“Well, that’s a relief,” she said sarcastically.

“Indeed.” He looked at her oddly. “Well, I must say you look fine. I do commend Olga to you; she is not as stupid as she appears and you will need to learn the high speech sooner rather than later—English is only spoken among the aristocracy.”

“Well, uh, okay.” She shuffled nervously. “I’ll try not to trip over any assassins, and I may even meet an appropriate husband.” She glanced at the coach as one of the horses snorted and shook its harness. She felt even more peculiar when she realized that she was not entirely lying. If marrying Roland—even having another child with him—would get him into her bed on a regular basis, she was willing to at least contemplate the possibility. She needed an ally—and friend—here, and he had the potential to be more than that.

“Indeed.” He nodded at her, and for the first time she noticed that there was a certain translucency to his skin, as if he wasn’t entirely well. “Good hunting.” And then he turned and strode away, leaving her to climb into the carriage and wait for departure.

Court Appearance

Court Appearance

Miriam’s first unpleasant surprise—after finding that the Tylenol was all packed in her trunks and inaccessible—was that the carriage was unheated and the leather seats hard. Her second, as she shivered and tried to huddle into one corner under a thick blanket, came as Olga swept up the steps and into the seat opposite her. Olga’s blonde hair was gathered up under a scarf and hat, and she wore a wool coat over a suit that made her look like a brokerage house yuppie. “Isn’t this wonderful?” she cooed as plump Lady Margit, in twinset and pearls by day, huffed and puffed up and into the seat next to Miriam, expanding to flow over two-thirds of it.

“It’s wonderful.” Miriam smiled weakly as the coachman cracked his whip overhead and released the hand brake. The noise and vibration of wooden wheels turning on cobblestones shuddered through her hangover as the coach creaked and swayed forward.

Olga leaned toward her. “Oh dear, you look unwell!” she insisted, peering into Miriam’s eyes at close range. “What could it be?”

“Something I drank, I think,” Miriam mumbled, turning away. Her stomach was distinctly rough, her head pounded, and she felt too hot. “How long will we be on the road?”

“Oh, not long!” Olga clapped her hands briskly and rubbed them together against the cold. “We can use the duke’s holdings to change teams regularly. If we make good time today and keep driving until dusk, we could be at Ode-mark tomorrow evening and Niejwein the next afternoon! All of two hundred miles in three days!” She glanced at Miriam slyly. “I hear over on the other side you have magical carriages that can travel such a distance much faster?”