"Sit down," Lady Constance ordered in her brisk tone.

Everyone peered past the two women, trying to catch the first glimpse of their god-queen. Two well-armored guards emerged and took up positions on either side of the table. But no one else appeared.

Where is the empress?

"Modina, I said sit down," Lady Constance repeated.

Shock rippled through Amilia.

Modina? This waif of a child is the empress?

The girl did not appear to hear Lady Constance and stood limp with a blank expression. She looked to be a teenager, delicate and deathly thin. Once she might have been pretty, but what remained was an appalling sight. The girl's face was white as bone, her skin thin and stretched, revealing the detailed outline of her skull beneath. Her ragged blonde hair fell across her face. She wore only a thin white smock which added to the girl's ghostly appearance.

Lady Constance sighed and forced the girl into one of the chairs at the baker's table. Like a doll, the girl allowed herself to be moved. She said nothing and her eyes stared blankly.

"Place the napkin in your lap this way." Lady Constance carefully opened and laid the linen with deliberate movements. She waited, glaring at the empress who sat oblivious. "As empress, you will never serve yourself," Lady Constance went on. "You will wait as your servants fill your plate." Lady Constance looked around with irritation when her eyes found Amilia. "You-come here," she ordered. "Serve her eminence."

Amilia dropped the brush in the basin and, wiping her hands on her smock, rushed forward. She wanted to mention she had no experience with serving, but said nothing. Instead she focused on recalling the times she watched Leif cutting meat. Taking up the tongs and a knife she tried her best to imitate him. Leif always made it look effortless, but Amilia's fingers betrayed her and she fumbled miserably, managing only to place a few shredded bits of lamb on the girl's plate.