We always had Letilia showing up in the first chapter, but originally the aftermath of her arrival played out somewhat differently. This didn’t have quite enough snap to become the finished version, but more Letilia awkwardness is always welcome, right?

. . . don’t answer that.

* * *

Her accent would have embarrassed a street performer, but Ren had heard it before, when Letilia went through phases of trying to sound Seterin. Daughter — ship from Seteris — she knows.

Letilia knew damn well that she had no daughter, of course. But she must have heard the stories about Renata, and she was playing to them. But did she recognize —

Swooping in to embrace her supposed offspring, Letilia dug her fingers hard into Renata’s arms and whispered, “Hello, Ren.”

The smile Ren troweled onto her face had to look as fake as it felt . . . but no one would wonder at that. They all knew Renata harbored no warm feelings for her mother. Inside, her heart was beating fit to break her ribs. No, Letilia had not forgotten the half-Vraszenian girl who served as her maid for five long years in Ganllech.

Pulling back to study Ren — and to play to her audience — Letilia cried, “Ah, my poor girl. Overcome into speechlessness. No tears, please! This is a happy reunion!”

Her gloved thumbs swiped roughly across Ren’s cheeks under the guise of maternal care, gaze flicking down to check the fabric. It was clean. Of course it was. Ren paid a lot for the imbued cosmetics that lightened her skin enough to pass for Liganti.

“I–” Overcome was right. She couldn’t find the words, couldn’t puzzle out Letilia’s game. The urge to run was strong. Grab Tess, grab Grey, and flee. But she couldn’t even move to do that.

And then, before she could figure out what she could do, Donaia stepped in to pry Renata out of Letilia’s hold.

“Letilia. Don’t overwhelm the girl. Of course she’s surprised to see you; we all are. How did you manage to gain entry? This is a private, family affair.” The scowl she fixed on the doormen who’d been hassling Alinka said that they’d be doubly reprimanded for this additional failure in their duties.

“And am I not family with my own daughter?” Then Letilia drew back, with theatrical hurt. “But of course you adopted her, didn’t you? Without so much as a letter to your own mother, to say you’re abandoning her!”

There were so many ways this could go wrong, Ren couldn’t even count them all. Letilia wouldn’t know about the correspondence Sostira Novrus had with Ebarius Viraudax, her supposed husband — much less the thousand details Ren had invented over the months. She had to get the woman out of here before things cracked to a degree she couldn’t spackle over.

Her gaze swept the people around her. Allies, all, but only three of them understood what they were allied against. Tess’s face had gone as white as salt, her freckles standing out like wounds; she knew better than anyone just how bad this was. Grey, next to her, wore only a look of mild surprise — he was good at hiding his true thoughts. Neither of them had any grounds to intervene, though.

[]

With the quickness of a minnow, Giuna insinuated alongside Donaia, mother and daughter working in concert to form a shield between false mother and false daughter.

“But how lovely that you could make my celebration, Aunt Letilia. And since it’s mine, it’s certainly no issue for you to stay.” Quelling her mother’s hiss with a glance, Giuna tucked her arm into Letilia’s, moving them both further out of Renata’s orbit. “You’ve been gone so long, why don’t I introduce you around?”

As though stealing a partner for a dance, Vargo stepped up, curling his hand around Letilia’s like smoke. He tugged her close enough to make propriety blush. “Allow me to be the first? Eret Derossi Vargo. Most definitely at your service.”

Alsius’ mental howls of laughter drowned out whatever Letilia said in response, but the sudden, avid interest of her expression spoke loud enough. Of course: she had no idea who Vargo was. She only saw a very well-dressed nobleman whose scars didn’t detract from his appeal.

While Vargo and Giuna distracted Letilia, drawing her away, Grey slipped up to Renata’s side. His voice was the deferential tone of a commoner to an alta, but the discreet touch of his hand on her back steadied her. “Do you wish to leave?”

“Yes, take her,” Donaia said. “Giuna and I can handle Letilia until you’re ready, Renata. In fact, I look forward to taking my hand to her.”

Tess appeared on Renata’s other side and draped a wrap around her, turning her from the attention of the room. “Don’t you dare think it,” she murmured. Her sister, who knew her better than anyone. “Letilia deserves whatever dish she’s served. I’ll stay to make certain her tongue doesn’t wag.”

Her sister, who had as much reason to fear Letilia as she did. More. Tess wasn’t an adopted noblewoman here, and she was still a wanted criminal in Ganllech.

“No,” Renata said, brushing aside their help. Letilia was a problem of her own creation; she had to be the one to deal with it.

Letilia was glowing with satisfaction in the middle of a crowd — not of admirers, not exactly, but certainly curiosity-seekers. Those of Donaia’s age and older remembered her from decades before; the younger set had only heard stories. As Renata approached, she heard someone say, “And, ah — your gown. What an unusual style.”

She must have inverted one of her usual dresses. A fanatical movement for austerity had taken over Ganllech a generation ago, outlawing many luxuries, including those of clothing. But of course the elites were hardly going to deprive themselves of their pleasures; instead they hid them, creating clothes that could transform to reveal secret panels of embroidery and beading when they were in private. It looked like Letilia had turned all of that outward to look as rich as possible. But why?

Letilia tittered into her hand. “Isn’t it marvelous? It’s the newest fashion in Seteris — Ganllechyn motifs are all the rage there. I suppose that hasn’t reached Nadežra yet.”

Gazes flicked to Renata as she joined the cluster. Originally she’d passed her clothing off as the latest in Seterin style; over time that excuse had fallen away, leaving credit for her elegance entirely to Tess. Now she could see everyone comparing the surcoats — the light ripple of amethyst silk broken only by a scattering of delicate dragonflies contrasted against the embroidery-thickened panel weighed down with jewels.

And Letilia could see it, too. Her expression soured in a way Ren remembered all too well: Letilia hated being judged second to anyone.

“Mother,” she said, forcing as much sweetness into her tone as she could stomach. “You’re right that it’s been far too long since I wrote. Don’t you think we should catch up? Perhaps in private — I wouldn’t want to distract from Giuna’s night.”

“Now?” Letilia surveyed her audience, pressing closer to Vargo, who managed to look reluctant as he pried himself free.

“If your daughter wants your time, who am I to stand in the way,” he said aloud, and mentally, ::I can send Alsius along if you need to call in help.::

Visions of Alsius biting Letilia, with all the excruciating venom of a king peacock spider, danced through Ren’s head.

Letilia batted her eyelashes at him. “Very well, but do call on me soon. In fact, I look forward to receiving everyone’s invitations. I have so much news to share. I’m at the Silver Crescent. Their finest rooms, of course.” Releasing Vargo, Letilia flounced over to Renata and said sweetly, “Come, my poppet. Let’s talk.”