"Where am I?" Marina hissed, clutching a polished bronze mirror and testing the lightness of silk sleeves.
"Miss? Miss Marina?" Half-Summer's voice squealed outside the curtain. "You're awake! You actually moved your hand. Do you know what that means? It means—"
"Less screaming, Half," Marina snapped, then caught herself and lowered her voice. "Or say it properly. Tell me what happened in one clean sentence."
Half's feet thundered on the floor. "You fell ill two nights ago. You were pale as frost. Doctor couldn't do much because the store has no willow bark left. Katelyn—" She stopped, glanced at the curtain, then leaned in. "Katelyn sent for the prince."
Marina kept her hand on the mirror and let her fragile fingers tremble for effect. The silk sleeve lay across her wrist like paper. She willed the body to feel weak, then pushed the arm down. Movement answered. It was slow, but it was hers.
"Prince?" Marina repeated. "Here? Now?"
"He's at the west gate," Half said. "They came with a carriage, and Katelyn walked beside him all proper. She had that saint smile. She brought green-glazed bowls for Father and a fine letter for the chancellor. She left a box for you. But—" Half bit her lip. "Some of the servants say the box was hardly sealed. Maybe empty?"
Marina laughed, a short sound. "Empty gifts are fine if they come with an audience."
Half's eyes widened. "You— you plan to see
