I wanted to tell her that I already had, already tried, only to be pushed away. And although his letters showed a different side—the tender, vulnerable side I’d seldom glimpsed during our summer together—I still hesitated to seek him out after the deep wounds he’d inflicted on me. Wounds a polite kiss could not cure.
And so I brushed aside their arguments and attempted to ignore the tangled knot of hurt and longing the prince had left inside me.
When the day of Prince Theodore’s birthday ball arrived, Iwanted nothing more than to stay home and shut myself in, but Master Carter found it unacceptable.
“You might not be a textile mage, but you are still incredibly talented in clothwork,” he lectured. “Half the ladies in this city are scrambling for a seamstress, and you are one of the most resourceful mages I know. You’re just going to let this opportunity for coin and practice pass you by?”
“I cannot make gowns out of thin air.”
His eyes sparkled. “Dear, you don’t know what you can’t do. Try. Have fun, make some money. And mind your thread.”
I bristled at his reproach. But I also listened, setting up a stand in the marketplace. Enough commoners knew of my abilities that many stopped and chattered, passing on gossip.
And despite myself, I thought about what Thomas had told me, about Teddy hoping Ella would come…
Sometimes I hated being me.
I always had to get involved.
The castle came into view as Ella’s neighbor, Mr. Brook, drove the carriage and horses. It jostled to a stop and we stepped out, our slippers caked in mud kicked up by the hundreds of visitors to the prince’s ball. I practically carried Ella as we limped indoors, her ankle swollen and possibly broken from a perilous evening.
My breath caught at the palace’s transformation.
The entire foyer and ballroom were bathed in warm candlelight as commoners and nobles alike brushed shoulders, twirled, and gossiped, all hidden behind masks for a single evening whenanyone could be anything.
With a bit of encouragement, I sent Ella away into the ballroom, wishing her the best of luck with Prince Theodore. Thom’s tall figure lingered beyond the edge of the crowd.
He’d want to see me.
But about what? Asha? He’d saved her twice now. And what had I ever done for him?
About the letters? My cheeks still heated at the thought of them. I’d carried his letter from Pa’abo ever since reading it. My fingers brushed against the parchment peeking from my dress’s pocket.
But what could I possibly say to him? I still wasn’t quite sure what to feel about him. He’d written beautiful words, but he’d also broken my heart a year ago.
Yours, if only you would still have me,he’d written.
I exhaled. Who was I kidding? I knew how I felt about him. I still liked him—maybe even loved him.
But I wasn’t going to tell him that. At least, not now.
I wove my way back through the crowd, hesitating at the sight of a familiar figure who stood watching me.
“Lee?” I asked.
His fingers adjusted a mask with slitted eyeholes and a fox-like shape. “Miss Smyth, isn’t it?”
I smiled. “You remembered. It’s been quite a while since I’ve seen you.”
“Life is busy for a soon-to-be master,” he said with a shrug.
“How is your treatise going?” I asked.
His mouth twitched. “Fine.”
“Are you almost finished—”
“I heard about your niece,” he interrupted. “My sincerest apologies.”
