Didi waited beneath the portico with a map cylinder clamped against her cloak while carriages jostled beyond the palace steps. Hajin kept his arm beneath the mantle as the escorts stopped at the arch, leaving the company beside her carriage.
"Inside," she snapped, yanking the door open before the nearest departing retinue could roll up beside the steps, "unless you'd like another audience with everyone who spent supper inventing reasons to hate you."
He gripped the carriage rail with his good hand, angling his damaged side away from the frame, "How many audiences come with the title?"
"I'd love to know before I finish paying for tonight's clothes."
"The kind that sends a bill afterward," she drawled, holding the door while Juna slipped in after him, "now move over before the wheels become another place to hold court."
Juna kept the mantle's edge clear of the hanging sling as she settled, her nose wrinkling at the cushions.
"It smells like perfume and somebody's nerves in here."
