Marion Thorne
Faith Fairchild might really be the death of me.
“Psst, Marion,” she whispers on our turn around the palace grounds.
Before I can protest, she’s pulling me by the crook of my arm into the glass walls of the orangery. Ivy Benton’s little stunt with Prince Bram might have been insufferable, but at least it got Viscountess Bolingbroke off our backs for a little while.
Faith is panting, her cheeks flush with exertion. Her chestnut hair is braided in a crown up on her head, but it’s humid today, and little wisps are curling around her ears.
She runs a tongue over her full bottom lip and— “Marion,” she says more harshly, and I blink back to myself. Get a grip.
“There was something I wanted to speak about with you,” she says.
Anything, I nearly say, but that would be silly, so I just nod.
“Would you mind if I swapped rooms with Olive?”
I blink a few times. “Swapped rooms?”
“Yes, so you and I can share.” Faith exhales. “I can hardly stand to look at Ivy. I know she’s been sneaking off with Emmett, and after that stunt with Bram, I’m even more tempted to smother her in her sleep. It’s really for everyone’s safety. I don’t think Olive would mind moving across the hall, and then I could take her spot with you.”
I laugh at her joke, but it comes out hollow. It’s about Emmett, of course.
I should have seen this coming. I was so stupid to assume anything else.
Faith confessed her history with Emmett to me our second night in the cottage. I was outside watching the sunset in the rose garden when she stomped out and said something under her breath about longing for some air.
I stole two flutes and a dusty bottle of something from the kitchen and settled down with her on an old stone bench that was crawling with moss.
“You look like you need someone to spill your guts to,” I said. And she did. I wasn’t lying, but I also wasn’t about to pass up the chance to be close to her.
Since the moment I first spotted her in profile the morning of the Pact Parade,
I was . . . enamored. Yes, that’s a word. Let’s go with enamored. She felt so familiar to me, like there was a string tied directly to my heart, and every time I saw her face, an invisible force tugged at it.
“I thought I could love him,” she explained that night in the garden. “That feels silly now.”
“I don’t think love is ever silly,” I replied.
“Is that why you’re here?” she asked. “Because you think you could love Bram?”
“Oh no,” I answered honestly. It was quite the opposite, though I didn’tace grounds. tell her then.nto the glass “Is that why you’re here,” I asked her in turn. “For revenge?”m might have She sighed, like the weight of the world was pressing down on her narrowoff our backs shoulders, and shook her head. “No, Emmett doesn’t love me like that. I couldn’t get that kind of reaction out of him if I tried.”stnut hair is “You could have fooled me.”ttle wisps are “What Emmett and I had . . . it’s hard to explain. We needed each other.”
That I understood, at least a little. “If you’re not here for Emmett, then why?”
Faith worried her lip again, I was afraid she’d draw blood and I’d be forced to do something chivalrous, like produce a clean hanky and dab at the wound.
“My father told me I had to enter the season, and I didn’t want to leave anything to chance. My father would have made me accept the first offer thatstand to look came my way just to make me not his problem anymore. I figured Bram washat stunt with my best option. What a cliché, right?”t’s really for “I think you’re more than a cliché,” I said, too honest.ross the hall, Faith smiled. I wanted to keep making her smile. “You might be the only one who does.”ett, of course.
I thought I was so clever when I signed up for the competition for the prince’s hand. The subject of my match has been a conversation at thenight in the Thorne family dinner table for as long as I’ve been alive.en when she Queen Mor’s England is deeply isolated from the rest of the world. Other than tightly regulated, necessary economic trade, there is functionally nokitchen and contact with the outside world. It’s said that on a sunny day in Dover, youg with moss. can see all the way to France. The light is supposed to be beautiful as itAnd she did. I reflects off the remnants of the wall they built four hundred years ago to keepclose to her.
Mor out.Pact Parade,
d. She felt soEvery country seems to have its own explanation for Queen Mor and her eternal rule. Angel or demon, depending on who you ask. To my father’srt, and every people, she was a monster. There was no other reasonable explanation for a woman who lived forever. You don’t go into the forest on Thursdays, andgarden. “That you certainly don’t leave your home to sail to England. But as my father tells it, drought had dried up his family’s land in Ghana, and he was out of options. So he boarded a boat with others who believed that demons were theou could love stuff of myth, and he crossed an unfriendly ocean.
Per the Royal Decree of 1597, all who are brave enough to make aough I didn’t bargain with Queen Mor are made citizens.
He was just eighteen when he knelt in front of her and bargained for one hundred bolts of fabric and a sewing machine.on her narrow Within the year, he’d become the most sought-after tailor on Savile Row.e like that. I A year after that, he used his profits to open a department store. He now controls half of London’s shopping district in the West End. He changed his last name from Agyapong to Thorne, like slipping on a new coat that he didn’t like half as well as the last one.Emmett, then Queen Mor took from him the ability to dream. He once told me that if he could dream, he’d dream of home.d and I’d be An incredible storyteller and ruthless businessman, he quickly became and dab at the favorite at court, and the queen granted him a dukedom in less time than it took to buy his first two-story storefront.want to leave The summer he turned twenty-three, he met my mother, a prim andirst offer that proper English girl who grew up on an estate near Cornwall, and they wereed Bram was wed two months later. I came along the following winter, and the scheming began immediately. He might have been a duke, but he hadn’t been one for long, and he knew he needed to secure his family’s legacy. That meantht be the only marriage. That meant me.
