There is a particular kind of silence that falls after news of revolution and impending disaster a silence thick as cold porridge, heavy enough to drown a conversation before it begins. Such silences, I've found, rarely last long in this particular palace.
This time, Mara was the first to break it. "If we're officially on the brink of chaos, does that mean we can skip etiquette lessons today?"
My mother fixed Mara with a look sharp enough to slice bread. "If chaos canceled etiquette, we'd never have learned table manners at all."
Mara considered this, nodding thoughtfully. "Fair enough. But consider the revolutionaries—will they appreciate my perfect curtsy when storming the gates?"
Elira sighed theatrically. "If nothing else, it might confuse them long enough for us to escape."
