Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
As I climb the steps to the High Chamber later that afternoon, sun gushes down from the sky like a river of gold. The alabaster building almost glows and the grand domed ceiling ripples with a majesty of colour. The large doors are set wide apart as I climb the final painted step.
The so-called diplomat will be here in about thirty minutes.
Idris insisted on lining the streets with soldiers, so the very minute this diplomat walks through the gate they’ll be met with the might of our armies and watched by more than a thousand hostile eyes that will know his face.
Idris will make this man walk the path to our door, not letting him rush past a single person.
Michelle leapt on the idea, suggesting that the diplomat walk while Idris rides a white stallion to lead the way.
I didn’t argue, deciding to save my energy for my speech.
While I was at first doubtful of the plan, I can’t doubt the intimidating results.
The square around the High Chamber glints and gleams with an orderly maze of polished steel.
Behind them stand the civilians of Halice, talking amongst themselves.
This wasn’t part of the plan, but clearly, they want to see what this commotion is about for themselves.
Soldiers line the path to our door several stacks deep, weapons by their sides.
The absence of Idris’s aggravation leaves me restless and misplaced.
I flex my hands, the paper of my prepared words crinkling under my grip.
I have been working on things to say most of the morning.
This is a public speech, the kind Michelle swears will go down in history.
Making sure the words are right will be so important for the transcripts that will be sent out across the continent.
I press my lips together and turn back to the High Chamber.
I step through the front door and my jaw almost drops.
The tables and marks of our emergency war council have vanished.
The floor is filled with people. Lining the wide aisle towards the main stage are soldiers.
Behind them is a cacophony of civilians, many of them artists in the midst of their work already.
Sketching out the building, prepping their canvas.
Today will go down in history, Michelle has made sure of it.
Behind them are the scribes preparing to take down my words, to send them to the farthest reaches of the continent.
I swallow and walk down the aisle towards the gate that separates the viewing area from the spectators.
The chairs that have sat empty for weeks, that are normally arranged in a circular position around the central white stage have been moved.
Now the seven chairs are placed on that central white stage, with all the might of the rainbow streaming down from the heavens in a bold and brilliant light.
My chair is in the centre; I’d recognise the seat of my power anywhere.
Three sit to the right, three to the left, slightly curved to meet our diplomat.
Michelle is walking around and barking orders at people, organising things.
Maggia is there already, dressed in a beautiful white tunic in the Halician style, trimmed with gold.
Then I spy Leone, dressed similarly. It’s not identical by any means, but the colour scheme is.
Brilliant white with gold trim. Savino too.
How has Michelle managed all this so quickly?
Michelle sees me and gives a relieved smile.
“There you are! This way,” Michelle says excitedly, grabbing my hand and whisking me towards the back.
“Michelle, this all looks incredible. How did you do all of this?” I ask as she walks me towards a back room.
“I’m using my talents to defend my city,” Michelle answers. “I protect my home and my family.”
“I could not have asked for a better sister-in-law, you know that?” I say as she reaches for the door handle to the back room.
“Oh, you’ve seen nothing yet!” she cackles, eyes lighting up with pure delight. Now that worries me a little… All thoughts die on my tongue as she pushes open the door. My mouth goes dry and my eyes become round. A quiet breath leaves my lips, which part as my gaze falls on the dress.
That dress. That masterpiece. A work of art fit only for the gods themselves.
The dress is made of the most gorgeous stained glass.
Vivid colours of every shade and hue swirl in each decadent depiction.
The bodice is a detailed, fitted structure, the different panels held together with barely perceptible silver thread.
The sweetheart neckline is adorned with gleaming beads shaped like butterflies and flowers, which follow into the long, looping beads that will dangle down my upper arms on trails of gleaming gold and silver.
The full A-line skirt is made of many panels held together by barely perceptible silver thread, with breaks to allow for movement.
“Isn’t it perfect?” says Giulia, snapping me out of my stupor. I blink as Michelle waves towards the piece.
