“And Snow will protect Winter. May it never thaw.”

Lexia’s students finished the last line of Winter’s anthem, which always left her a little melancholy. Why wouldn’t they want it to thaw? Perhaps, the Copper Count wasn’t the best protector for Winter’s people?

A tiny throat cleared, bringing Lexia out of her thoughts. She’d been staring down at her hands on the piano while the children of Tempest Manor waited expectantly for their next lesson. Five in the front, the tenors and altos, and four in the back, the sopranos. They varied in age and maturity, but all of them had been born under Dr. Tempest’s care.

A little girl in the front asked, “Ms. Tempest, can we play our instruments now?” She swiped a hand under her nose and gave a sniff.

Lexia smiled. Kids. She said, “Of course.”

Each of them left their places on the stands to break out woodwinds, violins, and brass. The music room doubled as the ballroom, so the draperies softened the acoustics and made for a perfect room to give lessons.

This time, when Lexia played accompaniment to the anthem, her students played along. Despite a few off-tempo moments or the occasional mistake, they finished their practice without a hitch.

“Excellent. Well done!”

The children beamed at Lexia while they all clapped. She stood from the piano and gave a deep theater bow. The kids clasped their hands together and did the same.

The head chef entered the room, calling, “Marey!”

The little girl with the sniffles stood and said, “Coming,” before running into her mother’s arms.

“Thank you, again, Ms. Tempest for the instruction.” The chef half-curtsied with her daughter in hand. “Say thank you, Marey.”

Marey swiped her nose on her mother’s arm before saying, “Thank you, miss.”

Lexia beamed and closed the lid over the piano keys to hide the extra shine in her eyes. “You were a treasure as always.”

More parents filtered into the room to collect their children—the drivers, cobblers, and the seamstresses. The last of which Lexia asked a favor.

They both gaped at her before breaking out into full grins. “We would love to design a gown for you. Although it’s last minute, I think I have the perfect fabric in mind.”

“And the accessories—We can compile it all out of materials we have here. You’ll steal the floor, even from Count Snow.”

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Well, wasn’t that a bonus?

They took her measurements there on the spot and fussed over her height, while Lexia gave her input here and there. They didn’t agree on every choice, but on one, she refused to back down.

“Lexia?”

She looked up to see her father walk into the room with a curious and slightly bemused expression on his gentle features.

Oh, right.

Lexia said, “I’d planned to tell you while we inspected the combines, but this afternoon got away from me. Gauge Snow has extended an invitation for my presence at the Foundation Ball, and I accepted.”

Leon went still, blinking at his daughter.

The tension mounting in the room brought the seamstresses to excuse themselves, and Lexia frowned as she thanked them for their time. When they were alone, she tried to cut the tension with some news. “The Eastern orchards are asking for a union. I gave our task manager permission to meet their current demands before they escalate out of control—Father, did I do something wrong?” Her voice shook a little. She hadn’t seen her father this way since her mother died.

With a shake of his head, Leon transformed back into the familiar figure of her childhood, saying, “No. Of course not. Did you say he sent you a personal invitation?”

They were back on the subject of Snow. Lexia went to his side and took the arm offered, saying, “Yes. On his signature stationery, or I suppose it must’ve been given it was made entirely out of copper. I returned the favor as is polite, of course. If that’s what you’re worried about.” She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

Leon ran a hand through his sandy brown, chin-length hair while blowing the air from his cheeks. “It’s not the stationery or even the manners that have me concerned, sweetheart.” He led her outside into the acre of gardens off the ballroom’s veranda, collecting his thoughts and considering his words.

It made Lexia more nervous, but she tried to put on a smile for him.

Twinkling lights in the birches and along the hedges illuminated Leon’s weariness as he said, “We have an accord with Count Snow’s mines and the Flicker Factory Masters. It’s a delicate power structure, but it ensures the happiness of everyone who works under us, including you and I.”

“Yes. I’ve read the treatise.” More like memorized it.

Leon peered down at her, almost the same height but with worlds more experience lining his kind gray eyes. He said, “What isn’t written there are the politics at play. One cannot simply trade silk to the loom weavers without it coming under scrutiny of each party at play. There are bids to make and egos to stroke. None of them quite so mercurial as Gauge Snow.”

Oh.

Lexia bit her lip, as her father continued to make his point. “Until this moment, Gauge has ignored your piece on the board, the queen protected by the rest of us pawns. Together, Axis and I kept his attention from you, hoping it would last until you took my seat at our offices on the Boulevard, but it seems we have failed.”

Leon turned and faced his daughter, taking her hands in his. He wouldn’t meet her eyes, and it bothered Lexia. She said, “Father, you’re forgetting that the queen is the most formidable piece on the board. She protects the king and the kingdom.”

That got a smile out of Leon, bitter as it was. “That’s what concerns me.” He lifted his eyes to meet hers, no longer filled with concern. There was irony there, instead. “You are formidable, my child, and there’s no way of knowing how Gauge will respond to you. He could banish you to one of the other cities, or force you to work in the mines. Or, heaven forbid, he might propose to you on the spot.”

Lexia couldn’t contain her laughter, but the slight tightness around her father’s eyes sobered her quickly. She hugged him, saying, “I understand, and I promise to do my best not to shame you or find myself betrothed to the most loathsome man in all of Winter.”

Leon shook his head on top of Lexia’s hair. “That’s the kind of talk that worries me.”