The Emerald Storm by Michael J. Sullivan Page A

figure out—”
    “How is she?”
    Amilia hesitated. It was very inappropriate to interrupt, and terribly bold to inquire so bluntly of Her Eminence. Amilia was touched, however, by her concern for the welfare of Modina. Perhaps this girl was unaccustomed to interacting with the gentry. She was likely from some isolated village that never saw a visiting noble. The unnerving way she held Amilia’s stare revealed she had no experience with proper social etiquette. Edith Mon would waste no time beating those lessons into her.
    “She’s fine,” she replied. Then as a matter of habit added, “She was ill, and still is, but getting better every day.”
    “I never see her,” the maid went on. “I’ve seen you, and the chancellor, the regents, and the lord chamberlain, but I never see her in the halls or at the banquet table.”
    “She guards her privacy. You have to understand as empress everyone wants time with her.”
    “I understand. I guess she gets around using secret passages?”
    “Secret passages?” Amilia chuckled at the imagination of this girl. “No, she doesn’t use secret passages.”
    “But I heard this palace is very old and is filled with them; hidden stairs, and corridors that lead to all kinds of secret places.”
    “I don’t know anything about that,” Amilia replied. “What got this into your head?”
    The maid immediately put a hand over her mouth in embarrassment and her eyes dropped to the floor in submission. “Forgive me, milady. I didn’t mean to be so bold. I’ll get back to my work now.”
    “That’s all right,” Amilia replied as the maid dunked her brush again. “What’s your name, dear?”
    “Ella, milady,” the maid replied softly, without pausing or looking up.
    “Well, Ella, if you have problems or other questions, you have permission to speak to me.”
    “Thank you, milady. That is very kind of you.”
    Amilia returned to her own work and left the maid to hers. In a short time, the servant finished and gathered her things to leave.
    “Goodbye, Ella,” Amilia offered.
    The maid smiled at the sound of her name and nodded appreciatively. As she walked out Amilia glanced at her hands where they gripped the bucket and mop and was surprised to see long fingernails on each. Ella noticed her glance, shifted her grip covering her nails, and promptly left the chamber.
    Amilia stared after her awhile wondering how a working girl could manage to grow nails as nice as hers. She put it out of her mind and returned to her letters.

***

    “You realize they are going to get wise,” Amilia said, after the seamstress had finished taking Modina’s measurements and left the chamber.
    The Imperial Secretary moved around the empress’s bedroom straightening up. Modina sat beneath the narrow window, in the only patch of sunshine to enter the room. It was where Amilia found her most often. She would sit there for hours, just staring outside watching clouds and birds. It broke Amilia’s heart a little each time she saw her longing for a world barred to her.
    The empress showed no response to Amilia’s comment. Her lucidity from the day before had vanished. The empress heard her though. She was quite certain of that now.
    “They aren’t stupid,” she went on as she fluffed a pillow. “After your speech, and that incident with the clerk yesterday, I think it’s only a matter of time. You would have been wiser to stay in your room and let me handle it.”
    “He wasn’t going to listen to you,” the empress spoke.
    Amilia dropped the pillow.
    Turning as casually as she could, she stole a glance over her shoulder to see Modina still looking out the window with her traditional vague and distant expression. Slowly, Amilia picked up the pillow and resumed her straightening. Then she ventured, “It might have taken a little time, but I’m certain I could have persuaded him to provide us with the material.”
    Amilia waited, holding her breath, listening.
    Silence.
    Just when she