Luxa is in the midst of one of those rare moments of all-consuming bliss when the crown falls It is Hazard's birthday, and he is beyond overjoyed — marveling at his new Overland toy, dancing and giggling with various kids, at ease and happy in a way that she had, secretly, been so very afraid that he would not become again after his father and Frill had gone. And Luxa is happy, too. She, too, has found herself happy in a way that she did not think she would become again. She has a cousin, a brother, now. One who is happy and who does not fear or fall. So she has allowed herself, for only a day, to enjoy herself. To frolic and laugh.

To enjoy herself with Gregor like this.

The dance has ended. She is laughing in spite of herself, in spite of everything. Gregor has such a look in his eyes. His eyes are deep and glowing, reaching far beyond his face. As if he is peering at something and making great discoveries about it.

And then the crown falls. It drops out of the air, landing almost perfectly between them. It is dirt-covered and dull, but it is still golden; it would still fit perfectly onto her head, as if it had never left.

Hermes hovers above. "For you, Your Highness," he says. "Sent by a nibbler I encountered at Queenshead. She said that you would know its meaning."

The bliss disappears. It goes quickly, like a corpse tossed haphazardly in the river, leaving only a raging stream of fear in its wake. Horror, anger.

Her crown is before her.

Her crown has been returned to her hand.

Oh, how she had hoped to never see that crown again.

For the nibblers would not send that crown without a reason. They would not send the crown lightly, for they are capable enough on their own. They would not have sent her crown to her feet had not a peril so great befallen them that they would ask not only a queen of Regalia for help, but a dear friend.

Faintly, she feels her own heart thud against her chest with tremendous speed. It is light thudding. So light that she barely feels it, for the only place her very being is capable of being is in the throes of fear and apprehension for the nibblers.

Ground yourself, she tells herself, let on nothing.

For if she lets on that anything is wrong, that anything is happening, if she lets on even a sliver of the gravity of this matter, somebody will notice, and then the council will know, and she will be under guard twenty four hours a day. And then the nibblers might be doomed.

So she only laughs. The sharp inhale she had drawn as the flash of gold passed before her eyes turns into a laugh brimming with mirth at her own silliness. "It means I was again forgetful of where I laid my crown, Hermes. I thank you for your trouble."

She bends, then, to let her hand feel that familiar cold metal that had rested on her head day in and day out since the day Gorger took her parents. She almost balks at its lightness. This crown had felt so heavy on her head once. Now, she bears one that is even heavier. And yet her shoulders have not buckled yet.

Raising a hand, she catches Aurora off to the side. Her bond's wings flutter with tension.

This, thinks Luxa, is not good.