Chapter 73
One week later, breakfast was going wonderfully.
This was immediately suspicious, because Dara had learned that pleasant mornings in this world often existed solely to create contrast before something irritating happened.
Still, she intended to enjoy it while it lasted.
The morning room stood open to the garden breeze, pale curtains stirring at the tall windows as sunlight spilled across the breakfast table in soft gold.
The spread was excellent: warm bread, soft eggs, fruit preserves, honey cakes, sliced pears, tea, and a small dish of spiced potatoes Dara had recently decided deserved permanent residency in her life.
Her father sat across from her with a cup of tea in hand, looking more relaxed than he had in weeks.
That alone improved the food.
“So,” her father said, examining the latest menagerie proposal with the serious expression of a man reviewing a military treaty, “you are certain about refusing the mountain cats?”
Dara did not even look up from buttering her bread. “Yes.”
“They are magnificent animals.”
“They are enormous clawed disasters with fur.”
“Majestic fur.”
“Predatory fur.”
Her father sighed. “You are very firm on this.”
“I am very alive,” Dara said. “I intend to continue.”
Cai, curled around the handle of the jam spoon, flicked his tail. Coward.
Dara ignored him.
Her father looked down at the proposal again. “The consultant did say proper barriers could be built.”
“The consultant is not the one who will be blamed if a noble child loses a decorative sleeve and possibly an arm.”
“That is specific.”
“I am a visionary.”
Her father huffed a laugh into his tea.
The sound was small, but genuine.
Dara paused for half a heartbeat, then returned to her bread with great dignity.
She liked that laugh. She was not going to make a whole emotional matter of it, but she liked it.
“The smaller native creatures first,” she said. “Foxdeer, moonhares, bright-winged pheasants, and maybe the little moss-backed tortoises if the handlers confirm they tolerate visitors.”
His eyes brightened. “Your mother liked moonhares.”
Dara’s hand stilled by the smallest degree.
He seemed to realize what he had said a moment after saying it, and his expression softened into something careful. “She said they looked as though someone had made rabbits out of candlelight.”
Dara looked down at her plate.
The memory did not belong to her.
Not truly.
But the ache it left in the room did.
“Then moonhares should definitely be included,” she said.
Her father’s face softened. “Yes,” he said quietly. “I think she would have liked that.”
For a moment, breakfast became very still.
Not uncomfortable.
Just full.
Dara reached for her tea. “And absolutely no mountain cats.”
Her father laughed again. “There she is.”
Dara lifted her cup. “Alive and sensible.”
Debatable, Cai said.
I will spread jam on your whiskers.
He recoiled in offense.
Her father turned to the aquarium notes next, clearly pleased to remain in safer territory. “The glowing river fish seem popular in the sketches.”
“They’re beautiful.”
“And safe?”
“They had better be.”
“That does not sound like certainty.”
“That is why the word safe is underlined three times in the proposal.”
Regulus looked, then laughed softly. “So it is.”
Dara leaned forward, unable to stop herself now that the topic had become interesting.
“The aquarium needs to feel cool inside. Not damp. Cool. Like stepping away from the sun. Water channels along the sides. Glass tanks properly reinforced. Viewing corridors wide enough that people do not crowd each other like trapped goats.”
Her father nodded with growing amusement. “No trapped goats.”
“And no smell.”
“An ambitious demand for a building full of water creatures.”
“A necessary demand. If I walk into an attraction and it smells like old fish and regret, I am leaving.”
Cai licked jam from one claw. You are obviously building this for yourself.
“I am ensuring quality,” Dara said aloud.
Her father blinked.
Dara froze, then calmly took a bite of bread.
He looked at her for a moment, then smiled like he had decided not to ask.
Bless him.
“The themed sweets,” he said instead, picking up the next note. “Fish-shaped pastries?”
Dara brightened. “Yes.”
His eyes warmed. “Of course.”
“Do not say it like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like I am predictable.”
“My dear,” her father said with great affection, “you requested separate snack stalls for each attraction before approving the second foundation draft.”
“That is infrastructure.”
“That is pastry planning.”
“Food distribution,” Dara corrected.
He laughed again, and this time Dara smiled openly.
Not much, but enough.
Breakfast truly was going well.
The interruption therefore felt especially rude.
Grace entered first, expression composed but too careful.
Behind her stood a footman holding a sealed message tray.
Her father noticed before Dara did. His posture changed—not dramatically, and not enough for most people to see, but Dara saw it. The easy warmth left his shoulders.
Grace curtsied. “My lady. Forgive the interruption.”
There it was.
Dara set down her teacup. “What happened?”
The footman stepped forward and bowed, presenting the tray. “A summons, my lady. From the council.”
Her father’s eyes sharpened.
Dara looked at the seal.
Not the Crown seal.
Council.
Interesting.
“For me?”
“Yes, my lady. Immediate attendance is requested.”
Cai lifted his head from the jam spoon. Oh?
Dara did not reach for the message immediately. She studied the seal for one breath, then another.
A council summons demanding immediate attendance, not a scheduled meeting or a request for review. Not Bernard arranging documents or Elowra labeling something with ominous precision.
This was new.
A slow smile touched her mouth. “Oh?”
Her father did not look nearly as entertained. “Lynara.”
Dara picked up the sealed note and turned it over. “How interesting.”
