CHAPTER 387: THE DAY BEFORE

The morning air felt thick with anticipation. Or maybe that was just the smell of vendors setting up food stalls for tomorrow’s festival.

Melisa walked through the palace corridors, noting how even the servants moved with nervous energy. Whispered conversations stopped when she passed. Some nim nodded respectfully. Others looked away.

[Great. Nothing says "unity" like people acting weird around you.]

She found Sirah first, standing alone on a balcony overlooking the city. The darian’s massive frame hunched against the railing, her one hand gripping the stone.

Melisa left her to her brooding.

Elsewhere, the sounds hit her before she even rounded the corner. Wet noises. Moaning. A rhythmic thumping against a wall.

[Of course.]

Isabella had Kimiko pressed against a pillar in the hallway, their tongues wrestling while their hips ground together. Both their cocks strained against their clothes. A passing servant walked by without even glancing, like this was totally normal. Knowing the Matriarch, maybe it was.

"Really? In the hallway?"

Isabella pulled back just enough to grin at her.

"Morning, Mel! Want to join?"

"It’s barely noon!"

"Perfect time for a quickie!" Kimiko agreed, reaching for Melisa’s hand.

Melisa stepped back.

"I need to check on everyone else."

"Boring!" Isabella went back to devouring her mother’s mouth.

The thumping resumed before Melisa even made it around the corner.

The merchant square buzzed with activity. Vendors hawked everything from silk scarves to questionable potions. Melisa spotted her parents at a jewelry stall, Margaret holding up a necklace while Melistair examined the price tag.

"It’s beautiful," Margaret said, the gems catching the light.

"It’s expensive," Melistair countered.

"Everything here is expensive."

"Okay. This is especially expensive."

Margaret turned to the vendor.

"Would you take forty suns?"

"Forty? For genuine starstone? The price is sixty!"

"Fifty."

"Fifty-five."

"Deal!" Margaret handed over the coins before Melistair could protest. "Oh, Melisa! Perfect timing! Help me put this on."

Melisa fastened the clasp while her father shook his head.

"You didn’t need another necklace."

"I didn’t need the last three either, but here we are." Margaret admired her reflection in a mirror. "How are you holding up, sweetheart?"

"I’m fine."

"You look tired."

"Thanks, mom. Really what I needed to hear."

"I’m just saying! Have you been eating enough? Getting enough sleep? Enough sex?"

"Mom!"

"What? It’s a legitimate concern for our kind!"

Melistair coughed.

"Perhaps we could discuss this somewhere less public?"

Margaret rolled her eyes but grabbed his arm.

"Fine. But we’re having a proper talk later, young lady!"

They wandered off to terrorize another vendor.

Near the main gates, Raven stood stiffly beside two kitsune guards, notebook in hand.

"And the perimeter checks?"

"Every hour," one guard said, clearly confused why this human teenager was interrogating them.

"What about magical wards?"

"Three layers, plus the Matriarch’s personal barriers."

"Escape routes?"

"Why would we need—"

"Seventeen pre-designated evacuation points," the other guard interrupted, shooting his partner a look. "All marked with blue banners."

Raven scribbled furiously.

"Good. What about—"

"Raven." Melisa touched her shoulder. "They’ve got it covered."

"We don’t know what the Shadow Mages are planning."

"Which is why the entire guard is on alert."

"But—"

"Come on. Let’s get some food. You can interrogate the kitchen staff about poison protocols."

Raven actually considered it for a moment before realizing Melisa was joking.

"I’m just trying to be prepared."

"I know. But driving yourself crazy won’t help anyone."

They walked toward the gardens. Raven’s hand twitched toward where her blade usually hung, forgetting they’d been asked to go unarmed in the palace.

"Isabella and I had sex," Raven said suddenly.

Melisa nearly tripped.

"You’ve done that a few times now, yeah."

"This time..." Raven trailed off. "It was... adequate."

Melisa snorted.

"Adequate?"

"Very adequate."

"High praise coming from you."

Raven sighed.

"She’s surprisingly considerate for someone so..." Raven searched for the word.

