Chapter 17: LEARNING THE CITADEL

DIANA’S POV

Diana had until tomorrow’s reception to learn enough of Blackharrow not to look like a stranger inside her own household.

By early afternoon, Diana had learned that Blackharrow Citadel contained enough stairs to qualify as a military threat.

The senior housekeeper disagreed.

"These are the easier household levels."

Another flight waited above them.

"Comforting," Alma said.

Mistress Hale continued climbing.

Diana followed her through the working household levels of the Citadel, with Alma beside her and two guards behind.

The main kitchens occupied an entire lower household wing.

Diana heard them before she entered.

Metal struck wood. Knives moved across chopping blocks. Water boiled in enormous pots. Servants carried trays between worktables while a kitchen clerk called quantities from a ledger near the wall.

No one stopped working because the Grand Duchess appeared.

Several bowed while continuing to hold whatever they were carrying.

Diana approved.

The kitchen master met them beside three ovens.

"Your Grace. Tomorrow’s formal meal is on schedule."

A young kitchen worker approached from behind him carrying a basket of onions.

"Master Harel, where does the northern venison go?"

"Cold room two."

The girl hurried away, only for another servant to appear.

"The western delegation added two children."

"Tell the bread table."

A third came from the opposite doorway.

"The southern guest room wants hot water."

"Tell household service."

The kitchen master turned back to Diana.

"Apologies."

He managed two more sentences before someone called his name again.

Questions found the kitchen master from every direction while his deputy managed three worktables without calling for him once. Diana filed that away and continued before curiosity became interference.

The colder storage level beyond the kitchens held enough winter provisions to make Alma stare at the flour alone.

Nearby, servants and guards ate at the same long tables. People made room when Diana passed, but nobody vanished because royalty had entered.

Valence servants had learned to disappear.

Blackharrow’s merely shifted their elbows.

The infirmary occupied a warmer wing near the eastern court.

Eren was asleep when they entered.

His leg had been elevated and freshly bandaged. The same healer who had managed him on the road sat nearby writing notes.

"Your Grace."

Diana approached the bed.

"How is he?" Alma asked.

"Better. He is becoming unbearable, which is usually encouraging."

The healer lowered her voice.

"He asked whether he could attend tomorrow’s reception."

Diana took her slate.

NO.

The healer smiled.

"I told him the same."

Eren opened one eye.

"Traitors."

Diana wrote:

SLEEP.

He closed his eyes again.

Blackharrow’s infirmary had more beds than the border station, but what caught Diana’s attention was the adjoining waiting area.

Two ward-fed heating stones had been set into the treatment-wing walls, keeping the infirmary warmer than the adjoining passage, though the benches nearest the outer corridor still caught the draft.

Several people sat there.

An older man rested with a cane between his knees. A woman held a sleeping child. Another family shared bread from a cloth bundle while waiting for news from behind the treatment doors.

The waiting area was plain: benches and stone walls. Two benches stood too close to the draft from the outer corridor. An elderly woman rubbed her hands together and shifted farther inside.

Diana added the benches to the growing list of things she wanted to ask about later and continued with the tour.

From the infirmary, Mistress Hale led them upward again toward Government Terrace.

The guest facilities occupied one of its larger wings.

The guest wing was louder.

Children had taken possession of one corridor despite every adult attempt to prevent it. A small wooden horse flew through an open doorway and stopped against Diana’s boot.

A boy appeared after it and stopped when he saw her. Then he noticed the guards behind her and the formality of her clothing.

His mother reached him moments later.

"Your Grace."

She bowed quickly and pulled the child with her.

The boy looked back at Diana as they disappeared into their room.

No greeting.

No insult.

Diana picked up the wooden horse and placed it on the nearest table.

The Citadel’s hostility remained remarkably well mannered.

Near the end of the guest wing, the housekeeper turned toward a narrow passage lined with black stone. Diana followed until a guard stepped into the entrance.

