According to the Pyxis Freedom Press, the city was abuzz—on street corners, in the taverns, schools, and places of work, rest, worship, and play. The upcoming nuptials of Mr. Joseph MacRae to Miss Cassiopeia Labelle, the Prime Minister's son to the princess and heir, apparently aroused much interest, discussion, and speculation among all social classes.

While Cassie was enduring the final fitting for her Commencement Gala gown, she read aloud the featured article about her wedding in the latest edition of the Pyxis Freedom Press. Alexander, her dressmaker, was her only audience and he was especially ill-tempered. The strapless lavender dress she was supposed to be wearing in three days fit dreadfully, or so he claimed in his overly dramatic French accent.

"Over five hundred guests. Can you believe that? I must speak to Joe about this before the invitations officially go out," Cassie said as Alexander tugged hard.

She almost lost her balance.

"I assumed it would be over a thousand," Alexander hissed between the pins in his mouth, his accent even thicker that way.

He had been fussing with her train, but he rose to his full height at the knee to attack the beadwork at the bodice. His bifocals must have been magically enchanted (even though no such item existed to her knowledge) because he was able to detect a pucker the ordinary fairy eye could not perceive.

"A thousand?" She emitted a quick mirthless laugh. "That's not a wedding. That's a circus parade!"

"In France, Royals never complain unless too few arrive."

"It's a good thing we're not in France, then."

"Hmmm. . ." he droned, making it obvious where he'd rather be.

Cassie pretended not to notice. "And the wedding is in June. When I agreed to a 'summer' wedding, I was envisioning late August."

The more she read, the more exasperated she became. The Pyxis Freedom Press seemed to know more about her wedding than she did. She tried to take in a deep calming breath, but the corset underneath her dress wouldn't allow for it. She took in a few sips of air instead and then tossed the paper onto her bed, not feeling any better about the whole affair.

"Would you please hold still?"

"I am holding still," she insisted. "As still as possible under the circumstances."

"Your definition of 'still' varies greatly from my own. And keep your fingers away from the fabric. You are absolutely covered in ink!"

Cassie flipped her hands back and forth. She thought she had been careful. Oh, but then she finally noticed a tiny smudge of ink on the outside of her right pinky finger. She attempted to rub it off with her other hand.

"And now both of your hands are soiled," Alexander complained without even looking up from the shimmery fabric.

She emitted a deep sigh this time, stretching seams not designed to stretch. "Alexander, can we take a break? We've been at this for hours."

Alexander let the needle drop. He sat back on his haunches and wiped his moist brow with his sleeve. "It has been one hour, and no. We'll never finish this disaster by Saturday unless you suffer a little longer."

Before he had a chance to take another stab with the needle, she shifted her body toward the three-paneled mirror. She faced her reflection head on and then shifted to the side to see the back of the gloriously flowing train. "I think it looks wonderful."

He didn't seem to pick up on the cue that it was time to call it a day. He resumed the work on the bodice without even a glance of acknowledgement.

Cassie internalized her displeasure by closing her eyes—she could endure the discomfort a little longer—and she relived the soprano solo she had heard the previous evening.

Joe had insisted she join him for a concert at the university. Usually, so late in the evening, she would have declined, and he would have accepted that.

Just before they had arrived, Joe explained in great detail how he helped the Chair of the Music Department "program" the magical harp. There were glitches they had to overcome in only one afternoon and he was a little worried about the harp's temperament—unpredictable at best. By the time their carriage turned onto University Lane, Cassie believed she was in for a long night, and not in a good way.

The night was long, but she ended up enjoying every act. It was the first graduating class since the university's induction and they put on a truly memorable performance. For the grand finale, the vocal ensemble took flight, hovering in a circle around the magical harp. Their choreography was flawless, their vocals, uplifting. They were like a choir of angels. The harp had a mind of its own, but it apparently relished the limelight. Last but certainly not least, the fem-fairy soloist, aptly named Dolce, emerged on a pedestal at the center of the formation. Not only did Dolce look like an angel, she sang like one as well.

A stab of pain in the ball of her foot brought Cassie back to the present. She wished she could wiggle her toes, but the lovely little stilettos she was wearing wouldn't allow for it. Instead, she shifted her weight from one tired foot to the next. And when she did, her ankle gave out on her. Her right foot slipped off the edge of the stool she was standing on and she toppled toward the floor. Though she was able to catch her balance once her feet hit the ground, it came after the shearing sound.

"My work is . . . is ruined!" Alexander wailed, and he immediately began spewing off curse words in French. Cassie was also fluent in French and he was well aware of this, but he wasn't one for deference in the heat of the moment.

