Emmy Ito
Marion and Faith are in the garden, Greer is holding vigil by Ivy’s bedside, Olive is in the kitchen, and my hair has never looked worse.
I swear my lady’s maid must hate me. Tonight I’m having dinner with Prince Bram, my reward for winning that blasted hedge maze—a meal, alone, with him, and I look like a poodle.
My maid used a curling rod on my front pieces and they’re dangling in front of my eyes like little springs. I swipe them away, frustrated, fold my fashion periodical, and pad across the cottage to see what Olive is doing in
the kitchen.
“You’ve got flour in your hair,” I say.
She wipes it away, leaving a streak of white across her face.
I gesture at the rising dough by the hearth. “You’re going to bury us in brioche.”
“Poor Bram, then he’d have to die alone.”
The reminder of his immortality always makes me feel sick, but I laugh anyway because it’s Olive, and she smiles so big when I do.
I lean my elbow on the counter. “Be honest, do I look ridiculous?”
Olive taps flour out over the butcher-block counter as she considers.
“You look like a very fancy dog.”
“Rude!”
“I said a fancy one!” She wipes her hands on her apron. “Come here.”
She cranks the spout and wets a towel to run over the front pieces of my hair, smoothing out the horrible curls. She then rearranges the pins. “Much better.”
There’s a knock on the front door, and together we run to get it. Bram has come alone, wearing a burgundy waistcoat, his cravat in a ruffle, his face as perfect as always. He bows his head at us. “Lady Ito, you look lovely.”
“I did her hair!” Olive exclaims, but I’ve already slammed the door behind us.
He leads me up a path, along the gentle hill that winds around the palace.
“I hope you don’t mind I’ve arranged for dinner in the orangery tonight.”
I’m startled by the sound of footsteps behind us and turn to see an old woman in a horribly out-of-fashion dress following us.
“Our chaperone for the evening,” Bram explains. “I am committed to propriety, but thought you might like to be rid of Bolingbroke for the evening. The Countess of Tribley is one of my school chum’s great-aunts.
She’s really good fun, a hell of a cardplayer, but half-deaf, so I figured she’d do perfectly well.”
I laugh and wave to the old woman, who waves back.vy’s bedside, The orangery is covered in one thousand votive candles that flicker against the glass walls in the dark.g dinner with There’s a table set with candlesticks, silver, and a white tablecloth undermeal, alone, one of the orange trees. I’m not one for grand gestures, but it really is lovely,
even I have to admit. e dangling in Countess Tribley takes an armchair in the corner and pulls out herated, fold my
knitting. e is doing in Bram is an attentive listener. He asks all the right questions. How many siblings (four brothers, I’m right in the middle). My interests (reading, the pianoforte, painting). What my hopes for the future are (travel).
“Travel?” He looks taken aback. “Like, to the sea?”to bury us in “Across it,” I answer too boldly.
I never wanted to marry, not like the other girls. It’s ironic, I suppose, that my great-grandparents risked everything crossing an ocean to come to thisk, but I laugh country and I’ve spent my whole life longing to leave it. I was never going to be able to do that with a husband by my side and an estate to run.
I didn’t plan on being a wife. I planned on being a painter, or a pirate, or a
he considers. poet.
That’s the thing about girls like Marion and me, who were raised on stories about lands ruled by humans and not by a faerie queen. We know just
Come here.”
how wide the rest of the world is. es of my hair, I should have ducked out of the May Queen competition early, but as Much better.” usual, my pride got the best of me. I spotted my father in the audience and it. Bram has remembered the lecture he’d given me over and over again in my youth.e, his face as Whatever you do, try your best. It would have broken his heart to see me fail on purpose, and he would have been able to tell. I know he would have.med the door Bram’s face lights up. “I’ve seen so little of the human world. I dream of
seeing more.” nd the palace.
I’m surprised to hear him say something in direct contradiction to his
to see an oldmother’s strict isolationist policies.
I tell him what my grandparents said about Kyoto, the winding streets and committed todamp, hot summers. He’s alarmingly pretty as he listens, his perfect jawline for thecradled in his hand. s great-aunts.When I’m finished, he gestures at the beaded handbag I placed on the
figured she’dtable.
“What’s in there?” he asks.
I pretend to be offended. “It’s rather rude to ask a lady what’s in her that flickerhandbag.”
“But you’re not a typical lady. Is it money for passage? Are you leaving lecloth underme so soon?” he jokes. ally is lovely,I take the bag and pull out the worn deck of tarot cards my governess gave me for my thirteenth birthday. I was worried we might have nothing to pulls out hertalk about, and the cards are good for conversation. It’s easier than talking about myself. s. How many“Will you read for me?” he asks. “We have oracles in my homeland, but (reading, thethey live mostly in trees and caves. I much prefer your company.”
I pass him the deck and have him shuffle, then pull a card. The devil smiles up at us from the table. Bram tuts his tongue. “Oh, I don’t like the look of him.” suppose, thatMy heart stutters in my chest, the affection I feel for Bram catching me come to thisoff my guard. “It means someone is going to betray you.” ever going toA look of worry flashes across his face, but he replaces it just as fast with that kind smile. “You now.” a pirate, or aI don’t need to bother, it’ll be the same card it’s been for months now. No matter how many times I shuffle, it’s always the same. The world. ere raised on“What does that mean?” he asks after I draw the card.
We know justIt means I’m going to leave. “That I can have everything I want, if only I’m brave enough to take it.” Looking at Bram in the flickering candlelight, early, but asI’m struck with the feeling that for the first time, I may have something I audience andwant to stay for. n my youth.Countess Tribley is napping in her armchair, so Bram walks me back to o see me failthe cottage alone.
He leaves me at the front door with a gentle kiss to my hand. I suddenly d. I dream ofunderstand what people mean when they say something has given them butterflies. There’s a riot of them in my stomach. “It’s been a pleasure, Lady diction to hisIto.”
“For me as well,” I say, and I’m surprised to find I mean it. ng streets andHe turns just in time to miss the flash of movement from the side door, erfect jawlinebut I see it: his brother, sneaking out of the cottage and fleeing into the night.
placed on the
what’s in her
e you leaving
my governess
ve nothing to than talking
omeland, but
rd. The devil like the look
catching me
t as fast with
nths now. No
want, if only
g candlelight, something I
s me back to
d. I suddenly
given them leasure, Lady
“For me as well,” I say, and I’m surprised to find I mean it.
He turns just in time to miss the flash of movement from the side door, but I see it: his brother, sneaking out of the cottage and fleeing into the night.
