-DAY 2-

SCARLETT

The servants were the first to hear about the body found floating in the pool. I heard out about it during breakfast in the servant dining hall belowstairs.

"What's going on?" I asked as I took a seat in the long table.

"It was the gardener," the maid beside me said. "I mean he found her. Just this morning while he was out to clean the pool. I don't know how he could clean the pool so early in the morning, with barely any light. But anyway, he found her."

"Who?"

"Claire Braxton." She motioned her head toward a sobbing maid. "That's her maid, Lettie." She smiled at me. "I'm Piper. We share the same room."

I smiled. "You were asleep when I went in. I'm Scarlett." I looked around, utterly confused by the entire thing. Everyone were talking in whispers, as if they didn't want Lettie to hear. "Are you saying she's dead? Claire Braxton?"

"Sure is," Piper said, shaking her head.

"Oh God," I gasped, the information finally sinking in.

"I heard she's betrothed to Prince Francis. Poor girl. They say she has the best chance of becoming Swan this year. She was the smartest girl in her class at Queens, too."

Miss Avery was just talking about Claire Braxton yesterday and now she's dead?

"Scarlett, did you hear me?"

I blinked and looked at Piper. "I'm sorry?"

"Who's your mistress?"

I moistened my lips and cleared my throat. "Avery Gadford."

Piper's freckle-sprinkled face lit up with interest. "The missing girl."

"What?"

"She disappeared from Queens two years ago, did she not?"

"Where did you hear that? Your mistress?"

"Oh, no. I have no mistress. I work here in Ivory House. There's thirty of us, see? We clean the rooms and help with the ladies who didn't bring female servants. You know, those who brought in males like that one." She leaned closer and whispered, eyes on a handsome young man with black hair sitting with other male servants. "Logan Earle, I believe his name is. He works for Blythe Vandenberg's father. The others sitting with him are also here as servants for other ladies. But we all know they're mentors, trying to help these ladies get the better chances. Oh, darling, you have dirt on your sleeves! Where did you get that, clumsy girl?"

I looked and groaned in frustration. "I must have brushed the edge of the oven when I went to get my soup."

"You should finish eating and clean that. There are exciting things coming up. Do you think they'll postpone the game?" Piper asked as we stared at Lettie, who was now surrounded by servants trying to comfort her.

"How did she die?" I asked.

"Drowned, they say," Piper said. "But the question is—What was she doing in the pool so late at night? And why was there blood?"

"Blood?"

"Yes. I'm not sure, but I'll know for certain by afternoon once the gardener returns. They took the body straight to Sinclair." She shook her head. "Blood. Do you think she was murdered?"

Piper's question lingered in my head even as I entered Miss Avery's room an hour later.

"Oh, good, there you are," Miss Avery said, smiling from her dresser. "Help me with my hair. I want something simple today."

I picked up the brush, pausing at the brooch sitting beside it. I knew every ornament she owned, and this was not one of them.

"That's an ivy, Scarlett. Go on, look at it." I picked it up, wonder in my eyes. It was a swan, and I had seen nothing as beautiful. "The body is made of ivory from a dead elephant's tusk," Miss Avery said, smiling as she watched me. "It represents purity and elegance. The eye is made of sapphire stone, representing loyalty and wisdom. The beak is gold for triumph." I ran my thumb over the wing, which was encrusted with diamonds. "The diamonds symbolize commitment."

"It's beautiful."

"And very rare," Miss Avery said, taking the brooch from my hand. "Only Swans own a piece. It's handcrafted by the royal jeweler for the game. It could not be replicated."

I brushed her hair as she talked more about her plans—and how we had to keep the ivy safe. I was only half-listening at this point because I could not help but wonder where Miss Avery got the ivy.

I was certain she did not go into that lake.

MAEVE

That morning, I filled my pipe with my herbs and smoked. It had been a year since the pain in my leg woke me, but this time it did. I barely managed to climb out of bed. As the herbs worked, and as my body relaxed, I tested my leg and walked around the room. I stopped at the spot where we found Claire. Bless the heavens for ceramic tiles, the greatest innovation of mankind.

I went to the window and sighed when I saw the dried blood on the windowsill. Quickly, I dampened a cloth and wiped it off. Poking half of my body out, I stared down at the grass. As expected, the part where she landed was darker.

When Justine entered the room, I ordered for a bath. "And leave the bucket there," I said later when she was done filling the tub. "Thank you, Justine. You may leave. I'll bathe alone," I said.

