Page 67 of The Starling and the Hatter

I wanted a love that bloomed and changed year round. I wanted love that started as lush green and then turned into stunning orange and red before settling into quiet white and calm brown, and then bursting forth in bright green buds. I wanted clear streams and rivers to flow through my love. I wanted shade and dappled sunlight, the quiet, constant chirping of birds and the hush of snowfall. I wanted a love that was alive, one where I could live topside, being entirely myself, as Garnet had advised me to do. Not one where I had to go crawling into rabbit holes and foxes’ dens chasing after a man who was never content with the moment he was living in.

“You’re welcome to wait for him here,” Marshall offered, pulling me from my swirling hopes. “He’s been coming back to check on me throughout the day, afraid I can’t run my own business.”

I smiled, knowing full well how much ownership Hatcher felt for the business. He cared deeply about its success, not only because he wanted to please his father and make him proud, but because he was building a life for himself.

“Thank you. That’s a good idea. I’ll go ahead and sing out front if you don’t mind.”

He grinned. “It’s what I was hoping for.”

I used the back corner of the tent to change into my Starling apparel, then planted myself at the outside corner of the tent and started singing.

As usual, I sank into the songs. They soothed my nerves and made the time pass more quickly, though I still scanned the crowds continually, looking for Hatcher, trying to keep the butterflies in my stomach from rioting too much.

I was on my seventh song and had collected four bits and one copper when I spotted him. His steps were hurried and he was trying to look above the heads of the crowd, clearly looking for something.

And then his eyes fell on me.

My heart melted, because by the way he smiled, his eyes lighting up, I knew that I was the thing he had been looking for. He’d heard my voice and come to find me.

A grin split my own face, which was bad timing since I was in the middle of a song about the angry words spoken between a bridge troll and the river he lived in. I kept singing, trying to get my expression to fit the song instead of the frantic excitement of my heart.

Hatcher smirked, happy to have caught me messing up a song, and on his behalf, no less. His strides were long and he continued, but less hurried. The ridiculous, fanciful side of me imagined him sweeping me into his arms and kissing me deeply the moment he reached me.

Oh, please let my ridiculous fantasy come true, I begged the heavens.

But then Hatcher’s gaze shifted, and whatever had caught his eyes transformed his face into surprise and stopped his feet. He stood still and gaped.

My gaze shot to my right, searching for whatever had surprised him.

My voice followed the example of Hatcher’s feet and stopped suddenly, the notes fading quickly amongst the excited whispers of the surrounding crowd.

The couple entering the clearing in front of the tent, trailed by guards and arrayed in the grandest of fabrics and finery, could be none other than the Duke and Duchess of Winberg.

“Please,” the duchess said, drawing closer with regal steps. “Do not stop on our account. I was enjoying your performance.”

Nerves and excitement shot through me. The Sovereign Duchess of Winberg had just declared to a very large audience that she was enjoying my performance. Maybe she wasn’t so hard to please after all.

Maddox

Shock was written on Elise’s face. The duke and duchess had taken us all by surprise. Though I was familiar with the tradition of Their Graces hand-picking performers to join their banquet, I’d never actually been present for it. We didn’t normally set up our tent so close to the performers, so this was new to me.

Elise looked completely frozen. I wished there was something I could do, but I dared not infringe on the moment.

I saw the smooth column on her throat convulse as she swallowed.

“Go on then, songbird,” the duchess prompted in a tone that was almost kind, but not quite. “Finish your song.”

Elise’s hands quivered at her sides, but she stood up straight and took a deep breath. Her voice cracked on two notes when she sang the first phrase, her eyes pinching in frustration with each one. But she continued, and soon enough, her natural confidence returned and she was able to sing with her usual enchanting air.

I let her voice wash over me, grateful just to know she was here and she was well. I’d been driven to distraction, afraid her rash decision to chase after White had led her to harm, afraid she would find what she was looking for and decide to stay with him.

But she was here now. She’d come back. And as I watched her sing for the duke and duchess, immense pride filled me, puffing up my chest and making me want to take her hand and show her off to everyone.

She finished the song with her usual gusto and flair. There was fire in her eyes, and her heaving chest testified to the exertion required for such a passionate performance.

Everyone clapped, including the duchess. And when the applause had quieted, Her Grace turned to her husband. “I like this one,” she said, then turned back to Elise. “You will come with us,” she declared before resuming her walk, her hand resting regally on the arm of her husband.

Elise looked stunned, but in a good way. One of the liveried servants approached Elise, no doubt to make sure that she obeyed the duchess’s directive and made her way to the palace.