Cai rose into the air, eyes bright. That smile concerns me.
Dara broke the seal and scanned the contents, which were very brief, very formal, and very annoying in their lack of detail.
The council requested her presence for an urgent review regarding recent administrative actions and matters of public concern.
No specifics.
Cowards.
She lowered the note.
Her father set down his cup. “What does it say?”
“Urgent review,” Dara said. “Recent administrative actions. Public concern.”
His face darkened. “That is deliberately vague.”
“Yes.”
“Which means it is deliberate.”
“Also yes.”
He pushed his chair back slightly. “I’ll come with you.”
Dara looked at him.
He looked back, already bracing for an argument.
There was a time she might have snapped not simply because the idea of being protected by her father felt inconvenient. There was a time he might not have offered quickly enough. There was a time both of them would have stood on opposite sides of old habits and pretended not to care.
That time, apparently, had become less useful.
Dara’s expression softened. “Father, please finish your breakfast.”
Her father frowned. “Lynara.”
“I am not refusing,” she said. “I am saying breakfast first.”
He stared.
Cai’s whiskers twitched. Priorities.
Dara lifted her chin. “No respectable political disaster should begin on an empty stomach.”
Her father closed his mouth, opened it again, then, to her satisfaction, laughed once under his breath. “You sound far too much like yourself.”
“Good.”
“That was not necessarily praise.”
“It should have been.”
He shook his head, but some of the tension left his face.
Dara handed the summons to Bernard, who had appeared at the doorway with the silent speed of a man who could smell paperwork from three rooms away.
Bernard read it once. His expression did not change, which meant it was bad or interesting. Usually both.
“Elowra?” Dara asked.
“Already being informed, my lady,” Grace said.
Excellent.
Dara reached for her tea again.
The room waited.
She took one slow sip and then another.
Her father watched her with a mix of concern and disbelief. “Are you truly finishing breakfast?”
“Yes.”
“The council requested immediate attendance.”
“And they will receive attendance.” Dara selected another honey cake. “After breakfast.”
The footman looked like he was reevaluating his entire understanding of urgency.
Dara took pity on him. “Send word that I have received the summons and will attend shortly.”
“Yes, my lady.” He bowed and hurried out.
Her father leaned back slowly. “You are either very calm or very pleased.”
Dara smiled. “I wonder what big plans the council has for me.”
“That is not a reassuring sentence.”
“It was not meant to reassure.”
Cai floated beside the message tray, grinning. This could be fun.
Most things are, if handled properly.
And if handled improperly?
Dara took another bite of her honey cake. Then they become expensive.
Her father sighed, but not with true frustration. More with the weary fondness of a father who had accepted that his daughter was a storm in a lovely gown. “At least let me send ahead for the carriage.”
“Of course.”
“And additional guards.”
Dara paused. “Father.”
“This is not negotiable.”
She looked at him.
He looked back.
For once, there was no indulgent laziness in him. No vague avoidance. No soft, careless drift. Just a father who had nearly lost his daughter once and had no intention of allowing politics to take even one careless step near her without steel nearby.
Dara swallowed. “Fine.”
Regulus nodded. “Good.”
“But not an army.”
“Then we will have to disagree on what counts as an army.”
“Father.”
He took a calm sip of tea. “You inherited your stubbornness honestly.”
Cai made a delighted sound. Oh, he got you.
Dara picked up her napkin and dabbed at her mouth with dignity. I am choosing to respect his growth.
You are losing.
Strategically.
Breakfast resumed.
Not normally, exactly.
The summons sat on the table now, a small sealed disruption among the plates and cups and aquarium sketches.
But Dara finished her tea. Her father finished his eggs despite glancing at the note every few moments.
Bernard quietly re-entered, collected the relevant folders without being asked, and sent Grace to prepare Dara’s outerwear.
By the time Dara rose, the pleasant warmth of the morning had sharpened into something else.
Anticipation.
Her father stood as well. “You do not have to face them alone.”
“I know.”
The answer came easily.
It surprised them both.
His expression softened again.
Dara adjusted one sleeve. “And I won’t.”
Because she would have her father.
Bernard.
Elowra.
Marek.
Probably far too many guards.
Possibly Valerius, if word reached him before the council finished making whatever poor decision it had chosen for the day.
The thought should have felt inconvenient.
Instead, it felt satisfying.
How irritatingly pleasant.
Grace returned with Dara’s gloves and a light cloak. “My lady.”
“Thank you.”
Dara took them, then glanced once more at the aquarium sketch still lying beside her plate.
Fish-shaped pastries.
Moonhares.
No mountain cats.
The city was improving.
Her projects were moving.
Her personal funds were falling.
And now the council had summoned her urgently for “public concern.”
A smile returned to her face.
Small.
Bright.
Not soft.
Her father saw it and sighed. “You are enjoying this.”
“I am curious.”
“That is worse.”
“Usually.”
Cai looped through the air beside her shoulder, invisible and practically vibrating. Shall we go see what they want?
Dara put on her gloves. “Yes,” she said aloud.
Her father blinked.
Dara ignored that and turned toward the door with the calm satisfaction of a woman whose breakfast had been excellent and whose day had just become interesting.
“Let us not keep the council waiting too long.”
A pause, then she smiled.
“Only enough.”