"Je suis très désolé. I am very sorry," she muttered softly. "La robe peut être réparé? Can the dress be repaired?"

"I am not a magician!" he huffed as he snipped off the sewing needle. He gathered his remaining supplies in a messy heap and shoved them into his satchel.

"Where are you going? I said I was sorry."

"I quit!" he informed her on his way to the door. "I refuse to work with someone who has the attention span of a little girl. Au revoir!"

Cassie looked down at her fiddling fingers as more curse words filled the East Hall. She blinked the tears away and let her hands drop. As she squirmed to get the buttons of her gown to a place where she could reach them, she convinced herself to feel nothing. The emptier she was, the less pain others could inflict upon her. She should have been an expert at freeing herself from the burden of strong emotion. After all, she'd had years of practice.

And blood that damned her. . .

Once the gown slipped off, Cassie removed her heels and knelt down to assess the damage. Alexander had moved to the train and was bustling the fabric to give the back more volume. She dug through the frills and layers of fabric until she found the tear. Although not especially large, it was just below the waistline. In the gown's current condition, it wasn't wearable, even by her standards.

Cassie knew Alexander would come back . . . eventually. He had quit a few times on her before, though never quite so theatrically. But he always returned once he cooled off and faced the fact that he had burned too many bridges in France. Cassie was skeptical, though, that he would resume work in time to make the dress wearable for the gala on Saturday.

She loosened her corset and threw her robe over a shoulder with a wince, forgetting to be careful. The poison from Andromeda's dagger felt like it would never leave the site of impact. She was lucky to be alive. That's what everyone always told her anyway.

Lucky, she considered as she curled up on her window seat with her robe in place and tied closed. She had needed a break and now she had one. Good fortune strikes again. And, as usual, she found herself alone and wanting.

She adjusted the pillows at her back and took one to hold in her lap. At exactly that moment, the torches lighting the entranceway to Pyxis began to multiply, some of which began to move forward.

Fairies would often exit or enter the main gate, though it was a rare that someone would require such a grand procession. A fairy of particular importance was entering Pyxis. As the group moved closer, Cassie could tell by the way they bobbed that they were all flying. She immediately lost interest.

Then, from somewhere in the hall outside her chamber, the happy squeal of a child captured her attention. Judging by the sound, two little fists pounded on her door, low and off center.

The door flew open before Cassie could utter a "come in."

"Sie-sie!" the young fairy boy called out as he flew into her arms. He gave her a tight hug around her neck.

"Let her breathe, Procyon," Lyra scolded as she flew in after him, breathless from the chase. Some color flushed through her cheeks once she realized it was too late to stop her young son from such a pointed attack.

Lyra was once a chambermaid at the palace. Now she was a staff supervisor, one of only three, as a result of Cassie's recommendation. She was someone from Andromeda's staff that Cassie insisted they keep and promote. She had assured the MacRaes that Lyra would work hard and would never give them any trouble. And Cassie had been right, and she didn't mind the current "intrusion."

Procyon's grip eased, just a touch, and then he planted a wet kiss on Cassie's cheek. He settled into a place on her lap.

"This is a pleasant surprise!" Cassie said, looking into the boy's dark eyes and then into his mother's slightly reproachful ones. "I know how busy your mother is, especially keeping an eye on you, little one! Have you been good for her today?"

He nodded confidently while his mother shook her head.

"Are you sure? I won't let you play 'soldier' unless you've been good."

Cassie playfully squinted one eye. The boy nodded even more assuredly.

"All right. If you insist."

Cassie went to her bureau drawer and pulled out a black case with a handle. She set it down on the area rug next to her bed. Procyon opened the box right away and began lining up the tiny fairy soldiers, solid metal, hand crafted, and painted in Pyxis' proud red and blue. It had withstood time and the hands of many young kings in training. It was once her older brother's and he sometimes let her play with it, too.

"I saw Alexander clearing out his things." Lyra took a seat on the floor next to her son, though her neck was craned toward the abandoned jumble of purple frills on the floor. "Is everything all right?"

Cassie sat down in the rocking chair at the edge of the rug. It was at an angle where she could still see out her window if she leaned forward and stretched a bit. "He'll probably never forgive me for my clumsiness. How dare I trip over my own feet and ruin his masterpiece?"

Lyra turned to face forward. "He has been out of sorts lately. I think I know why, which makes this unannounced visit rather timely. A 'congratulations' is in order."

Cassie pulled her head back and raised an eyebrow. "What exactly are you congratulating me for?"

"Your engagement, silly! Alexander is buckling under the pressure to design your wedding gown."

