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“You know I don’t Natasha.” I said, confused. “I’ve told you that more times than I can count.” I shook my head, unsure why my best friend couldn’t remember the hours we’d spent discussing my predicament.
Her eyes were blank, and instead of any acknowledgment of what I’d said, she replied, “You mustn’t run away, Valeria. Promise me you won’t run away.”
She’d grown so thin over the months since the tragedy. Her skin pale, nearly gray, with dark circles under her hazel eyes. But, whenever I tried to talk to her about what had happened, it only upset her more, so I’d taken to leaving things be, hoping she would return to her old self in time.
I huffed, shaking my head. “Where would I run to?”
“You mustn’t. Petre Greengallow… He... I mean, he would...” She opened her palms, as if expecting me to know what she meant. And the worst of it was, now that I’d met him, I did know exactly what she meant.
“I know,” I said, letting out a deep sigh. “He’s not a good man. He’d hurt my family. Probably kill my father.”
She turned away, pulling a small pouch from beneath her mattress and gave me a wary glance then moved back to the door.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m…” She stammered, giving me a tight smile. “Studying. In the library for my Latin exam. You know I horrible at Latin.”
“Well, stay. I’ll help you…” I wanted so much to be with her. To have that safe place to cry and vent about what was about to happen in my life.
“No.” She snapped. “I need to learn it on my own. Just promise me you won’t run away,” she said, turning putting her hand on the handle of the door. “Please, Valeria.”
I shook my head. “I won’t. When will you be back?” I crossed to her, trying to put my arms around her for a hug, but she shrugged away, shaking her head.
“I have to go. Lock the door behind me,” she said, and a moment later the room was empty once again, just me and the knowledge that I was alone.
I did as she asked, wondering why she seemed so nervous. I found myself annoyed she couldn’t be bothered to be with her best friend at such a time.
In the room next to mine, I heard one of the other girls who boarded cough softly in her sleep. It was little Anna, tough as nails but always sickly.
Staring at the wall that adjoined her room, I thought about her, and how she’d told me all about her mysterious and fabulous aunt, who lived a life of luxury, moving freely from royal house to royal house around the world.
Anna said she was beautiful, interesting, and excellent company, so everybody was always glad to have her visit. She was unmarried, she had no children, and she did just as she pleased. She reminded me of a consort…a geisha in a way, except she was free. Desired, yet aloof. Which sounded pretty fantastic to me.
Especially right now.
Staring at myself in the mirror above my dresser, I wondered if maybe I could pull off a similar sort of life. I was pretty—at least enough, I thought.
I had my mother’s hair, wavy and layered in warm variants of light brown and golden streaks. I had my father’s eyes, the green of Prequean royalty he’d always said. I was full in my bosom and hips, very attractively so, from what others suggested.
I was somewhat sure I was at least somewhat interesting. I hoped. I could fence, I could ride, I could read tarot, knew the stars, played chess, and made my own clothes. I could bake bread and even helped raise the chickens here at school; I could read a little French and sing somewhat in tune.
My marks in my classes were always at the top of the scale. And I could even put a grown man into a fairly respectable choke hold. I was rather proud of that one, I had to admit.
If I wasn’t good company yet, I could learn to be.
The ray of hope at a life of freedom was quickly replaced by the sting of reality. If I did that, packed up my things in a midnight flit, and ran off to Wherever It Might Be, then what would happen to my father? What would happen to my mother?
Natasha was absolutely right. If I fled, they would bear the brunt of the Greengallow fury, and I had no doubt that Petre would take perverse pleasure in such revenge.
The idea of abandoning them made me slump down on my bed. I knew my mother loved my father, and vice versa. There was no question about that. And my father, despite all his life-upending faults, was a decent human being who I loved even when I most probably should not.
