‘But I haven’t washed or changed.’
Her grandmother raised an eyebrow. ‘You barely broke into a sweat today; we’ve spent most of the time talking. Go, now, and I’ll see you later.’
‘Fine,’ said Emily, getting to her feet. She leaned over and kissed her Grandma on the cheek, then turned for the door. A Reaper servant was standing in the hallway, and she gathered Emily’s hat, scarf and fur-lined cloak from the pegs by the front door.
‘Ma’am,’ she said, bowing.
Emily wrapped the scarf round her neck, then pulled the cloak over her shoulders, feeling the warmth of the fur against her skin. She strode to the door and the servant opened it for her, bowing. Emily stepped outside into the crisp winter morning and filled her lungs with the fresh, cold air. She placed the hat on her head, and smiled. A beautiful day, she thought. The sky was clear, and stretched from blue to pink to red above her head. She walked into the street, and pulled a pair of white leather gloves from a pocket. The temperature was bitterly cold, and in a few steps she had felt her fingers go almost numb. Her grandmother lived on a street lined with elegant townhouses on one side, and a park on the other, with grass, flowers and a grove of oak and beech trees.
She smiled to a young couple with a pram as she walked past the trees, and imagined doing the same thing with Daniel. Would he be the kind of man who would be interested in taking walks with the baby? Would she enjoy it? She shuddered. Babies. She pushed the thought out of her mind. Plenty of time for that later. Much later.
She turned left at a junction and saw the heights where Maeladh Palace sat, its dark exterior shining in the sunlight. Along from it were the trees and rooftops of Princeps Row, where the Aurelian mansion was situated. She had climbed the steps and taken a good look at the place after meeting Daniel at the villa, to see what kind of life he had to offer her; but had been inside only once, when she had crept into his bedroom. Her heart raced at the memory. She had been terrified of being discovered by his mother, but it had been worth it for the look on Daniel’s face when he had realised what she had done. Going to him that second time had been a gamble, but her own desire had played a part; it hadn’t all been about getting him to commit. In hindsight it had worked out. As the only other time they had seen each other since had been at the harbour watching the God-Queen anoint Prince Marcus, she was glad that they had created another memory to share.
An avenue lined with silver birch opened to her right and she followed it. Grand townhouses and small villas lay on either side beyond the double row of trees, and pigeons were pecking the dirt by the twisting roots. She saw her house in the distance, and sighed. She was going to have to brazen it out; there was no time for a tearful apology or some other act of contrition.
Halfway along the avenue, she noticed a stall selling flowers. She walked over to it, and took a look at the various blooms on offer. Some of the stock was old, and the selection was small compared to the summer months.
‘Can I help you, miss?’ said a voice.
She lifted her head, and glanced at the smiling young man behind the counter. He was a Reaper by his dress and accent, but was handsome nevertheless.
‘I’ll take a bouquet. Wrap the stems, but don’t bag it.’
‘Certainly, miss.’
‘Miss’, she thought. Not for much longer. She pointed out the flowers she wanted, and watched as the man made up the bouquet for her, trimming the excess leaves and cutting the stems to the same length. He wrapped the bottom in green paper and she handed over some silver coins.
‘Thank you, miss. You live round here?’
She smiled. ‘For another few hours.’
He raised an eyebrow as she took the bouquet and turned for home. She held the flowers close to her chest; they would be a useful distraction, she thought. How could you be angry with someone who was carrying a bunch of flowers?
She walked up the short pathway and pulled on the bell of her front door. She had keys in her purse, but it was out of reach round her back and she waited for a moment before the door swung open.
The Reaper servant stared open-mouthed at her for a second, then stood aside to allow Emily to enter the Omertia home.
‘Ma’am,’ she whispered as she bowed, ‘your mother is looking for you.’
Emily heard the sound of weeping coming from the sitting room to the left and she walked in. Several servants turned to stare. Her mother was in an armchair, tears streaming down her cheeks. She was oblivious to Emily’s presence for a moment, but then she noticed the glances of the servants and turned.
Her mother’s despair transformed to rage in an instant.
‘Where have you been?’ she cried, standing. ‘Are you trying to ruin us?’
Her father hurried into the room, his expression twisted with anger. Emily almost flinched from him, but steadied herself, her fingers clutching onto the flower stems. He approached until his face was only inches from hers.
‘Where were you, girl?’
‘I was at Grandma’s.’
‘What? You sneaked out of the house to visit her?’
‘I wanted to speak to her.’
‘Look at the state of your mother,’ he cried; ‘you wicked child. After everything she’s done for you, you would spoil the day she has been looking forward to for so long?’ He raised his hand, his fist clenched. ‘Ungrateful little witch.’
‘No,’ said Emily’s mother, ‘don’t strike her. What would the Aurelians think if she goes to them covered in bruises?’
Her father spluttered. ‘She must be punished.’
Her mother placed a restraining hand on her husband’s arm. ‘Not today. She knew we wouldn’t be able to touch her, which is why she did it. It’s her final act of rebellion.’
Her father pushed her hand away. ‘This is your fault, woman. You spoiled this girl, and look how she’s turned out; no respect, no humility. She mocks us and you say we should do nothing. At least after today I won’t have to listen to her pathetic bleating; how I wish I could say the same about you.’
He lashed out, striking his wife across the face with his open palm. As she cried out, Emily pushed her way between them, an arm raised to shield her mother.
‘No, father,’ she said.
He glared at them for a moment, then turned and strode from the room, the servants scattering to get out of his way. Emily’s mother sank into a chair, a hand on her face as she wept. Emily put an arm round her shoulder.
‘Leave him, mother,’ she whispered.
Her mother shoved her away. ‘This is your fault. You knew how he’d react and yet you went ahead and did it anyway. He was right; you are spoiled, and ungrateful. We’ve given you the best of everything the City has to offer; you live like a princess, and yet, on this day of all days, you choose to spite me. Why do you hate me? Sometimes I wish you’d never been born.’
Emily stood, straightened her back and nodded. She placed the bouquet of flowers onto the side table.
‘I’m going to get ready,’ she said, then left her mother weeping in the armchair.
Four servants had been assigned to help her prepare. After washing, she sat still in her underclothes in front of the mirror on her dresser while her long blonde hair was swept up and styled above her shoulders, and her make-up was applied. The servants, of course, said nothing about the shouting or her mother’s tears, but Emily knew they had all witnessed it.