Cassie clutched both sides of her head. "Where is my mind today? Please don't tell Joe," she said with a cringe. "The news of our engagement has been circulating like mad over the last few days. It hardly feels like 'news' anymore."

Lyra bit her lower lip. She held back the smile or giggle, but her amusement sparkled in her eyes regardless. "I understand. I won't say a word."

Cassie breathed in a sigh of relief. She believed Lyra. She trusted her. Could they ever be friends? Yes and no. Lyra was lovely, kind, hardworking, and always had been. They grew up together, Lyra just a few years older. Although there were notable exceptions, for the most part, Lyra, her extended family, and their close friends, mostly staff from kitchen, were among the reasons Cassie survived until adulthood.

Perhaps in another time and place they would be like sisters. In Pyxis, however, it wouldn't be easy or readily accepted. The class structure was too rigid. Leadership had changed hands . . . and at great cost. It affected everything and essentially nothing. Boundaries were in place, in their minds most of all. As much as they both meant well, too much had happened, and Pyxis wasn't going to let them forget.

"It has been quite a while since we've seen you," Lyra said, moving the conversation forward, despite any help from Cassie, whose mind needed a moment to return from the tangent. "Right, Procyon?" Lyra smoothed out her son's hair. "He asks about you quite often. Well, more often he asks about the soldiers."

Cassie watched the boy line up the soldiers with such a natural inclination. It made her smile. "He is welcome at any time. I think Cy has grown quite a bit since the last time I've seen him. He looks more and more like his father every day." Cassie looked up, this time trying to capture Lyra's gaze.

Lyra's reddening cheeks confirmed the truth. Procyon was the offspring of Canis Major, Cassie's dead older brother. By blood, the boy was the only living male heir to the throne. Or, he would have been if Canis had lived and had been allowed to marry whom he pleased.

He was always fond of Lyra, and she was with child, his child—winged, bright, and as handsome as his mother and father were. Canis was no angel, but he would have done the right thing, had he lived and known. Sauvageaus weren't known for their inexhaustible fertility or live births without complications; a live mother and healthy child were beyond precious.

The laws were clear, though. Illegitimacy had no place in the succession plan. There were historically no exceptions.

"How did you know?" Lyra asked after a long silence. "I never told anyone."

"I figured it out for myself. He has Sauvageau eyes." Cassie watched Lyra defer her gaze to her son with tears in her eyes. "I apologize for bringing it up."

Lyra shrugged and wiped her eyes dry. "It's ancient history," she stated with a flutter of the hand. "But I still think of him. Procyon does have his eyes. In a way, I am reminded of him every day. Do you think it's strange that I still miss him?"

"No, not at all. You loved him. You always did. That's not something that ever vanishes. Time can't heal everything."

"You probably think I am crazy for falling for him. He never loved me back. That's obvious."

"I'm not sure that's true," Cassie replied slowly and deliberately.

Lyra pursed her lips to the side. "Me and half the fem-fairies in the palace, Pyxis, and beyond, including my own sister! There are probably little boys with Sauvageau eyes all over this wretched city!"

Cassie giggled. "All right. You have a point, but that was after my mother successfully expelled his sense of morality. Before that, I'm sure you haven't forgotten that precocious boy who had more enemies than friends. The only time I ever saw him speechless, however, was in your presence, Lyra. I'm not sure you realized it, but he used to follow you around while you did your chores for years before you acknowledged him. He would linger in the hallways nearby and would hide from view as soon as you emerged."

Lyra confirmed the shared memory with a slight smile. "It used to bother me. One time I asked him to stop. He claimed he could be anywhere and do anything he pleased because he was the future king. I was bold enough to say, 'well then, you must have better uses for your time.' I expected him to reprimand me or make some kind of threat. Instead, he said, 'I want to show you something.' He took me to the West Tower roof. We just sat there, overlooking the stream. He didn't say another word until I stood to leave. 'Can you meet me here tomorrow? Same time?' And that was how it all began. But it all ended when he left for the academy."

"I know how you must have felt," Cassie added. "I was young, but perceptive enough to realize he would never be the same. No one ever returns to their former selves once they are indoctrinated."

"I wasn't nearly as clever. When he returned on holiday for the first time, he was different. One afternoon, I was on duty, and stumbled upon him with . . . Ursa, who was supposed to be doing her job." Lyra pinched her eyes shut and paused, clearly reliving one of her worst experiences. "We were all still so . . . young, especially Ursa, mature beyond her years, evidently. I decided to catch his attention again the only way I could. My own sister, though. She knew Canis and I were close and could never let that be. To this day, I can't forgive her. And he's long gone."

