It was noon in Voltaire. The people had gathered on the square where a large podium stood tall across the palace gate. The King and Queen of Voltaire had taken their seats on the podium, with their two princes and many princesses that nobody had the time to count on because Edmund had countless mistresses. They looked like a dozen, but nothing had always as it seemed to be. Below the podium, millions of people stood in an orderly fashion. A priest was standing in the middle of the podium, trying to calm the masses.
And Seraphine was late.
Fashionably late.
Eliza had been dragging Seraphine to make the girl walk faster. But when they had reached the special pathway made from the palace gate to the podium, Eliza stopped abruptly, which made Seraphine halt too. The old woman forced Sera
