Her lips curved into a sad smile, her beautiful almond-shaped eyes glittering with understanding.
“There is no need for an apology, Miss Ellowyn. We are allowed to feel, allowed disappointment and frustration. Your station in life doesn’t change that.”
I nodded and wrung my hands together, choosing to look anywhere but at Kana.
Her calloused fingers gripped my chin lightly and directed my gaze back to her.
“May I give you some advice?” Her expression was open and hopeful, and I nodded in assent.
“Sometimes life isn’t what we want it to be. Sometimes life is simply thrust upon us, and we’re told to make the best of it, even when we feel like we’re unheard and drowning.” Her words were soft and cajoling as she gently stroked my hair and face. I received more care and love from Kana in these few moments than throughout my entire life from my mother. The thought caused a new wave of tears to splash on my face; tears that Kana simply continued to wipe away, never once reprimanding me for showing emotion in public or smudging my makeup.
“And yes, we do have to make the best of it, because that’s just life. But that doesn’t mean you have to simply grit your teeth and bear it. Carve out a piece for you, instead, in the muddy waters of your life. Your mother and father insist on a loveless marriage for political gain? Pick a weird question to ask each suitor. Forced to have lunch with thatdreadfulDria?” I gave a wet giggle at her description. “Stare at her forehead the whole time, make her think she has something stuck.” I gasped and Kana winked. “The point is, Ellowyn, that while we will not always get what we want, we have to find what we want within the circumstances given to us.”
She wiped the last of my tears and I stared at her for a moment before clasping my hands over hers.
“Thank you, Kana,” I whispered. “I think I can do that.”
Kana gave me a dazzling smile and gestured for me to turn around. “Then let’s show her, make her think you love it.” She winked at me before pulling back the curtain.
My mother, as expected, was enamored with the gown. I simply locked my thoughts and feelings away into the box in my mind, going through the motions to get through the appointment. I caught Dria out of the corner of my eye doing a horrid job stifling a laugh at my expense.
Yeah, the dress was bad.
The appointment seemed to last an eternity, but, once it was finally over, my mother ushered me out onto the sidewalk, insisting we needed tea and small bites for lunch, a trip I was happy to oblige, especially after that disaster of a dress fitting and lack of breakfast this morning.
My mother slipped her arm through mine, chatting aimlessly about nothing as we walked down the street.
“Smile, dear,” she said through her teeth. “People are watching.”
I plastered on a fake smile and continued walking toward the lunch shop my mother had in mind. As we approached the shop, we heard a commotion coming from one of the row houses that framed the little lunch spot.
Shouts and the sound of breaking glass were easily detected as we approached. Our guards quickly pulled us back from a growing crowd outside the row house.
There was a cacophony of shouts and exclamations as a scuffle inside one of the homes was brought outside onto the stone-paved streets. Two Mages from Vespera—contracted by Lord d’Refan for Hestin’s use—gripped a bleeding man between them. He was exceptionally tall and lanky with a shock of white-blonde hair and blue eyes so light they were almost white.
I sucked in a sharp gasp.
The man lookedsomuch like Jarius that, for a moment, I thought it was him.
A second quick inspection, however, showed that this particular man was considerably younger than Jarius. I let out a breath, but my relief was short-lived, and my stomach clenched once more as the Mages tossed the man into the street.
He threw his arms out but was too delayed to catch himself.
His face smacked against the stones with an audiblecrunch, his bodyflopping uselessly. The man groaned and curled onto his side, blood running freely from his freshly broken nose and from a variety of scrapes on his face.
The two Mages approached the prostrate man while a few others held back the ever-growing crowd by way of an Air Shield. A few bystanders pounded uselessly against the shield, yelling obscenities at the Mages who were now circling the man like prey.
“He’s innocent!”
“Just a boy!”
“Let him live, he wasn’t harming no one!”
The shouts were growing increasingly angrier, and my mother gripped my arm so tightly her nails bit into my skin.
Neither of us noticed, however, our attention was entirely on the man on the ground.
“What’s happening?” I whispered to no one in particular.
