“Remember what I said about excuses. You are part of the nobility now, a person of privilege and power. I’ve given you means and with that comes responsibility. Now out with you. I’ve more work to do.”

Taking the parchments, she turned and walked toward the door.

“And, Lady Amilia, don’t forget that there were five imperial secretaries before you, and all of them were noble as well.”

“Well, if that don’t put a stiff wind in your main,” Ibis declared, looking at the patent of nobility Amilia showed him. Most of the kitchen staff gathered around the cook as he held the parchment up, grinning.

“It’s awfully pretty,” Cora pointed out. “I love all the fancy writing.”

“Never had a desire to read before,” Ibis said. “But I sure wish I could now.”

“May I?” Nimbus asked. He carefully wiped his hands on his handkerchief and, reaching out, gently took the parchment. “It reads ‘I, Modina, who am right wise empress, appointed to this task by the mercy of our lord Maribor, through my imperial regents, Maurice Saldur and Lanis Ethelred, decree that in recognition of faithful service and commission of charges found to our favor, Amilia of Tarin Vale, daughter of Bartholomew the carriage maker, be raised from her current station and shall belong to the unquestionable nobles of the Novronian Empire and will henceforth and forever be known as Lady Amilia of Tarin Vale.’” Nimbus looked up. “There is a good deal more, concerning the limitations of familial inheritance and nobility rights, but that is the essence of the writ.”

They all stared at the cornstalk of a man.

“This is Nimbus,” Amilia said, introducing him. “He’s in need of a meal, and I was hoping you could give him a little something.”

Ibis grinned and made a modest bow.

“Yer a lady now, Amilia. There isn’t a person in this room who can say no to you. You hear that, Edith?” he shouted at the head maid as she entered. “Our little Amilia is a noble lady now.”

Edith stood where she was. “Says who?”

“The empress and Regent Saldur, that’s who. Says so right on this here parchment. Care to read it?”

Edith scowled.

“Oh, that’s right. You can’t read any more than I can. Would you like Lady Amilia to read it to you? Or how about her personal steward? He has an excellent reading voice.”

Edith grabbed up a pile of linens from the bin and headed for the laundry, causing the cook to burst into laughter. “She’s never given up spouting how you’d be back scrubbing dishes—or worse.” Clapping his big hands, he turned his attention to Nimbus. “So, what would you like?”

“Anything, actually,” Nimbus replied, his hands quivering, shaking the parchment he still held. “After several days, even shoe leather looks quite appetizing.”

“Well, I’ll get right on that, then.”