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That could mean only one thing.
“What have I told you all about eavesdropping?” my mother said as soon as she came in.
“Not to,” Devana responded.
“Then why were you?”
“Mama, we heard not a word, so it was more like spying,” Hathor said as she shifted to paint me once more.
“That also is unbecoming of a lady.” She huffed, and her brown eyes narrowed on them before they shifted to me. I stayed where I was, and she came to sit beside me, taking my hand. “My dear girl, you have suffered long.”
“She is not yet there, and might not ever be, if Papa has the last word,” Hathor interrupted.
My mother’s head whipped back to her. “At your age, do you not think it is fitting to mature?”
“No, for such maturity would be wasted, as Odite is the center of topics,” she grumbled. “She is now most likely going to get two offers this spring. And me? Did anyone notice it was meant to be my season?”
“How could we forget when you remind us daily.” My mother sighed. “And I promise you, my dear, once I am finished with your sister, you shall have my full and undivided attention, so do prepare yourself. Your time is coming.”
Hathor got up, abandoning her art. “I shall believe it when I see it. For now, I will go prepare for the ball.”
“Directly to your room, Hathor, for if you dare eavesdrop or spy, you shall join Abena,” my mother warned.
“Yes, yes. I know, the pots—”
“No more pots. She has gotten used to it, so she is now in the kitchen peeling onions!”
“Mama, that is cruel!” Hathor gasped. “Her hands will smell for days!”
“Yes, good thing she has nowhere to be. In your case, who will dance with a lady who smells like onions?” Our mother lifted her eyebrows.
Hathor’s eyes widened, and then she smiled. “Straight to my room, of course. Devana, come. You shall be my witness, for she believes you more than any of us.”
Devana took her hand, and both of them left the room. My mother shook her head before glancing back at me.
“You are mighty, Mama.” I smiled at her.
“You all trained me well.” She chuckled, squeezing my hands. “Worry not of your father. I shall wear him down.”
“Why is he so against it?” If Father did not support any engagement between Evander and me, it would break my heart, for how could I choose between my father and anyone else? “I thought he liked Evander.”
“He did—he does,” she assured, leaning closer. “He merely…worries.”
“About what?”
“Everything, but especially for you.” She cupped my cheek. “Everyone knows you are his favorite.”
“Papa says he has no favorites.”
“A Papa must say that, for it would cause mutiny amongst his children if he did not.”
“Well, if I am the favorite and I wish there to be an engagement, why not give me what I desire?”
“I love your father very much, and I believe him a cut above all men. In the end, he is still a man. And consequently, he believes himself able to see things we women do not.” She scoffed.
“What does Father think he sees?”
She opened her mouth and then closed it once again, shaking her head. “Do not worry. Everything will be well.”