She stared at me and the pipe in my hand before nodding. As she was leaving, she stopped, hesitated for a moment, and asked, "Miss, have you heard the news?"

"News of what?"

She blinked a few times and cleared her throat. "You said I should tell you everything I hear belowstairs."

"Yes, I did—among other things. What about this news?"

"They found a body in the pool this morning, Miss."

"Oh." I turned and looked down the window. "To be clear, you're talking about a human body?"

"Yes, Miss. One of the aspiring Swans, Miss."

I faced her again with a frown. My father had always said I was a good actor when the need arose. "Who?"

"Lady Claire Braxton, Miss."

But I was not that good of an actor, so I turned and faced the window again. "That's horrible."

"It is, Miss. Her poor maid went home alone looking like a mess."

"And what are they saying about it? How did she die?"

"We don't know yet, Miss. They say—"

"Did you hear?" Blythe's breathless question erupted into the room. She stood in the doorway, her face white, her eyes wide with shock. "About Claire?"

"Just now," I said. "We'll have to talk about this later. I need to take my bath."

"But—"

"My leg is killing me this morning, Blythe. Leave now, please."

She quickly nodded. "I'll come down for breakfast to find out more. Do you think they'll postpone the game? But I've been through so much and—"

"Blythe," I sternly said.

"Yes, of course. Your bath. I'll have to find Logan, anyway."

The moment she and Justine left the room, I locked the door and placed my pipe on the table. I filled the bucket with water, cursing at the pain. With my cane, I carried it over to the window and poured out the contents. I did it three more times. My efforts helped, but not completely.

I wet my hair and washed myself with a damp cloth, meanwhile doubting my actions last night. Maybe Francis was right and we should have just reported it. They might not think a prince could have done it. And maybe they would think that despite my history, I would not resort to murder?

Finishing my pipe, I prepared for breakfast, which was served in the east outside in the east garden. By this time, everyone had heard the news. Many were afraid and weary, but mostly curious. Would the game be postponed?

What really happened to Claire? They couldn't believe it was her, that she was not around anymore, especially her friends who were mourning, sitting around the same table, their tea and food untouched as they sobbed.

I found Blythe and dragged her away from the wall that had a view of the entrance to the pool. No one sat with us, even though we still had three empty seats around our table. Maybe because those who didn't want to talk about Claire were talking about me and Francis.

The deputies joined us when they arrived, roaming around to assure everyone that the game master would have news for us today. There was no cause for panic. And no, they could not say more about the fate of the game. Curiously, William was not around. So were the twins.

Blythe would not shut up about Claire's death. She told me things I already knew. "This is too taxing for me," I told her wryly. "I'm sorry Claire's dead, but we both know we don't care."

She blinked in surprise, then looked around, afraid someone heard me. "Maeve!" she hissed. "She may not have been our friend, but—"

"She ruined my leg, that's all I know." I stood and smiled at the ladies seated around the table behind me. With my tea, I crossed the lawn toward the southern wing.

"You can't go to the pool," one woman told me.

"I'm not," I grumbled under my breath.

I disappeared from view and continued the path toward the pool. Halfway there, I stopped at the spot right below my bedroom window and looked down at the discolored grass.

"What are you doing?" Francis asked behind me, his voice smooth yet scathing.

I poured the tea on the grass and faced him. "Good morning. Do you know what everyone's talking about this morning? Just two things: Claire's death and our sizzling tryst in the corridor." I limped past him toward the side entrance. "That's my way of saying stop following me, by the way," I said as he fell in stride beside me, hands in his pockets. "We are already in a very awkward scandal, Your Highness," I hissed with warning, stopping in front of a full marble statue. Its hand was held out, palm up, and I placed my teacup on top.

"That's my great-uncle."

"Then I'm sorry he had to wait all these years for his tea," I wryly said.

He followed as I walked on. "They're having a closed meeting about the game."

"Good. It's about time they end this thing," I said.

"I don't think they will. I know my sister-in-law. They'll try to cover this up to save the game's reputation. They're still recovering from last year's scandal."

Ah, the girl who nearly drowned in the lake during a game. It was a risk to do the First Trial there, too, but they must think it was worth it. After all, no one drowned. They proved their point. But murder? How could they cover this up?

"That's stupid, but I'm fine with it." I stopped to look around. "I'm sure they're taking her body to Sinclair. Find Leonard St. Vincent. He'll know what to do. But do it later at night. He's still in bed at this hour."

He looked completely lost. "What are you talking about?"

"My cousin's a doctor. He can confirm the cause of death."

