“Well,” said Ferla, who was beginning to sound as happy as Lovisa felt. “Do you think Parliament will agree to let us host her?”

“They must,” said Benni. “You must use your influence on Sara Varana, for we simply must have her at home. It’s such an opportunity for diplomacy.”

“Yes,” said Ferla, her voice deepening. And then Lovisa heard muffled noises, a series of murmurs, then a gasp, and sprang away from the vent so fast that she cracked her head on the marble of the sink’s underside and had to suppress a cry of pain. Ugh. Her parents. It was disgusting how often their conversations randomly turned into things she did not want to hear.

She pushed herself up from the floor, pressing her fingers under the tight twists she wore in her hair, trying to rub the sore spot. In the mirror, she saw a young version of Ferla, which depressed her. She also saw a pattern of crisscrosses and circles embedded in her cheek from the grate, and sighed. She was stuck in here until that mark faded.

But the news was worth it. The Queen of Monsea was coming to Winterkeep, and might even stay in her house! Important delegates invariably ended up at the Cavenda house. That was because Lovisa’s parents represented opposing parties. Placing someone like the Queen of Monsea in the Cavenda home would leave neither the Scholars nor the Industrialists feeling at a disadvantage.

The Cavendas had also hosted Prince Skye for part of his visit, the one who was the Queen of Monsea’s cousin. Lovisa had found herself going home for dinner often, wanting to sit across from the man with the Lingian accent, the gold in his ears and on his fingers. He’d said that his father, a king, lived in a palace that sat atop a spire of rock. He’d said that he had a brother who was a Graceling, Graced with fighting. He’d had a Graced boyfriend too, a man named Saf, the first Graceling Lovisa had ever met. Saf had had blond hair like no one Lovisa had ever seen before, skin paler than his hair, eyes of two different purples, and the Grace of giving people dreams. He’d asked her once, over dinner, if she wanted a dream, and she hadn’t known what kind of dream to ask for. While she’d stalled, thinking, her little brothers had asked him for dreams of the Keeper, who was the undersea hero in the fairy tales the silbercows told. Then the conversation had turned to explaining the Keeper legends to the guests, and Lovisa had never gotten her dream. The boys had, though. They dreamed of the Keeper every night now, if they wanted.