"Horny? Slutty? Insatiable?"

"Enthusiastic."

Melisa laughed.

"That’s one way to put it."

---

She found Aria in a quiet garden, sitting on a stone bench beneath flowering trees. The queen looked smaller somehow, without her formal robes and crown. Just a young woman in a simple dress, tired from carrying too much weight.

"Mind if I sit?"

Aria shifted to make room.

"How’s the preparation going?"

"Rakia has... opinions. Many, many opinions."

"Seems she usually does." Aria rubbed her temples. "I’ve been fitted for six different outfits. Apparently, none of them properly ’capture my essence.’"

"What’s your essence supposed to be?"

"According to Rakia? ’Regal but approachable, commanding but soft, with undertones of sexual frustration.’"

Melisa snorted.

"She said that last part out loud?"

"Very loudly. To my face. While adjusting my chest binding."

They sat in comfortable silence, watching birds hop between branches.

"I’m exhausted," Melisa admitted. "And it’s only been a week."

"Try doing this every day for years." Aria’s lips twitched. "Though I suppose you might have to, given how often you’re at the palace now."

"The advisors back home love me that much?"

"They tolerate you. Which, for them, is basically love."

"How touching."

Another stretch of quiet. The garden smelled like jasmine and something sweeter Melisa couldn’t identify.

"It’s been interesting," Melisa said. "Seeing different sides of you."

"Oh?"

"I dunno. You’re funnier than I expected. More... human."

"Careful. Can’t have people thinking the queen has feelings."

"Your secret’s safe with me."

Aria turned to look at her properly.

"When this is over, the festival and politics and everything..."

"Yeah?"

"We should spend more time together. Without the ceremonies and meetings and assassination attempts."

"Are you asking me on a date, Your Majesty?"

Aria’s cheeks went pink.

"I’m suggesting we could benefit from continued diplomatic relations."

"That’s the least romantic way anyone’s ever—"

"MELISA!"

Rakia appeared from nowhere, grabbing Melisa’s arm.

"Final rehearsal! Now! We have exactly twenty-seven hours to perfect the third movement!"

"The third movement was fine yesterday!"

"Fine is not TRANSCENDENT!"

She started dragging Melisa away. Melisa looked back at Aria, who was trying not to smile.

"Diplomatic relations!" Melisa called. "We’ll discuss terms later!"

---

The rehearsal space had been transformed. Silk banners hung from the ceiling, mirrors lined every wall, and Rakia had somehow acquired a full orchestra to practice with.

"From the top! And remember, you’re not just dancing, you’re telling the story of two peoples becoming one!"

"Through grinding?"

"Through ARTISTIC EXPRESSION that happens to involve grinding!"

They ran through the routine twelve times. Each time Rakia found something to adjust—a hand placement, a hip angle, the precise arch of Melisa’s back during the lift.

"Better! But your sexual energy needs more desperation!"

"How do I make sexual energy desperate?"

"Think about something you want but can’t have!"

[Like a full night’s sleep?]

By the time they finished, the sun was setting. Melisa’s legs shook. Her ceremonial outfit was soaked with sweat. Rakia, somehow, still bounced with energy.

"Perfect! Well, adequate. Well, it’ll have to do!"

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"You’re going to be magnificent." Rakia grabbed her face with both hands. "The crowd will lose their minds. The Shadow Mages won’t know what hit them. And maybe, just maybe, we’ll prevent a racial war!"

"No pressure."

"Exactly! Now go eat something. You need energy for tomorrow."

Melisa stumbled toward the door.

"Now go! And no sex tonight! Save that energy for the performance!"

"You literally just told me to think about sexual desperation!"

"Exactly! Edge yourself! For art!"

Walking back to her quarters, Melisa tried to quiet the anxiety building in her chest. Tomorrow would determine so much. The festival. The city’s future. Maybe even the relationship between nim and kitsune everywhere.

Whatever the Shadow Mages were planning, whatever chaos they intended to unleash, Melisa and her friends would face it.

They had to be ready.

[We better be ready.]