Description: Chapter 1 "YOU AREN''T SUPPOSED TO be here." Jerinne Fendall felt the glare from the marshal at the palace gate even stronger than the hot autumn sun overhead. He tried to look down at her, but he wasn''t anywhere near tall enough, so he craned his neck in an attempt to intimidate. "I don''t think you''re right about that," Jerinne said. "I''ve been invited." "Nonsense," the marshal said. "Pips on your collar clearly mark you as an Initiate, and only Tarians and Spathians of Master rank are invited to the Royal Authentication. That''s how it is." Jerinne reached into the coat of her dress uniform and pulled out the letter. "That might be how it is, but I was still invited." Another marshal came up behind him and gave him a disapproving knock on the shoulder. "Kasmar, open your damn eyes. Miss Fendall is a special guest. Don''t you recognize her?" "Am I supposed to?" Kasmar asked. "Don''t you read the newssheets?" "Not much, no, sir." The other marshal-a chief by his rank insignia-shook his head. "Come along, Miss Fendall. I apologize for the inconvenience. Dayne''s already here." "My apologies, Chief," Jerinne said as they walked onto the palace grounds. This was the first time she had ever even been near the Royal Palace, let alone on the grounds, and her heart was fluttering despite herself. "If we''ve met, it escapes my memory." "Perhaps briefly, but not formally," he said. "Chief Donavan Samsell, but feel free to just call me Donavan." "Samsell, yes," Jerinne said. He had been the one in charge of administrating the election a few months back. "I thought you were assigned to another city now." "I was in Marikar for about a month," he said. "But after the latest atrocity and the scandal with Chief Quoyell, I was recalled to Maradaine." Scandal was selling it lightly. Quoyell had orchestrated mass murder on the Parliament floor, and was assassinated after his arrest. Needless to say, his tenure as head of security for the Parliament was disastrous. "You''re head of Parliament security now?" she asked. "Or the Palace?" "Well, the Palace marshals and the Parliament marshals need to work together on a day like today," he said with a chuckle. "But-sorry, I thought Dayne might have told you." "I''ve not seen Dayne much for the past week or so," Jerinne said. Both of them had taken a battering at the Kittrick Hotel, and Dayne seemed to be overwhelmed with duties at the Parliament since the atrocity incident. Jerinne thought it best to give him some space for a bit. "Ah, of course. Well, you should know that Parliament security will no longer be handled solely by the King''s marshals. Instead it will be a joint operation of the marshals, the Tarians, and the Spathians." That explained why Dayne had been busy. As the liaison between the Orders and the marshals, his hands would be kept full setting up something like that. "That''s why he''s here already." "Perfect aim on that," Samsell said. Jerinne followed him down the walkway, already crowded with people. Most of them were high-class swells-nobility, high-ranking officers in the military, members of Parliament-all of them in elaborate suits and exquisite dresses. Her own dress uniform, as crisply as it was pressed and as shiny the buttons, seemed shabby in comparison. He led her around a hedge wall down a marble stairway, and her breath was almost taken away. The royal courtyard was a splendor of colors in bloom. Jerinne had never learned anything about flowers, but now she was overwhelmed by the beauty and spectacle before her. "You all right, Miss Fendall?" Samsell asked. "It''s a lot to take in." Amaya Tyrell, Adept of the Tarian order, was at her side. "I mean, I''ve never seen its equal." "That''s for certain," Jerinne said. "Miss Tyrell," Samsell said, "I never had the opportunity to personally thank you for your role in defending the integrity of this election." "I appreciate your thanks," Amaya said with a nod. "That''s pretty much why Jerinne and I are here. Though if you ask me, the entire third-year Initiate cohort should have been invited." Samsell gave a weak smile. "I was not consulted, on many things." "Not blaming you," Amaya said. She hooked her arm around Jerinne''s. "Shall we, Initiate?" "Of course, Madam Tyrell," Jerinne said. The sun was already high and unseasonably warm for the end of Oscan. Usually by now the trees would be resplendent with golds