Ventus by Karl Schroeder

Karl Schroeder / Ventus / Page 262
and left the shaft. One of her maids curtsied outside. Galas
waved at her. "Our black gown. The velvet one. Be prompt!"
The girl curtsied again and raced away.
Galas entered the shaft again and closed the stout door
she’d had made for it. "Why now?" she said.
She kicked the door with her heel. "I’m almost dead! A
day, two days." Crossing her arms, she walked around the
room. "Bastards! You strung me up, after putting me here in
the first place!"
Well, it’s not like I haven’t done everything in my power
to disobey the Winds, she reminded herself.
She’d been wracked with tension for weeks now; so had
everyone here. Her courtiers and servants were true Iapysians,
and had no idea how to discharge such emotions. Galas
showed them by example: she laughed, she cried, she paced
and shouted, and whenever it came time to make a decision,
she was cool and acted correctly.
But it was all too late. Lavin had come to kill her--of all
people, why him? She had loved him! They might have been
married, had not an entire maze of watchful courtiers and
ancient protocols stood between them. She wondered, not for
the first time, if this was his way of finally possessing her. She
grimaced at the irony.
"Come on, come on." She hurried back to the door. Ah,
here came the maids, bearing gown and jewel box.
"Come in here." They hesitated; no one but her ever
entered this place. She was sure all manner of legends had
grown up about it. "Come! There’s nothing will bite you
here."
The three women crowded in with her. "Dress me!" She
held her arms out. They fell to their task, but their eyes kept
moving, trying to make sense of what they saw. Galas