“Miss Baine,” Director Chen said patiently, but in the sort of tone one used on small children or half-wits, “the papers are currently presenting you as a sleazy gold digger, because they’ve never had a chance to interview you in person. Once they do, I am reasonably confident they will change their tune. But you have to be willing to talk to them.”

I let out a sigh. “Fine, I’ll do this interview in the morning,” I agreed, knowing in my heart I would regret it. “But I still plan on talking to Lord Iannis before I agree to do anything else. Who am I seeing?”

“You will be interviewed by Gena Chanie, a correspondent from Now,” Chen informed me. It was a celebrity-focused publication I’d seen on the magazine racks many times, though I’d never read it myself. “She’ll meet you in this room for the interview, unless you would prefer to see her in your sitting room?”

“No, here’s fine.” I set down my teacup, ready to be done with this conversation. It was bad enough I had to meet this journalist—no way was I inviting a stranger into my private suite. “Is that everything?”

“I believe so,” Director Chen said. “Unless you want to look through the list of suitable candidates to serve as your secretary now. I could advise you—”

“I’m sorry, but it’ll have to be another time.” I rose from my chair. “I have to prepare for the trip to Dara, and now that I have an interview scheduled for tomorrow morning, I have less time than I originally anticipated.” I allowed the slightest bit of censure to enter my voice.

“Of course.” Director Chen inclined her head fractionally, though she did not look contrite at the fact that she had, in my opinion, overstepped her bounds by scheduling all these interviews without consulting me first. “Good night.”

“Good night.” I walked out of the room, and barely, just barely, managed not to slam the door behind me. I had to improve my control over my emotions, and who better to practice on than one of the most infuriating women in Canalo?

8

Too restless to head up to my rooms yet, I went back out to the garden. By this time, the sun had set, and all that was left were the last faint streaks of purple, pink, and gold. The lanterns had turned on to help the crescent moon illuminate the darkness, and their warm, magical light gilded the plants, statues, and bushes. The evening’s serene beauty was at odds with the conflicted thoughts churning away in my head.