of Magnolia!"

  "You make it sound so heroic."

  "You are heroic! You're our Queen; you represent us all, taking the constrictions of that duty in stride so that we all may delight in your radiance. Like the sun, so distant yet growing its flowers. And if that makes these occasions our battlefield, then you are my general. Come, Your Majesty, let's go wage our war!"

  She picked up her basket and looped her arm through mine, leading me up the winding path back toward the palace.