“I heard it was because the girl was fae, that’s why he didn’t marry her.”
“Ach! Nothing is as bad as the loss of Prince Vincent’s fiancée. Broke his heart. No wonder he disappeared.”
“I heard he died,” the tailored gent spoke up.
“Bad luck! I say. The whole thing is going to end in disaster. Mark my words, the betrothal will be marked with blood and death.” The man waved his optical around in challenge.
The table became quiet, and no one protested.
“Now, now, gentleman. Enough with the gossip. Let’s get back to the matter at hand. The odds. Let’s start with the easy favorites. Five to one on the duchy of Dorcille’s girl, Adelle. Ten to one on the guild merchant’s daughter,” a commanding voice cut through the chatter. The man with the top hat.
“I’m putting it all down on the miller’s daughter. Have you seen her, Chamberlain?” A low whistle from Bishop’s lips followed his endorsement.
“Yes, that’s true, but the first night is always a masquerade,” the one with his back to me stated.
“So? Are you saying that beauty won’t win? How do you think the prince will pick his new wife if not by looks?” Bishop asked.
“I will let you in on a little secret, gentleman. The first night is always masquerade ball designed to flaunt wealth via their costumes. Don’t expect any of the ladies with little money to their name to make it till morning. They will be escorted out the door before midnight,” the man I couldn’t see replied.
“No? Then why the masks?” Chamberlain asked.
“It’s to make sure that the prince doesn’t fall for a pretty face over a fat purse.” Bishop chuckled.
“Ah, yes. I see now. What about the daughter of Duchovny?” the man with the pipe asked.
“Not coming. The father deemed her too young to marry at this time.”
Caught up in the gossip and the betting surrounding tomorrow’s masquerade ball, my mind swirled with newfound information. I quickly learned who the top favorites were to win the prince’s heart, who was broke and going to try and win the crown through deception, and who were the natural beauties that had little to offer other than their looks.
But as I stood outside the curtain listening to the intrigue, I knew that without some unnatural help, I would never make it through the first night, much less the second night of the ball. My hand brushed an invisible fleck of dirt from my silk skirt, and as my confidence dropped, so did my glamour and the dress flickered.
If I lost control of my emotions, I wouldn’t be able to keep a glamour over my clothes, and how could I possibly compete with the daughters of the rich nobles?
So preoccupied in my thoughts, I didn’t see the curtain move until Dorian stepped right into my path, his shoulder knocking into me, causing me to stumble. He reached out to catch my elbow to steady me but immediately let go once I was set aright, not even sparing me a look.
I frowned at being put aside so easily. Dorian was looking for someone, and I followed at a distance as he caught up with Madam Pantalonne as she was heading up the stairs.
“Madam, may I so much as trouble you for the name of the young lady you had escorted up to your room earlier?”
I hid my eagerness and turned my back to begin clearing the table next to them. He was asking about me.
“Why, Dorian, were you unable to whisk her name from her with all of your charm? That would be a first,” she teased.
“Yes, sadly the little sparrow has evaded my capture.”
“And your claws.” Her voice grew wary. “I may turn a blind eye to your charades and games, Dorian, and never do I speak up when you romance your way through my ladies, but I swear you will leave this poor girl alone.”
My tray was full, but I wasn’t ready to leave. Very carefully, I put the glasses back on the table and began to clear them again. Keeping my back to them, I listened eagerly.
“Madam, I—”
“No, Dorian. I will not tell you her name. I can’t. I didn’t ask her, or have you forgotten what kind of establishment this is? People come here to be left alone. I respect their privacy. You should too.”
I wanted to clap, shout, and hug Madam Pantalonne, for she was a champion of women and underdogs.
“Besides, she will leave soon enough. She didn’t have many possessions and will not make it past the first night, and you will not swoop in when she is culled. Spare her from being one of your many trophies.”
I frowned.
Even the madam had little faith in me, that I would make it through the event. Painful tears burned at the corners of my eyes, and I felt like I was back home, being passed over time and time again in favor of my younger, more talented sisters.
“Go home, Dorian,” Madam commanded. “Or have you forgotten about Sisa already?”
“But—”
“Go!” She pointed to the door.
Dorian seemed on the verge of arguing with the pink-haired woman, but he gathered his cloak about his shoulders and headed into the night. I watched him step out the front door.
Sisa? Who was Sisa? His wife? A lover? A dark storm cloud gathered over my emotions as I once again realized how foolish and naive I was. Even here, far away from my family, no one believed in me. Total strangers didn’t believe in me. But it only fueled my determination.
I had come to avenge my parents, but maybe, just maybe I would steal a throne while I was at it.
Chapter Six
The light came streaming in the window, burning the back of my eyelids. In my tower room at home, it was dark and dismal. My windows faced west, so it was always dark and dreary in the mornings. I hated this bright wakeup call. Maybe I’d think about asking for a different room. Maybe they had one in the cellar. I sat up, and my head hurt so much that I fell back onto the pillow.
After a full mark, I dragged myself out of bed, pulled out my satchel, and dug through it, scrounging for something to eat. I found a packet of nuts and a few stale crackers wrapped in butcher paper.
I could work with that. Changing the flavor of something was easy to do. If I could just remember the right spell. I drew a sigil over the crackers, feeling triumphant that I was going to have cake for breakfast. I popped it in my mouth and chewed slowly, savoring the… burning. Holy stars above!
Pfffft. The crackers flew from my mouth, scattering across the bed and onto the floor. “Ah, ah, ah.” I panted as I tried to wipe the cracker from my tongue.
It was inedible.
I turned the cracker into a peddler pepper. My eyes burned, and I began to cough. I looked back at the purse, wishing I had something to wash it down with, like a normal plain cracker. Nope. Wasn’t going to try that again. My powers useless, I grabbed the nuts and slowly chewed each one of them. The more I focused on the nuts, the less my tongue burned from the pepper.
After a few minutes, I opened the small case and looked through my sparse clothes. I put on a sensible skirt with leggings, a long jacket, and boots. After braiding my hair over my shoulder, I gave myself a cursory glance in the mirror. It would do. Before I left, I drew another sigil over the door—a “do not disturb” one that made others stay clear of my room.
Walking down the stairs, I saw an unattended tray of fruit on a side table. I nabbed a few and placed them in my bag before heading out into the street. Once I had made my way around the block, I took a bite out of the apple and spit it out. What was wrong with people? Who would turn their fruit into wax? I quickly inspected the pear and saw that it was spelled the same way. Disgusted, I tossed both into the nearest trash bin and grumbled my way back to the main square as I headed toward the palace.