She had traded her spectacular golden tree for a small crown of glittering green jewels that was likely worth millions but seemed modest in comparison. A chocolate-brown, diaphanous skirt hid her legs, secured by a wide sash of lighter russet embroidered with gold. The sash wound around her hips, clasped in place with an elaborate golden brooch showcasing a green gemstone the size of a walnut. A pale, rose gold top wrapped her ample breasts, leaving the soft stomach bare. Another wide translucent sash, this one green, completed the outfit, draping strategically over her shoulders and waist. She was barefoot and a dozen thin bracelets and anklets decorated her wrists and ankles.

She saw Caldenia and rose in one fluid movement, dipping her head. Her dark eyes sparkled. “Letere Olivione! You honor me.”

“Greetings,” Caldenia said, her face radiating menace. Her Grace, joy personified.

Lady Wexyn lowered herself to the chaise. Everything she did was beautiful. She was like a gifted artist who painted with her body instead of a brush.

Attendants appeared, deposited tea and snacks on a side table, and withdrew silently like brightly colored wraiths.

Caldenia scrutinized Lady Wexyn, who sipped her tea and fluttered her eyelashes.

“You look like your mother. Has she spoken of me?”

“Yes, Letere Olivione. At length.” Lady Wexyn nodded, her expression earnest and devoid of any subtlety.

“Then this will be quicker and simpler. If you interfere with my plans, I will kill every creature within your little Temple and explode the planet on which it perches.”

Okay then.

“Oh my goodness!” Lady Wexyn opened her eyes as big as they could go.

Caldenia narrowed hers.

Lady Wexyn gazed back at her, a picture of innocence.

A few moments passed.

“Dina,” Caldenia said. “Please leave us.”

I looked at her.

“I won’t harm her,” Caldenia said.

Great. Now if I refused, she would take it as an insult. Caldenia had never broken a promise to me, but there was always the first time.

“Do you wish to allow Her Grace to remain in your quarters?” I asked.

“Yes,” Lady Wexyn said. “It is a blessing to be in her presence.”

Blessing was one way to put it. “Should you encounter any difficulties, call my name.”

“I shall,” she promised with a solemn expression.

Why did I get a sense that I was being humored?

The two of them were looking at me. Both guests requested privacy for their conversation. Not much I could do.

“Very well.”

I walked away from the pavilion. Whether she liked it or not, Gertrude Hunt was Caldenia’s chosen sanctuary. I just had to hope she remembered that.

* * *