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Dreams of Dust

Page 146

by Isabella Stofka

“I may truly need to consider getting a new guard,” Thicket said. “I fear your over protectiveness will be the death of me.” She bit her lip. “You were wrong earlier. When you said you hadn’t saved me. I heard what you said. While I was in the sleeping curse.” She grabbed his hand and intertwined her fingers with his. “You were the one I reached for. The one who gave me something to fight for when I was at my lowest.”

It had been him. It had always been him. She had never been alone. Not once. He had always been there, by her side, supporting her—uplifting her.

She had seen him once upon a dream. He hadn’t saved her, but had given her exactly what she needed to save herself.

Epilogue

Thicket moved slowly, careful not to step on the train of her dress. As promised, Lotta had fashioned her the most stunning gown she had ever seen.

The kind of gown meant for a queen.

Thicket could truly say that now, the memory of the gowns her mother had always worn for special occasions planted securely in her mind. It was strange, having two lives in her head, almost as strange as having different memories in a foreign world. She was glad to have them back, though. It would make the transition from normal girl, to Princess, to Queen easier with the knowledge of her kingdom’s history and customs. Not that she had told the Council. She was anticipating the look on their faces when she attended their next meeting knowing everything her tutors had drilled into her since she was a child. Maybe then, they would realize how foolish it was to underestimate her.

Thicket stopped outside the double doors leading to the throne room, heels sinking into the lush purple carpet running the length of the hall. Lotta fluffed out her train, making sure every fold of fabric was in place before adjusting the pins in her hair, which was tied into a braided knot at the back of her head. She had left a few curls loose to frame Thicket’s face and ripple down the nape of her neck.

A twinge of sadness crept into her chest. This would be the last time Lotta served her as a maid. Starting tomorrow, Thicket would be attended by her new maids—far more skilled than the ones from her first ball—and Lotta would depart for Sleeria to open her Atelier. Thicket, of course, would be a regular patron, but she would miss her friend’s presence.

“Are you ready, Your Highness?”

“Lotta,” Thicket reprimanded.

The corner of Lotta’s lips curled. “I wanted to say it one last time.” She dipped into a curtsey. “Thank you for everything you have done for me and for my family. It was an honor to serve you.”

Thicket drew her into her arms. Lotta stiffened. “Thicket, your dress—”

“Will survive a hug.” She let Lotta go reluctantly. “I am going to miss you.”

“What about me?” Bern strolled up. She looked gorgeous swathed in her glittering yellow dress, which somehow managed to make the mischievous spread of her lips even brighter.

“Like you are even going to have time to miss me while you are off seeing the world,” Thicket quipped.

“Of course I am!”

Thicket raised an eyebrow.

Her friend toyed with a loose strand of her bangs. “Well… it will hit me on occasion.”

Thicket laughed. “I expect lots of letters. And updates,” she said, sneaking a glance down the hall where Alouette waited. Like Bern, she was also clad in gold, only a far darker hue. It was as though Bern was the sunlight that showered the world and Alouette was the molten fire that could burn when provoked. Between the two of them, they made a formidable pair.

Alouette approached. “May I offer my early congratulations, Thicket. I look forward to our continued partnership and I do hope you will find the time to make it to my coronation in the near future.”

The way she said it almost sounded like a threat, as though she expected to be crowned far earlier than perhaps her father had planned.

“I will look forward to it.”

“Are you going to have enough goodbyes left for me?” Elian emerged from the hall next. He was as charming as always, only accentuated by the silver frames now propped against the bridge of his nose. Like Bern and Lotta, Elian would also be departing tomorrow morning. He had developed a few prototypes for vision glass, but they were still far from complete. He asked Lotta and her keen eye for fashion for her opinion and she had told him she would help him brainstorm styles and enchantments if he helped her open her shop.

“Always.” She hugged him fiercely. They had come so far. She would always care about Elian and would miss him terribly while he was in Sleeria, but her sorrow was blinded by the swell of happiness, knowing he, like her, had finally found his place.

Lotta yanked Elian away from Thicket, frowning at him. “You are going to wrinkle her dress.”

Elian held his hands up. “Sorry!”

Lotta smoothed the fabric, muttering under her breath.

“It's okay,” Thicket reassured. “Truly.” She grabbed Lotta’s hands. “Take good care of him, okay? Keep him out of trouble.”

Elian frowned, offended. “Isn’t that something you are supposed to ask the guy?”