"Now, sugar..." Citrine hums as she touches my hair, moving it into different positions—putting it up, letting it down, over my shoulder, tied back... "Not everything is in the face, you know? You're a bit chubby, that's good, dragons like softness. And your hair... well, it needs no praise, I'm sure you get a lot of it."
I smile a bit.
Citrine takes some fabrics and starts lifting them up to my face, her focus sharp as a needle. The tipsiness from before seems to have completely disappeared.
"Alright... beige, white, red, gold—those would look good on you. But there is something more important, and that's the style of your clothes, the shape, the patterns I'll use..." she says as she sinks deeper into her thoughts.
"Surely you can just make something that looks nice?"
"You see, our Radiant Seer, it's not that easy. Not with your position."
She taps my cheek with her slender fingers.
"You might be smart... but let me put it this way. A talented seamstress still can't make a dress without knowing what's a pattern, what's a dart, how to thread a needle... Clothes, my darling, don't serve only to cover the body. They're a... presentation. A message. And it'd be unfair of me to decide that for you."
She pulls out a yellow fabric embroidered with red and orange diamonds. Cotton.
"I wonder what kind of Queen you'd like to be. One that sticks to her own identity, or one that will, like tide, adapt?"
This time she pulls out golden fabric embroidered with diamonds... silk.
I study both fabrics carefully... and then touch the cotton one. It's soft under my fingers. Extraordinarily made.
"I won't bow to anyone." I tug the cotton fabric toward myself.
Citrine's eyes shine, reminding me of cat eyes for a second. "Are you sure?"
"I don't plan to deny my heritage or who I am."
"You need to understand why I'm asking you this. The reason is simple. When you walk out, hand in hand with Duarte, the courtiers will either see a stranger—someone who won't even try to adapt... or a friend, dressed in traditional silks, who will grace them with familiar presence."
She takes her glass of wine and sips, intently staring at me.
"They will either see a Queen they need to tame, subdue, harness, and saddle... or a pliable one they can control. It just depends who you want to be, dear girl."
I snort a bit.
"I don't plan to let anyone control me," I say. I raise my chin as I look at the dragoness. However, I'm proud—not stupid. She knows way more about this court than I do. I barely know where it's located. So I ask for advice. "However... I want to hear your opinion. What should I wear?"
"I advise the traditional outfit," Citrine coyly smiles. "You will have a much easier time at the court if you don't cause a scandal with your first appearance..." She looks right into my eyes. "But I have a feeling you won't listen to me."
"No. I won't. I'll choose the Niemi attire and I'll wear it with pride."
"Alright. As long as you know the risks, sugar. Not everyone will be on your side."
"They don't have to be."
She laughs—deep, from the throat. Her laughter is hoarse as she giggles.
"I like you. You are foolish, yes, but I like you." She winks and starts measuring me. "But heed my advice... choose your allies wise, and enemies wiser."
I look at her as I hold my chin up, proud, much like a Queen... even if I'd just crawled out of the gutter a few hours ago. She smiles, cat-like, as she nods in approval. I wonder if she's a friend or a foe... an ally or a traitor? But from one look at her I can see—the person she is allied with the most is herself.
"And do you plan to tell me who the enemies might be?"
"There are many to name," she says as she starts draping fabric over me, pins in her mouth. "But you should watch out for... well, currently for everyone. After you appear in the court it will be for everyone and extra."
"The vague riddles are not of much help."
"Well, since Lord Itzamatul trusts me so much, it would be unfair of me to just leave you at the mercy of the court vultures. Watch out for the Old Blood and Celestia's Loyalists. Both factions will be displeased with your nomination as Queen." She starts pinning the fabric down—her fingers are thin and fast, well-used to this... they've done it thousands of times before.
She doesn't even prick me.
"Old Blood?"
"The traditionalists. They still haven't gotten over the murder of their beloved dragon, Aur-Azmate. The old dragon of gold, before Itzamatul took his place." She snorts a bit. "Funny, isn't it, how they live in the past? It's been millennia since then and yet hate runs as strong as it did on day one... stupid and foolish way to live. The dead can't be brought back; only new can rise, and Aur-Azmate left no children. So I fail to see how the re-establishing of the Old Bloodline should even work, if there is no Bloodline to speak of."
I shrug.
"People are usually foolish and selfish."
"Yes, but don't be careless and don't write off malice as stupidity," she warns me. "You are not dealing with mortals, our dear Radiant Seer, anymore... you are dealing with dragons and spirits."
---
Dioptase looks through her files. She keeps scrolls on all servants in the quarters, on every single person who passes through Aurea Spira, yet she can't figure out what's happening. She'd never even heard of this Enya, whoever she was...
What did Lord Itzamatul mean with his words? What was he putting in motion? Dioptase's stern expression cracks for a second as she frowns, full of worry.
She'd been his closest confidante for centuries... yes, she knew she was nothing but a servant, but still—she'd hoped he'd at least ask her advice before acting on... something as foolish as this...
But Lord Itzamatul never shared his secrets.
Was he going to wage a war on Celestia again? On Lady Fate herself? What was his angle?
"Ah, Larimar." Dioptase jolts as she notices the maid standing next to the door. "Come here."
Larimar obeys and walks over, hands piously crossed over her stomach. Dioptase always appreciated the girl's tendency to be quiet and obedient.
"These are all the maids and servants we have available." Dioptase motions at the scrolls. "Well, at least the ones who haven't given me any reason to suspect them of being involved with the Old Blood or Celestia's Loyalists yet. But there's never such a thing as being too careful..."
Larimar dutifully nods.
"I want you to go through these names. See if you can remember anything suspicious they could've done. And I want you to follow them for these couple days, until Duarte presents the new to-be Queen to the court..."
"Of course, Mistress Dioptase."
Dioptase gives her a stern look. "You've met the new Queen. What do you make of her?"
Larimar doesn't even think before she replies.
"She seems very kind. Kind and... soulful."
Dioptase clicks her tongue.
"Well, the new Queen won't survive long if those are her only qualities..." she notes, sarcastically.
"Not in the slightest, Lady of the House. She seems smart as well... but... I am worried that..." Larimar nervously says... "That her blood will be smelt by the sharks of this palace."
Dioptase looks at her intently.
"Those are my worries too, child... no matter who she is, we must protect our Lord. She will become a liability now." Yes, those were Dioptase's thoughts... she hadn't met the Queen yet, but really, she didn't care. Her loyalties lay with Itzamatul, the great Dragon of Gold, not some mortal wench he'd brought in.
When he spoke of her, she could see the girl was just the newest chess piece on his board... albeit, perhaps the most important one. The Queen. Preceded only by the King.
"I will speak with her," Dioptase says at last. "To see with my own eyes who we are dealing with. You stay here."
"Shouldn't we let the Queen rest?"
Dioptase's expression darkens as she walks forth, not even looking back at Larimar.
"She will have plenty of time to rest. But I need to know if we've let a mouse or a snake into the palace."