Page 67 of A Fragile Enchantment

Rosa stood before her reflection, shrouded in black lace. A very tentative smile played on her lips. “I think you’ve outdone yourself.”

Niamh couldn’t help it. She rose onto her toes, feeling as though she could take flight with joy. “Thank you!”

“Saints,” Rosa muttered. “That was loud.”

“Sorry!”

“What on earth is going on in here?” The door to the adjoining suite swung open, and Miriam appeared. She froze where she stood, her lips slowly parting. “Oh! Rosa, you look absolutely stunning.”

Rosa’s entire demeanor changed at the compliment, and a light went out within her. She resumed her usual slouch, and her voice flattened. “We were just finishing up here. Shall we go and watch clouds?”

Miriam made a face. “I have sat idle far too much today. Why don’t we go shopping? If you are on your very best behavior, perhaps we can go to the palace, and I will ask someone to row us out to the center of the lake.”

Rosa’s eyes rekindled with interest. Niamh hurriedly began removing the pins from Rosa’s hair. When she succeeded in freeing the veil from her curls, she folded it carefully back into its box. “Have fun! I should go home and finish some work.”

Rosa clucked her tongue disapprovingly. “Give yourself a moment of respite. I mean no offense, but you look like you need one.”

“Yes! You should join us,” Miriam agreed warmly. “It is far too lovely a day to spend it inside.”

“While the point stands, I must disagree with your assessment,” Rosa said gravely. “It is far too bright to belovely.”

“How did you turn out this way?” Miriam asked despairingly. “Castilia is always sunny.”

“That is why I am moving here.” She gestured vaguely at her closet. “Borrow one of my umbrellas if you’d like, Miss O’Connor. You’ll burn to a crisp in this weather.”

That was how Niamh found herself walking the streets of Sootham with three of Rosa’s shopping bags around her arm and a black parasol in hand. While it blocked out the sun, it did little for the heat. Her gown clung uncomfortably to her skin, and sweat dripped down the back of her neck.

Miriam and Rosa walked arm in arm beside her, peering through the shop windows and chattering in an effortless mix of Castilian, Avlish, and a third language Niamh did not at all recognize. She laughed softly to herself. Out here, away from the eyes of the royal family, they bickered like young girls, utterly carefree.

When Rosa declared that she’d “surfeited on sunlight,” they stopped at an ice shop in the square. The confectioner—who immediately recognized Rosa—foisted three orange-dyed ices on them, each one molded into the shape of a perfect sphere. They even had a sprig of mint and a shaved-chocolate stem affixed to the top.

“How quaint,” said Rosa, in her bland, understated way. However, her dark eyes sparkled with genuine delight. “It tastes like home.”

What a bright and happy home it must have been: citrus and sweet cream, chocolate and the barest hint of rum. Niamh sighed in contentment. For a few minutes, only the burbling of the fountain filled the companionate silence between them.

But then the stares began.

Then the tittering.

People walked by withThe Daily Chronicletucked under their arms, others with their noses buried in it. Niamh’s stomach coiled tight with dread. Over the roaring of her heart, she caught only fragments of conversation.

“… the two of them together…”

“… the gall of it…”

“Do you think she knows?”

One woman stared at them for so long, she nearly tumbled headlong into the fountain.

Rosa let out a frustrated little sigh and patted her lips primly with a napkin. “I trust there is nothing on my face. Do I want to know what this is about?”

“Umm…” Niamh and Miriam said in unison.

“Great,” Rosa drawled. “I do love surprises.”

“Whatever they have written today,” Niamh blurted out, “I swear to you, it isn’t true.”

Miriam grimaced. Admittedly, she could have handled that better.