realize in the past few weeks that part of what she had loved about it was the quiet, steady presence of Amarais. Paying her predecessor the final respects that were her due and her right hadn’t laid the sense of loss to rest.
She should be used to it. She’d done this before.
“Terafin,” Avandar said.
She turned to face him, one thick and scuffed leather volume in her hand. “I’ve got it.”
He nodded, as if the book had no significance; to Avandar, it had little. “You have three hours in which to prepare for your first public outing as The Terafin.”
She hesitated for a long moment, and then slid the volume back onto the shelf.
* * *
Haval was waiting for her in the West Wing in what had become her fitting room. He had already set up the tools of his trade; the stool upon which she might stand for adjustments in length of hem, the spools of thread and needles of varying thickness, and the pins which were such a necessary annoyance. Although Snow lounged in the corner, he had failed to insist on the creation of any new dresses. He nonetheless felt compelled to offer criticism of the clothing she did end up wearing. He was, in cat parlance, bored.
“You did not,” Haval said, “take Night with you.”
“I only went upstairs, Haval. I had six of the Chosen and Avandar with me at all times.”
“In the last eight weeks there have been four attempts on your life, at least three of which obviously involved magic.”
“Believe that I’m aware of that fact. Sigurne—”
He cleared his throat loudly.
“—The guildmaster expects to speak with me tomorrow. Again. The Order of Knowledge has been given permission to lay down whatever magics she feels will be useful to us in the months to follow. I have food tasters in and out of the kitchens and the dining hall before any meal; I am not allowed to snack without their presence. Daine is in full command of the healerie as we speak, and the previous four attempts on my life, while unsuccessful, caused enough injury that he’s unlikely to relax. I feel the absence of one cat is unlikely to make much difference within the manse itself.”
Snow hissed.
“I fully intend to have both Night and Snow on guard for my first walkabout in the victory parade.”
“You will take Lord Celleriant?”
“Yes.”
“And the Winter King?”
“No.” Although she was grinding her teeth in an attempt to keep half of her annoyance on the right side of her mouth, Jewel found Haval’s obvious irritation a boon. If the servants, the guards, and the Chosen accorded the office far more respect than Jewel found comfortable, Haval did not. “Have you heard anything new?”
“Of relevance? Possibly. It is not, however, of relevance right now. Standing still, on the other hand, is. Honestly, Jewel, you might spend more time in the company of young Finch; she adapts. You might absorb something.”
“I would, if Jarven were around less often.”
“I believe he is her central adviser on Council matters.”
“He’s also her boss—I consider it a conflict of interest.”
“Meaning you don’t care for Jarven ATerafin.”
“Something like that.”
“Finch seems fond of him. The inimitable Lucille ATerafin also holds him in some obvious esteem.” Haval stilled; he lost his pinched and parental look as his face became expressionless. “What do you see, Terafin?”
“I’ve had no visions involving Jarven.”
“Ah. Why do you dislike him? I will assume it is not for reasons of petty jealousy.”
Jewel glared down at him; the stool’s height gave her that advantage. “I don’t trust him.”
“Very well; you are obviously not a fool. He is, however, a valuable source of information. It is my considered opinion that he means no harm to either Terafin or Finch personally.”
“It’s not that I think he means harm,” she said, turning as he nudged her. “I just don’t think he cares if harm happens.”
“Astute. Irrelevant, but astute.” He stepped back, examining his work. “I believe Ellerson is waiting as well. The order of guards?”
“Torvan and Arrendas are in charge of that at the moment.” She stepped down, fussed with the skirts; they were a color of blue that most closely resembled the House Colors, but there was a wide swathe of white that ran from throat to ground, and the sleeves and hem were edged in black and gold. Every other member of the House Council was allowed, by mourning custom, to wear white and gold; The Terafin alone was exempt.
“Let me remind you, Terafin, that the victory parade—the