“Excuse me?” a voice called. A thin man stood in the open doorway to the courtyard. He hesitated on the steps, dodging the passing workers. “May I enter?” He coughed, waving a handkerchief before his face.

Amilia looked at him and shrugged. “Why not? Everyone else is.”

He took several tentative steps, glancing up fearfully, his arms partially raised as if to ward off a blow. A thin, brittle-looking man wearing a powdered wig, a brilliant yellow tunic, and striped orange britches, he stood taller than Amilia.

“Good day to you, my lady,” he greeted her with a bow as soon as he had cleared the activity. “My name is Nimbus of Vernes and I have come to offer my services.”

“Oh,” she said with a blank stare. “I don’t think—”

“Oh please, I beg of you, hear me out. I am a courtier formerly of King Fredrick and Queen Josephine of Galeannon. I am well versed in all courtly protocol, procedures, and correspondence. Prior to that, I was chamberlain to Duke Ibsen of Vernes, so I am capable of managing—” He paused. “Are you all right?”

Amilia swallowed. “I’m just in a hurry. I’m on my way to a very important meeting with the regent.”

“Please forgive me, then. It is just that—well, I have—” He slouched his shoulders and sighed. “I am embarrassed to say that I am a refugee of the Nationalists’ invasion and have nothing more than the clothes on my back and what little I have in this satchel. I have walked my way here and … I am a bit hungry. I was hoping I could find employment at the palace court. I am not suited for anything else,” he said, dusting his shoulders clear of the snowy debris that drifted down from the scaffolds.

“I’m sorry to hear that, but I’m not—” She stopped when she saw his lip tremble. “How long has it been since you’ve eaten?”

“Quite some time, I am afraid. I have actually lost track.”

“Listen,” she told him. “I can get you something to eat, but you have to wait until after my meeting.”

She thought he would cry then as he bit his lip and nodded several times, saying, “Thank you ever so much, my lady.”

“Wait here. I’ll be back soon … I hope.”

She headed off, dodging the lathered men in leather aprons, and slipped past three others in robes, holding measuring sticks like staffs and arguing over lines on huge parchments spread across a worktable.