"What?" I already knew what he was about to say next, but I was short of one word. "Of all the stupid, demented, imprudent ideas, yours are the worst. If I go there, I'll be found out."

"Get to the back entrance, knock and say I sent you." He shook his head in indignant objection. "We need to know how she died." I moved again.

He quickly followed. "We?"

"You and I are a pair now, whether we like it or not. Just find Leonard and see the body."

He pulled his hands out of his pockets as his mouth fell open, horror in his eyes. He blocked my path. "You want me to look into a bloody corpse?"

"Keep your voice down. Goodness. It's not a crime." I smiled at a pair of ladies who walked past us, repulsion painted on their faces. I wryly stared Francis in the eyes. "Find Leo in Sinclair. I'll ring at eight in the evening. And stop following me," I hissed.

"I'm not going!" he hissed back.

"Then don't!"

BLYTHE

They gathered us in the ballroom. When Maeve arrived looking unbothered in a dark blue dress, a few gazes followed her with disdain.

As much as I wanted to put some distance between us after her display in the garden, I was left with no choice because it was awkward to be standing alone amid women our age.

I groaned inwardly when Maeve stopped to get refreshments and stood beside me. But I had to remind myself that Maeve would always be Maeve, and I should be Blythe. And Blythe was good and perfect.

I smiled at a few ladies who stared in our direction and they smiled back, albeit halfheartedly, avoiding looking at Maeve altogether. Was I being judged by association here?

"I don't think everyone likes us at the moment. You should have not said what you said during breakfast," I whispered to her.

"You shouldn't care too much about what they think."

"And what about this rumor about you and the prince? Is it true?"

"Maybe."

I gasped, hand over my mouth. "Maeve!"

"I barely remember how his lips felt."

"What were you thinking? He is Claire's betrothed!" I hissed.

"My leg wasn't also hers when she broke it," she countered.

I could imagine Claire's fury if she found out about Maeve and Francis and I could not help but wish she weren't dead. It would have been fun to see her out of her usual grace. I had always wanted people to see how evil she was—what she was truly capable of. I wanted everyone to know what she had done to Maeve and the other girls before her.

But her dying stripped me of that satisfaction. It was too late now for everyone to see her for what she was, because she was no longer here to witness her own fall.

"They say they're not postponing the game, but some are already thinking of quitting. Less competition for us," I whispered, not really expecting an answer from Maeve as I looked around. I knew most of these from Queens. I had studied them thoroughly in the past two years, and I knew they were eager to get an ivy. But how many were willing to stay here after what happened?

A footman opened the double doors that led to a private wing of the manor and the room went completely still. "Her Royal Highness, Princess Violet!"

Violet Davercher, Crown Princess of Sutherland, forty years of age. She had two sons with Crown Prince Emmanuel, and she was about to give birth to the third. They said it was a dangerous pregnancy, but here she was, assuming the role of game master. She liked hot dark chocolates from the mountains of Hartcaster; wore no color other than green and white. She washed her perfect black hair with aloe every three days.

Since the queen's death four years ago, Princess Violet had taken over the task of game master for the Ivory Games. Although she may be older than my mother, she looked younger. Maybe because she did not have the same husband as mine had.

We all curtsied, save for Maeve, whom I knew could manage one, but chose not to because her condition excused her.

"I am sad to meet you all after the events this morning," the princess said in a mournful voice. "I'm sure you all have questions. Lady Claire Braxton was a promising young woman taken from us too soon, but let us not tarnish her death with nasty rumors. Lady Claire's death was nothing but a tragic accident. She is a known sleepwalker and must have ventured out to the pool where she fell and drowned."

There was a buzz of disbelief, and in one corner where Claire's friends stood, there was more sobbing.

"Lady Claire would have been an amazing Swan," the princess continued. "And she would not have wanted to steal from you the opportunity to become one. Thus, in honor of Lady Claire Braxton, we have decided to resume the game." Her smile turned brighter as she extended her arms in welcome, her very pregnant belly billowing even more. "So, ladies, I welcome you all to the 88th Ivory Game!"

Everyone softly clapped, me included, save for Maeve, of course, because she was holding her cane.

"Seventeen of you have ivies," the princess said, "but we all know you may not have it for long. The Silver Room is now open to accept those with ivies. The games, as usual, shall follow. I wish you all the best, ladies!"

I frowned as the princess turned around and exited the ballroom. "Seventeen? But Claire had an ivy, didn't she?" I said to Maeve.

She just shrugged. "Apparently, someone has her ivy."