and reds, but many were still bright green. "You''re slightly out of uniform," Amaya said once they were away from Samsell and down the walkway, to the area where many of the guests were milling about with drinks and food, chattering away about whatever the gossip of the day was. "I''m of the opinion that the dress uniform could use gloves," Jerinne said, holding out her hand for Amaya to inspect. "I think they go quite nicely." "I don''t disagree," Amaya said. "But the Grandmaster is here. He will also notice, and he will probably say something." "Oh no," Jerinne said flatly. "Perhaps I''ll lose ranking among the third-years." "Don''t joke," Amaya said. "You haven''t been ranked on the bottom in two months." While true, she had still been in the lower half. Jerinne''s time of being repeatedly ranked dead last ended shortly after mentors had been assigned. She had assumed it had been an orchestration to specifically deny her a formal mentor. Dayne''s position as her mentor was, after all, unofficial and informal. Denied a proper mentorship with one of the Masters or Adepts, Madam Tyrell- Amaya, she corrected herself. Amaya wanted Jerinne and Dayne to work together, away from the rest of the Tarians at the chapterhouse. She had been vague about why, but Jerinne trusted her. Jerinne spotted Dayne across the courtyard next to Lady Mirianne, looking slightly uncomfortable talking to several nobles. She noticed that Mirianne was not dressed like most of the noblewomen present, at least the older ones. No flowing dress with crinoline petticoats or whalebone corsets. Instead Lady Mirianne wore a deep blue suit jacket, tight-fit trousers, high boots, and a leather cap. A glance at the crowd showed that many of the younger noblewomen, while not matching Lady Mirianne''s defiant style, wore the same cap. "We seem to be out of the fashion," she said to Amaya. "Ah, the Marikar suncap," Amaya said. "She did say she would make it the thing for ladies in Maradaine this season, didn''t she?" Jerinne tried to make her way toward Dayne, but the crowd between them started to move together toward a raised platform. Jerinne didn''t see for what purpose at first, but then she noticed several people stepping up on the platform. Including a young man who was devastatingly handsome. That was not a thing Jerinne had a habit of noticing in any man. That''s how pretty he was, that even she had to acknowledge it. Then she saw the silver circlet he wore on his head, and realized who he was. "Ladies and lords and gentlepersons of all persuasions," Prince Escaraine said with a voice that washed over the crowd like it was carried by doves. "Thank you all for joining us on this glorious day. We are here, of course, to formally give the royal blessing to the newly elected members of Parliament, so they may start to do the good work of the crown and throne in the name of the king." The crowd gave a polite smattering of applause. "Normally, this benediction before the ceremony is given by my sister, but unfortunately she was unable to return to Maradaine at this time." Jerinne noticed that a few of the noblewomen near her whispered to each other, usually with a throaty chuckle or a sigh of exasperation. Perhaps there was some gossip or poorly kept secret about Princess Carianna. Jerinne didn''t know it, nor did she feel a burning need to know it. "Needless to say, I''m sure she would echo my sentiments on this day, as my cousin the king does, of how blessed we are in this country, that we have stood together for over two centuries, with a continuity of the throne, and continuity of the Parliament. That we have a civilized rule of law, governed by the people, presided over by the blessed line of Maradaine. This is what makes us Druthal, the great jewel in the crown of the world." More applause, now thunderous. "And now, can we have the new and re-elected members of Parliament come forward." The men standing on the back of the platform-twenty-three of them-stepped forward. Jerinne only recognized one of them: Ret Issendel, the former bishop whom Dayne enjoyed arguing with. The rest were just a sea of pompous-looking men in suits. Jerinne realized she was stuck in the middle of the crowd, no easy way to escape without making a scene. Yet another slog of political theater to endure. She glanced about to see where Dayne

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