Ten days.
The timeline was shrinking so rapidly Kaia felt like she was trapped in a room with closing walls. Every hour was accounted for. Every meal was a performance.
"Posture, Kaia," Victoria barked, pacing the length of the Sun Parlor. "The Imperial Jeweler is a man who deals exclusively with flawless gems. Do not let him see you slouching like a tarnished piece of brass."
Kaia sat rigidly on the edge of a velvet settee, her hands folded in her lap. Prince Beckett sat next to her, looking exceptionally nervous, as though the jeweler might decide to appraise his internal organs.
"I am perfectly straight, Victoria," Kaia said tightly. "If I sit up any straighter, my spine will snap."
"A snapped spine is preferable to bad carriage," Victoria retorted.
The heavy double doors swung open, and the Royal Herald announced the arrival of Monsieur Vangold, the Imperial Jeweler.
