“Jules,” Bea says too loudly. “You’re staring.”

I start and tear my eyes away, face filling with red. Instead of Roan and Lady Gold, I watch as a stream of men and women emerge from the carriage that followed Lady Gold’s. The royal entourage, I realize, dressed in the Queen’s colors—the men in waistcoats and the women in long-sleeved dresses and caps, everything the dark red-purple of wine. There are far fewer than I’d expect—and something seems strange about them. Their expressions as they disembark range from wariness to relief. None is smiling. One woman clutches a mismatching linen shawl, flecked with red, around her; her dress beneath it hangs at an odd angle, as if torn. Behind her, a man is limping, his red doublet stained brown at the shoulder.

Then I snap to attention as Lady Verissa gestures with a casual flick of her hand—our cue to shuffle forward.

Ivan moves among us, positioning servants into a kind of phalanx. The royal servants in their burgundy go at the front, and take the most precious of the Queen’s things: vases of blown glass, huge leather books with pages edged in gold, bottles of liquor and perfume. Ivan takes Addie greedily by the wrist and brings her to the front. On top of her head, her hair is knotted in the shape of a rose about to bloom. A few other Everless servants step up too, filling the gaps in the royal procession. I exchange a glance with Ingrid; she looks just as confused at the strangely small group.

“Look,” she whispers. “They didn’t bring enough people to carry her things.”

Once the entourage is in place, Ivan barks at the rest of us, “Line up!” and we hurry to obey. I find myself shoved forward, ending up just behind the royal servants, a velvet hatbox pressed into my hands. Around me, other servants take up leather cases and dresses wrapped in tissue, oil paintings draped in cloth, even chairs and cushions, almost too big to carry. Is the Queen visiting or moving in? I think spitefully.

Eventually, we flow like ants toward the entrance, five abreast, a small army meant only to serve and serve and serve. What are these things worth, that we carry? How many years are in our arms right now?

Thinking of Papa, I have the sudden urge to dash this hatbox against the floor. But if I did, I’d be dead within the second, based on the look in Ivan’s hawkish eyes.

The Queen pauses just inside the door, the Gerlings by her side, to watch the procession of servants with narrowed eyes. “I assume I’ll have an escort to my rooms?” she asks, her voice carrying throughout the hall.

Immediately, Ivan calls us to a halt from the head of the column. I stop along with the rest, my skin prickling. We’re too disciplined to make a sound, but I can feel the simultaneous thrill and unease ripple through the group of servants. Though she’s a few heads away, I swear I catch the mint and lemon scent of Addie’s hair.

Lady Verissa looks discomfited, but after a moment she nods. “Of course, Your Majesty,” she says. She nods to Addie, who walks primly to her side, though I see how tightly she’s clutching the decorative jewelry box in her hands. “Addie will be serving you. She knows Everless, and the staff. She’ll see that you’re well cared for.”

The Queen gazes at Addie but says nothing. Addie smiles nervously and casts her eyes to the floor.

Lady Verissa then turns to her sons. “Roan, Liam, take Lady Gold to her suite.”

As she’s speaking, the Queen glides toward a place at the head of our column. A dark-haired handmaiden moves to whisper something in Ina Gold’s ear. I notice that the Queen’s attendants, the ones in the royal colors, are bowing and curtsying as she passes; a moment later, the Everless servants catch on and begin to do the same. Sweat pricks at my palms. As she passes a few feet from me, something seems to ripple around us, like even the air itself is turning toward her, attentive. I bend automatically into a curtsy, lowering my head. Again, Papa’s warning circles in my head. You can’t let the Queen near you, he said.

Despite his words, something in me longs for her to notice me.

As I lift myself, I flick my eyes upward—and the Queen’s eyes, which shine like glass, are staring back at me. A feeling sparks in my chest. Like recognition, though I can’t place it.

Then, something goes wrong. I can’t tell how it starts—maybe the Queen’s foot catches on something—but she’s falling, tipping forward, limbs stiff, her tall form unnaturally graceful. Addie lunges out to break her fall, and the Queen collapses against her until Addie is lost in a sea of red, swirling fabric. The box that was in Addie’s arms falls and bursts open on the hard floor, scattering jewels everywhere. A deep red stone rolls all the way to the toe of my boot.

It takes only a few seconds for Addie to right herself and the Queen. But instead of pulling away, Addie freezes, her hand still on the Queen’s wrist—on her bare, exposed skin. Then, she releases her grip, as suddenly as if she’s touched a hearthstone.

The procession goes dead silent. No one breathes as the Queen straightens, fury in her face. The girl’s eyes are wide and fearful, the look of someone who’s just been struck. She brings her hand—the hand that touched the Queen—to her chest. Her trembling fingers curl over her heart.

Don’t touch the Queen. I hadn’t paid any mind to Lora’s instructions, not thinking we would get close enough for it to matter. Addie must not have not gotten the same warning. No one—not even the royal servants—has moved.

Look away from her, I want to scream. But the girl just stares at the queen of Sempera, as if she’s turned to stone.

Anxious to do something, I fall to my knees and start gathering the jewels from the floor. Before long I have a handful of rubies and sapphires and emeralds set in gold, each of which, I think dizzily, must be worth a year or more. I pick up the box. The lid, carved with a design of angular leaves and berries, is hanging lopsidedly, one hinge broken. Then, a feminine pair of hands reaches toward me and plucks the box from my grip. She bends down, her hair falling like a curtain between me and the tableaux of the Queen and Addie. Looking up, I see that it’s the dark-haired handmaiden.

“I’ve got it,” she tells me softly, a sympathetic smile on her pretty, narrow face. I let go of the jewels without hesitation, and she places them into the box, which she closes and tucks under her arm. In one graceful movement, she urges me upright and back into the line of Everless girls.

Addie finally moves from her place, trying to fade into the line with me.

“Caro, bring her to me,” the Queen says.

The handmaiden—Caro—takes Addie by the arm.

“Your Majesty,” Lady Verissa begins, but the Queen silences her with a look. Ivan has moved up to be a few paces behind them. His sneer frightens me the most—like he smells blood. I suppress a shiver. The Queen’s gaze is full of fire, and it’s trained on Addie.

“What is your name?” the Queen asks.