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“I did.” He lifts his chin, meeting my gaze with defiance. “I looked into the matter and sought out the Vances’ former designers. Turns out you weren’t the only one Mr. Vance victimized, and I wasn’t about to let that slide.”
My mouth falls open as shock ripples through me. Foxglove did this? He got other women to file complaints against one of the most powerful men on the isle? As moved as I am by his care, disappointment quickly darkens my heart.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “You know how important it is that I establish my career by my own merits—”
“Amelie Fairfield,” Evie interjects, “when are you going to get it through your head that it’s all right to be saved?”
The blood leaves my face at the ferocity in her tone.
She takes a step closer, hands on her hips. “It’s all right to get help. With your life, with your career, with your heart. There isn’t anything wrong with being saved.”
As she says it, darkness pools deeper into my chest, echoing the last time I truly and fully let myself besaved. It was when I was engaged to King Aspen and desperately wanted Prince Cobalt. The man I lusted for promised to save me, to make everything perfect. And I believed him. Let him take charge. Let himsave mefrom my unwanted pairing so he and I could be together. Then, in his final act, he stepped in front of a grenade meant for me. Died to save my life. Took his last breath after affirming he still loved me, even in the wake of the awful things he made me do.
On one hand, his first promise of salvation was a lie. On the other, his final act literally saved my life.
It’s left me torn ever since, made me untrusting of aid and interference given for my highest good.
Evie must see my internal thoughts written on my face, for she takes my free hand in hers. “It’s time to let go of your past, Ami. You’re wiser now. You know the difference between love and lust, know that neither is something to be ashamed about. You also understand how to identify those you can trust. And I promise you, it’s safe to let those people help you.”
“What if I’m wrong?” My question comes out tremulous. “What if I trust the wrong person again?”
“You’ll survive,” she says, holding my gaze with fiery intensity. Then her mouth curls up. “And anyone who does you wrong, we’ll kill.”
While I know she’s being sincere—in that morbid way of hers—it invites a sense of levity into the room. “Promise?”
She nods. “Promise.”
I read the letter once more.
Foxglove wrings his hands. “What will you do?”
“My offer remains,” Evie says. “If you want out of the marriage, say the word.”
My stomach ties itself in knots. In my hands lies the very thing I’ve wanted. The very thing I’ve been working toward for years. Taking my place at Bartleby’s will prove I am worthy of the most esteemed human clientele. I only have to do one thing to make all my dreams come true.
End my scandal by marrying the prince.
“I know you want to honor your human heritage by claiming fame with the humans,” Evie says. “But please remember Mother never wanted us to reject our fae sides. She only hid our bloodline to keep us safe. In all other things, our mother was rebelliously fae. And you can try all you want, Amelie, but you cannot separate your work from your fae nature. Your creativity comes from fire magic.”
I say nothing because I still can’t bring myself to admit my greatest source of motivation—to claim fame over something she has no hand in. While it would be so easy to simply be satisfied with my renown amongst the fae, I’d never be able to erase that I only got there because of Evie.
But what if she’s right? What if there’s nothing wrong with being saved?
For a moment, I allow myself to consider what it would be like if I no longer cared about my standing with the humans. If I no longer had to balance on the knife’s edge of propriety. My chest immediately swells with relief.
But wouldn’t that mean giving up on my dreams? Accepting failure and defeat?
Or would it be more like letting go of a burden?
I glance from the letter to the unfinished blue ballgown, its bodice dangling a threaded needle. One ball. One meeting with a stranger. One marriage contract to be signed. Then I’ll have everything I’ve wanted.
Plus a lifetime of playing pretend with a man I don’t love.
“You don’t have to answer now,” Evie says.
I rouse myself from my tangled thoughts and force a lighthearted smile. “Good, because we still have wine to finish.”
I toss the letter on my side table and return to the couch with my companions. We drink. We ignore further talk of serious topics. Yet, all the while, I steal glances at the dusty rose dress that entranced me with its gorgeous flames.