"I still believe he loved you, in his own way," Cassie reassured her. "You brought out the best in him. And I think we both know which side of him Ursa catered to. But, unfortunately, like his predecessors, his one true love was power. Everything else he chose to do was to complement the image he was hoping to portray. And Andromeda tempted him with enough power to keep him loyal and obsessed. The Canis we once knew was dead long before that bleak night in Pyxis."

Lyra and Cassie looked over at the content child playing on the rug, oblivious to the woes of the past and the present.

"Please, Cassiopeia, don't speak of this to anyone," she pleaded softly. "Not even with Joseph. My husband doesn't even know."

"Don't worry. I won't. It's safer for your family that way."

"I want what's best for my son and that includes a life outside of these walls. He should have a normal, happy childhood. Sargus and I are saving what we can of our wages. We hope to open an inn on The Mainway. We'll finally be free of this place and the demons that linger here."

"Sargus is an excellent baker, my personal favorite," Cassie affirmed and it was no exaggeration. Sargus and his father, may he rest in peace, made these sticky buns that were to die for. In truth, she took on great risk to "steal" them from the kitchen, ones they just so happened to leave on a plate beside her most frequently used crawl hole. "I'm sure you will both succeed there, and I will do anything I can to help. I will miss you, though. I'm not certain I'll survive without his pastries . . . or your company."

"You will be married. You'll hardly notice our absence," Lyra teased.

"That's not true. Now that I am engaged, I see Joe less than ever. When we're married. . . ?"

The window captured Cassie's eyes and took the remaining words from her mouth. The gates of Pyxis were opening again. She shifted to the edge of her rocking chair for a better view.

She leaned back again after a glance at the mantle clock. The day shift for the guards had ended. The evening shift was about to begin.

"It seems, at times, your mind is elsewhere," Lyra commented.

Cassie forced a smile and turned back to her. "No, my mind is exactly where it should be. Here in my head, in this palace, where all the 'demons linger' as you so aptly stated earlier."

"Maybe it's your soul that tends to wander, then. A soul that seeks its mate."

It was a bold statement, and not one Cassie cared to validate, even though Lyra had been candid with her. And Cassie didn't have to comment, condemn, dismiss it, or make some excuse. The matter was cut short by a firm knock on the door.

"Come in," Cassie called out.

Joe entered the chamber, dressed to impress, and holding his pocket watch in one hand and his activity logbook in the other.

Lyra stood up, nodded a good-bye, and urged Procyon to get up as well. She hushed his whimper of protest with a firm grip and a whisper in his ear. He was on her hip and cooperative not more than a moment later.

He was a strong-willed child. That meant Lyra was an amazing mother, a quality Canis would have required in his youth and respected as an adult. And for reasons beyond reason, Cassie had to look away.

"Oh. Hello, Lyra," Joe said as she fluttered toward the door with her son in her arms. As Joe entered the room, he quickly redirected his attention to Cassie and his eyes went wide. "Why aren't you dressed yet?" He rushed over to where she was sitting. "We have to be there in fifteen minutes," he placed the back of his hand against her forehead.

Cassie wasn't feverish, luckily, but she was suddenly jittery and dizzy. "I'm not really feeling all that well. Do you mind going without me?"

They were scheduled for a dinner party, not one of any great consequence. Joe was perfectly capable of carrying on without her.

"No, I suppose not. But the fem-fairies are expecting you there. And you know they'll want to see the ring."

She forced a complaint smile. "You're right. I'm sorry. I'll get dressed."

"Are you sure? Do you want me to get you something for the pain? Is it your head again?"

"No, I'll be fine. I'll meet you in the Hall of Crystal in a few minutes."

These days, the Hall of Crystal was a misnomer. There was no longer anything of impressive value there on display. Andromeda may have lost the battle, the Victory Battle to be precise, but the spoils of war, her most cherished treasures, were undoubtedly still in her possession, wherever she was on the globe. . . .

Joe's demeanor brightened. Still, his anxiety was practically ricocheting off the walls and he left the room at a faster pace than when he had entered.

Cassie took a deep breath, the air more consumable in his absence. She stood, though she remained by the window, not completely succumbing to the pressure to hurry.

The main entrance to Pyxis remained static. The gates were closed. No one was coming. No one was going. The torches were steady dots of light, not even a breeze there to make them flicker.

Cassie sighed and closed her curtains with a resonating whoosh.

⭐️⭐️⭐️

A Fine Frenzy. Last of Days.

~

"The world carries on without you

But nothing remains the same

I'll be lost without you

Until the last of days"

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