My future always felt like a pit filling with sand. There was nothing Itition for the could do to stop it. I stitched samplers that said nice things about being a niceat the girl. I learned to play the pianoforte, became a wizard at whist, and could identify all the plants growing on the edge of the forest that bordered ourworld. Other family’s estate.nctionally no My little sister, Este, was my shadow, my partner. Our governess andn Dover, you tutors drilled us like little soldiers, and by ten and twelve we could plan aeautiful as it banquet, balance a household’s budget, and dance a perfect quadrille.to keep We were good girls, so we could become perfect wives.
Mor and herAfter our lessons, I had to go for long walks to cool myself off, until I my father’sstopped feeling like I needed to claw my way out of my own skin. anation for aWhen I was fifteen, I kissed a girl for the first time at Lady Richfield’s hursdays, andspring equinox tea party, and then I threw up in a hydrangea bush. Penny my father tellsRichfield was two years older than me, and she blushed when our hands was out ofbrushed over the clotted cream. She married the second son of a viscount last mons were thefall and now pretends not to know who I am.
My future became a grave filling up with dirt. h to make aI made everyone laugh at every event of the social season. I dreamed about hopping on a boat to Accra, finding my father’s family, and building a ained for onelife different from this one.
But I couldn’t break my parents’ or Este’s hearts like that, so I shoved Savile Row.everything real about me deep down to a place that was hard to reach. ore. He nowI put on my Pact Parade gown like I was dressing for my own funeral. e changed hisBut then Queen Mor announced that this was the season Bram would take coat that hea wife.
The plan popped into my head with the weight of inevitability. I would me that if heenter. I would lose. And then I would be free.
Signing that contract in blood was the easiest thing I’ve ever done. kly became aNo husband. Oh boo-hoo. I’ll find some way to carry on. time than itI’ve only lost sleep at night over the reaction of my parents. They’ve fought so hard for the life they’ve given to my sister and me, the last thing I a prim andwant to do is let them down. I can’t bear it. But I’ll find some way to spin the nd they weretragic tale of my failure when it comes to telling my family. We could all still the schemingcome out of this winning. been one forIt’s why I still worked so hard at the May Queen competition. I had to That meantmake it look like I was trying.
There’s absolutely no way Bram is going to pick me. I’m not trying at all was nothing Inow, but they don’t need to know that. t being a niceThey also don’t need to know about my bargain. The story I made up for st, and couldthe other girls about the headaches are real. I’ve been plagued with them for bordered ouras long as I can remember, but that’s not the bargain I made.
When Queen Mor asked me what my greatest fear was, I looked her right overness andin the eye and said, “Living a life as small as this forever. If I have to could plan aembroider one more cushion, I’m going to throw myself into the Thames.”
She laughed, and it made me strangely proud.
When I asked her to make me a great writer, her face turned serious. “I
lf off, until Ican do that. For a price.”
“I understand.” I could picture it so clearly, the life I would have when all y Richfield’sthis was over. bush. PennyWhat she took from me in return was so strange, I didn’t completely en our handsunderstand it in the moment. In fact, I only barely understand it now. But I viscount lastfill my notebooks with sonnets and novels that flow out of me like water, and I don’t think about what I lost at all.
The only thing that causes me to ache now is looking at Faith Fairchild. n. I dreamed“Marion?” Faith prompts, and I come back to myself, back to the nd building aorangery, where she’s standing in front of me with that face.
“So, room swap?” she asks. so I shoved“Anything,” I reply, again too honest.
“Fabulous. I’ll move my things into your room tonight. You’re sure Olive won’t mind?” m would take“She’s an angel. Ivy will have to tolerate sleeping with a lamp on, but it’s really not so bad.” ility. I would“Done.” Faith extends her hand and I take it in mine.
“Done,” I agree.
nts. They’ve
e last thing I
ay to spin the could all still
ion. I had to
t trying at all
made up for with them for
ked her right If I have to
ed serious. “I
can do that. For a price.”
“I understand.” I could picture it so clearly, the life I would have when all this was over.
What she took from me in return was so strange, I didn’t completely understand it in the moment. In fact, I only barely understand it now. But I fill my notebooks with sonnets and novels that flow out of me like water, and I don’t think about what I lost at all.
The only thing that causes me to ache now is looking at Faith Fairchild.
“Marion?” Faith prompts, and I come back to myself, back to the orangery, where she’s standing in front of me with that face.
“So, room swap?” she asks.
“Anything,” I reply, again too honest.
“Fabulous. I’ll move my things into your room tonight. You’re sure Olive won’t mind?”
“She’s an angel. Ivy will have to tolerate sleeping with a lamp on, but it’s really not so bad.”
“Done.” Faith extends her hand and I take it in mine.
“Done,” I agree.
