are already on the move, it’s too late. I pay more attention to
our history lessons than anyone else. If there’s one thing I’ve
learned, it’s that humans are stupid, small, and insignificant.
Merely a temporary blip on the face of this continent, and no
marriages or alliances or political posturing will save us.
T H E L I A
Everything is in motion.
I put on an inspired performance for Bayled the other day,
pumped full of just enough real heartbreak to get through to
him—a shadow of what I’d felt this spring when I found the
Baron’s farewell letter.
The silly trit ate it right up.
I thought he’d learned a little skepticism since Parsifal and
I, at a banquet many years ago, convinced him that the Count-
ess of Westhaven’s corset was untied. We suggested he be a
good lad and go stitch it back up for her. He got a full slap to
the face for that one. But as usual, Corene came to his rescue.
He’s from the North
, she told the Countess.
They do things differ-
ently there.
A lifetime of coddling doesn’t prepare someone to lead.
You must be assertive, Mother always said—but not by barking
orders. You must find the slim place where your desires and
theirs align.
I’ve seen a lot more of Bayled since our talk. He finds ways
to sit near me in every group lesson. We have meaningless con-
versations so Corene can overhear. We search for any excuse to
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