Free The Pyramid Waltz by Barbara Ann Wright

into one of the meringues and let the sugary confection dissolve on her tongue. “I’m in the mood for a bit of reading. After the bath, I think I’ll visit the library.”

Chapter Six: Starbride
     
    Starbride was well into her second stack of books; her mother would have been appalled. Dawnmother had heard of at least two picnics, three riding parties, countless tea room visits, and who knew how many card and lawn games going on that day, but Starbride hadn’t budged from the library. Three blue-robed knowledge monks were her only company, and they didn’t talk much. Throughout the day, Starbride had learned to ignore their quiet movements, the swish of their robes, the thump of a book being set on a table, or a quiet cough.
    She made note of a river trade law on her scroll, a law that could help keep the Farradain merchant families in Newhope from price-fixing. She had a contact she could send such things to, a friend of the family who tried to practice Farradain law but didn’t have all the tools. Well, she’d put a stop to that.
    She closed one book, shifted it to the side, and searched the pile of texts beside her. She pulled out another and scanned the first few pages. The smell of ink and paper was so familiar to her, but the language of the Farradains reminded her that she was far from home.
    Without thinking, she touched her necklace and ran her fingers over the seven starbursts in yellow enamel and the delicate golden wire that ran between them. Her father had shaped the wire to form the character “bride” if she wore it one way and “lucky” if she wore it the other way around, which she did constantly. It was her favorite, made in her childhood with links added as she grew. The pages in front of her grew hazy as she thought of it.
    “Why ‘lucky,’ Papa?” she’d asked.
    Seated at his worktable with her in his lap, he’d bent the sparkling gold wire with ease. “It’s my fondest hope for you, little Star, what I would have named you.” He’d chuckled. “But your mother’s will is as strong as an ox.”
    Starbride had frowned with childish stubbornness. “I hate my name. I’ll never get married!”
    His lips had smacked against her temple in a noisy kiss. “You’ll fall in love and change your mind one day.” He’d picked up one of the starburst links and held it beside the twisted wire. “This necklace will be there to remind you that you are both mine and your mother’s child. And that Papa loves you, my lucky Star.”
    In the library in Farraday, Starbride shook her head. The creation of her necklace had taken place several hundred miles away and over ten years in the past. There was no time to be homesick. She had a job to do.
    She barely noticed when someone took a seat beside her. It made sense. The huge library was nearly empty, but she’d chosen a spot near two wall sconces and a candelabrum, so the light was good. A blue sleeve entered her vision near her book, and five slender fingers drummed softly. Starbride glanced at the signet ring on the forefinger, a hawk clutching a rose. She didn’t look up, smiling to herself instead.
    “Trade law,” Katya said. “Riveting.” She plucked the sleeve of Starbride’s gown. “Hmm, would your mother be thinking mint or limes with this?”
    Starbride put down her pencil. “Mint. She’s not a big fan of fruit.” Katya wore the same loose bun that let her hair frame her face and the same dark blue coat she seemed to prefer, paired with dark trousers, except this coat had far less embroidery than her ball coat. When she glanced near Katya’s collar, though, Starbride couldn’t contain a laugh. Her butterfly hairclip perched on the fabric with the aid of a straight pin.
    “You like my new jewelry?” Katya asked.
    “It doesn’t seem your style.”
    “Being royalty carries the luxury of choice when it comes to style.”
    “Of course it does, Highness.” Starbride picked up her pencil again and twirled it in her