"Not this corridor today, Your Grace."

Being stopped in a Citadel that now called her Grand Duchess was embarrassing in a way Diana had not expected. For an instant she wondered whether everyone behind the guard was watching to see what Selena Valence would do.

Diana raised her slate.

WHY?

The guard answered her rather than the housekeeper.

"The memorial families are preparing tomorrow’s standards inside. The passage is reserved until they finish."

Beyond him, folded black cloth rested on a bench farther inside. Beside it stood two people she recognized from the Third Watch guest list.

Their conversation had stopped when they saw her.

One older man’s attention remained on Diana as she turned away.

The restriction had a reason.

Diana lowered the slate, nodded to the guard, and turned away.

Daric stood at the next crossing speaking with one of the household security officers. He had seen the entire exchange.

Diana continued walking.

If Daric wanted to record that she had obeyed a guard, he could make the discovery without her assistance.

Farther along the guest wing, Diana passed a servant carrying folded sheets.

The woman favored her left leg slightly and tried to hide it whenever a household officer passed.

Diana might not have noticed if she had spent fewer years watching servants move around court while nobles ignored them.

She wrote a question and showed it to the housekeeper.

WHO IS SHE?

"Nella. Guest linen."

IS SHE INJURED?

"She broke her ankle last winter."

WHY IS SHE CARRYING THAT?

Mistress Hale frowned at the servant carrying the sheets.

"Nella."

The servant stopped.

"Yes, Mistress?"

"Change with Lysa at the reception desk."

"But I was assigned linen."

"You were. Now you are not."

Nella looked confused.

The housekeeper gestured toward the stairs.

"Go."

The servant went.

Diana looked at the housekeeper.

"I did not see her limping."

Diana wrote:

SHE TRIES NOT TO.

Mistress Hale read it and continued walking without comment.

Diana preferred that.

Near the upper end of Government Terrace, a guarded stair rose toward Command Terrace.

Two armed guards stood before an iron door marked with a black metal seal.

One bowed.

"Command communications, Your Grace."

Diana pointed toward the secured passage beyond it.

"Restricted as well."

Reason enough.

Diana turned left with the housekeeper.

Behind her, Alma whispered, "He expected you to argue."

Diana wrote while walking:

I SAVE ARGUMENTS FOR DOORS WORTH OPENING.

Alma nearly walked into the housekeeper.

They descended again toward the Healing and Household Terrace and crossed the east court toward household administration.

Daric waited at the entrance to the household office, speaking with one of Diana’s guards. The guard handed him a short written report as they approached.

"Your Grace."

Diana pointed toward the paper.

"Your route."

Alma immediately became interested.

"You visited the kitchens, infirmary, guest wing, storage level, east court, and household offices."

Alma said, "You missed the school corridor."

"There is no school corridor."

"Good. I wanted to know how complete the report was."

Daric looked at her.

Then his attention moved to Diana.

"Was she always this quick to learn rooms?"

Alma’s expression changed.

"Always?"

"As a child."

Diana stopped.

Daric had asked questions about the marriage before.

He had asked about Valence.

He had not asked about childhood.

Alma said, "She remembers what matters."

Daric let the answer stand.

"Understood."

Diana continued toward the household office. Until now, most of his questions had concerned Valence and the wedding. Childhood was new.

Inside, the housekeeper had laid out fabric samples, lists of musicians, menus, and several merchant letters.

Diana sat.

"What is all this?"

The housekeeper looked at her.

"Your preferences for the reception."

The first merchant letter offered imported Southern flowers. The second offered Valence wine. A third promised musicians trained in court dances from the Southern Crown.

Someone had also produced gold cloth embroidered with the Valence crest.

Diana stared at it.

The housekeeper mistook the reason.

"We can order more if the color is not exact."

Blackharrow had asked what Selena Valence wanted.

For once, Diana was going to answer with something she actually chose.