Page 34 of Summer

“I can’t,” I reply.

“You can’t say it’s a mistake? Or you can’t do this?” Summer presses. I hate that she’s making me say it, that she’s forcing me to make a decision. “Say the word, but make sure you mean it.” She reaches a hand up to push a piece of hair behind my ear, and it’s all I can do not to melt into her touch. When I say nothing, she steps back, and I think I see disappointment on her face. But it’s gone just as quickly as it appears, and she looks more like a human woman that sits at the table with my parents. A bland smile, empty eyes, something to put on the mantle and look at.

I turn and flee the room before I give into the urge to shove her back onto the bed and crawl on top of her.

15

SUMMER

Aaoric teaches me to dance.

Well – he attempts to teach me to dance. Apparently, his time at Frihus was not spent keeping his skills sharp, because he is a poor dancer. He nearly stomps on my feet multiple times and isn’t skilled enough to realize it.

Sessaly stands in the corner and avoids watching us. I haven’t seen Gennelle in two days, except for at supper and breakfast, during which she doesn’t speak to me. Sessaly now accompanies me everywhere, making planning nearly impossible.

“Why is my sister not with you?” Aaoric asks, eyeing up Sessaly. She refuses to meet his gaze, instead staring at the floor like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. Her reaction confuses me – none of the other servants treat Aaoric this way. Most of them appear to like him, half of them don’t even call him by his rightful title unless his parents are around. The first time I heard one call him by his name I was sure they would be punished. Instead, he clapped them on the shoulder like they were good friends.

Meanwhile, the servants and attendants glare at me and refuse to speak to me.

“Did you do something to upset her?” Aaoric asks.

“Why would it be me doing something? Perhaps your sister did something to me, and she feels the upmost guilt over it?” I counter.

Aaoric scoffs. “My sister does not feel guilt. She is a decisive female, it’s why she’s such a good head of household.” He doesn’t try to keep quiet about his sister’s role in running the estates. My gaze darts toward Sessaly, but she makes no movement of surprise or agitation.

“Everyone feels guilt,” I counter.

“Not my sister – she is a different being all together. Whatever you’ve done to anger her, please apologize. Planning your escape is a headache without her input.”

Again, my gaze darts to Sessaly, whose head jerks up suddenly. I elbow Aaoric hard and reply, a little too loudly, “Don’t be silly – I’m not escaping. We are to be married in just a few weeks, as long as I survive this ball.”

The ball is in two days, and I have three more dances to learn. I have resolved not to, and plan to feign a horrific stomach bug during those dances. Aaoric seems to think he can teach me them and drill them to perfection between now and then.

Oh, to have the misplaced confidence of a rich male.

When the door to the room opens, I am grateful for a reprieve from Aaoric’s clumsy, nonsensical teachings. The duchess stands at the threshold, Gennelle just behind her. She avoids my gaze, looking instead to her brother. It lets me look her over, to see the exhaustion painted on her face.

“Aaoric, might I steal your fiancé?” the duchess asks sweetly.

“Of course,” Aaoric says, moving to the side of the room as the duchess sweeps in.

“Are the lessons going well?” she asks me.

“Splendidly, Aaoric is a wonderful teacher,” I lie. Gennelle glares at me, and I smile sweetly back at her.

“Is he?” the duchess asks, raising an eyebrow. Her gaze travels over my dress, and she sighs heavily. “We need a new gown for you and Gennelle for the ball. The viscountess conveniently forgot to mention her ball has a theme. What is this, the theatre?”

I titter a polite laugh, and the duchess softens. “You and Gennelle will head into Celvae today and get fitted for something more in tune with this theme.”

“I’m sure I have something that will work,” Gennelle protests.

“The theme is industry of Hothin. Pray tell, Gennelle, what dress do you have that would fit that atrocious theme?” the duchess says, giving Gennelle a withering look.

“Go, both of you – now,” the duchess waves her hand at us, ushering us toward the door to the carriage. Gennelle casts a look over her shoulder at Aaoric and Sessaly, trying to find some reason not to be alone with me in a carriage for nearly an hour. Finding none, she clamps her jaw shut and marches around me to the waiting carriage outside.

The attendant opens the door for her, and she slaps his hand away as she climbs into the carriage. I take his assistance and settle across from her in the carriage.

She avoids my gaze, staring out the window instead. The carriage lurches as it begins its journey to Celvae, nearly unseating me in the process. Silence stretches between us as she continues to pointedly ignore me.