“Michelle, this is the most beautiful thing in the world!” I gape as Michelle grins, adjusting one of the beads on the arms.
“Thank you. I am so proud of the result!” Michelle grins.
“I got the idea when we first got that letter saying this diplomat was coming. I knew you’d have to put on a show – a powerful Halician Maestrus, the embodiment of this city.
A leader that truly is her people, not merely leading them.
So I went to Ruggie for help, and others in the Garden wanted to pitch in.
Emilia helped with some of the structural calculations and used her glass contacts, and it was Serra’s idea to use this silver thread.
Everyone in the Garden has contributed in some way to make this for you – this dress is inspired by you. Made for you.”
Tears well in my eyes as I struggle to find the words.
“Renza!” Giulia laughs gently as I press a hand to my face.
“Sorry, I just… Wow. It’s beautiful!” I babble. Giulia wraps me in a hug.
“You were in on this?” I hope my words don’t come across as accusing.
“Obviously. Who do you think paid and handed over your measurements?” Giulia grins. “Besides, we both know I’m the only person that can wrangle your hair.”
I let out a bubbly laugh as I dab my eyes.
“Right, let’s transform you into a Halician Maestrus,” Michelle says, gesturing to a make-up artist I recognise.
His name is Dante, one of the best stage make-up artists in Halice.
Giulia sits me in a chair and instantly people get to work.
I have to close my eyes for the make-up.
My cheeks are dabbed, lashes clamped, and my hair is tugged in every direction as Giulia sets about my head.
Michelle is giving instructions to both of them, and I barely have time to look at myself when they’re done.
Michelle and Giulia help me slip into a light underdress, made of white gossamer with a loose skirt.
The white fabric is softer than silk and almost translucent as it shimmers softly with each turn.
Then four people spring into action and the dress is sewn onto my body section by section.
I stay perfectly still and barely dare to breathe.
I refuse to be the reason all this hard work falls apart.
Then Giulia walks towards me with a new piece of the dress I’d missed.
Spraying out like the golden rays of the sun, the fan structure slides into place between my shoulder blades.
Long thin spindles stretch out into fine tips, wrapped and dripping with glass cut like diamonds.
They shimmer and shine like light itself stands behind me.
When Michelle is finally satisfied, they let me see myself in the mirror. I gape at the reflection. That woman in front of me is Halice incarnate. A Maestrus worthy of the name. A beautiful, fierce goddess walking amongst them.
I feel strong. Proud. Blessed. This is Halician, this ingenuity, this beauty, this brilliance. I feel the spirit of my people coursing through my veins. The pounding of my heart says one word.
Halice.
Halice.
Halice.
I turn to Giulia in amazement, then to Michelle who raises her eyebrow, waiting for my response.
“This is beyond perfect,” I tell her. “Thank you.”
“Yes!” Michelle celebrates in delight. “Well it won’t be long till they get here so let’s get you out there and in position.”
“Remember, we’re all right behind you,” Giulia says gently, taking my hands. “We love you. Do you want this?”
She shows me the paper with my short speech notes on it. I shake my head. The power of this dress has begun a new lease of strength thrumming through me.
“No need,” I answer, squeezing her hands. “But you’ll stay?”
“Of course,” Giulia says. “As always, I’ll be right there to support you.”
“Obviously!” Michelle laughs as she slips her arm around her fiancée’s waist. “After all this work? We’re not missing this for the world!”
“Fate’s Fury, I love you both,” I say. “Right, let’s go.”
Michelle opens the door for me and I walk through.
The dress clinks softly, the glass shimmering and spraying colour in all directions as I step into the hall.
The quiet din of conversation drops off as I make my entrance.
People look at me with amazement before erupting with activity and conversation.
The artists immediately get sketching and painting, the scribes scribbling furiously.
Maggia, Leone and Savino walk to my side, their expressions an absolute picture.
“You look stunning,” Maggia declares.
“Couldn’t have said it better myself. This dress is a statement alone. We might not need the speech,” Leone answers with a chuckle. “Michelle is very talented.”