Secondhand Charm (16 page)

“Do all serpentinas think this way?” I said. “Do they all try to change the world?”

She shrugged. “Serpentinas do whatever they want. Every now and then you find one who wants nothing to do with the others, who goes off and disappears into society and devotes herself to alms and whatnot. Feeding the poor, tending the sick.”

Like my mother. My vision blurred. I watched as a last bright ember refused to be snuffed by my sprinkled seawater.

“It’s fine for them, I suppose, if it makes them happy,” Annalise went on. “But I want more from life than that. And I suspect a bright, ambitious girl like you does too.”

The last ember surrendered with a hiss and turned to muddy black ash like the rest.

“I don’t know what I want from life,” I said. “Not anymore.”

She looped her elbow through mine. “You don’t have to want anything now, dear. All I want now is a bit of rest and some breakfast. Let’s hurry inside before they find us missing.”

Chapter 32

I was exhausted by the time I reached my couch. I peeled off my things and gave them to Annalise, who hid them in the back of her armoire, and pulled on the underthings I’d worn the night before. In minutes I was fast asleep on the couch.

When I woke hours later, the sun was already in view over the ocean, westward. Late afternoon. Annalise prodded me out of bed and into a bath. Again I smelled like the sea.

“Hurry! You’ve slept the morning away, and tailors are coming to measure you. They’re spitting needles at me, but I’ve insisted on a heavenly gown for you. You’re my maid of honor.”

I climbed into the tub. All I could think of was the sea. Could I really explore the water anytime I chose? Could I go for another swim tomorrow morning?

I resolved to wake early tomorrow for a solitary dip. I had a name to choose. I helped my leviathan into the bathtub with me and stroked his soft textured hide with my fingertip.

What kind of name shall I give you, friend?
I asked him.

Any kind you like.

He blinked his emerald eyes at me and purred as I stroked him.

I do love you, little one.

He made a playful snap at my finger.
Who do you call little?

I wanted to rest and soak in the tub, but Annalise was a cruel taskmistress. She threatened to drag me out by my hair, so at last I washed myself and climbed out and put on the frock she gave me. This one, at least, was not so restrictive and fussy as the one I wore last night.

“Tonight, for the masquerade ball, what would you say to this costume?” She held up a feathered mask designed to look like a peacock, and a shocking purple and green dress to match.

“Masquerade ball?”

“It’s part of the prewedding celebration,” she said. “Pylandrian custom.”

“Must I go?” I said. “I don’t want Anthony Boudreau chasing me around. I think tonight I’d rather sleep.”

Annalise’s lower lip pouted out, but then changed her mind and smiled prettily. “Of course you’re tired. Young men’s hearts may break, but I’ll make your excuses. It’s just as well.”

“Don’t be a goose, Annalise,” I said. “They only have eyes for you. And you may have them, as far as I’m concerned.”

Annalise made a comical face. “A goose am I, Miss Evelyn?” She honked like a goose, then socked me with a cushion.

I lobbed one back at her, and the battle ensued for a moment or two, our leviathans getting into the spirit of the thing and nipping at our ankles until we collapsed, laughing and thoroughly mussed up, on the couch.

“Just look at us,” Annalise said, shaking her head. “Do we look like a queenly bride-to-be and her cousin bridesmaid?”

“I hope not,” I said. “
You
signed up to be a bride. I don’t know where this bridesmaid nonsense entered the picture. Gowns and whatnot hold no interest for me.”

“That’s bound to change.” She pulled a gown from her armoire. “While we’re on the subject of young men, we should give some thought to your future. Of course there’s no need for you to think of marriage just yet—”

“
Marriage?
” I squawked. “What are you
talking
about?”

“That’s what I say, dear, there’s no need for you to worry about that yet. But you should still allow some of the more eligible young men to court you. Too bad tonight is a masquerade. If I could see faces I could keep watch for the handsomest young lord for dear cousin Marie.”

I shuddered. “Please don’t. Why don’t you just focus on getting
yourself
married for now, and leave my future for later. Much later.”

Annalise chuckled. “I think there’s something underneath all this protest of yours.”

“Hah.”

I finished donning my stockings and slippers, then shook my wet hair out before the fire.

“Annalise?”

“Hmm?”

“Does King Leopold know about your leviathan?”

She picked him up from the floor. “Bijou? Little Bijou? No. He knows I’m fond of animals. Which reminds me, I’ll have to inquire whether or not your stonemason is settling in well at his new post. What was his name again? Andrew?”

“Aidan,” I said, feeling my face grow hot, for like it or not, I was suddenly and instantly reminded of that kiss. That infernal, unasked-for kiss. I clung resolutely to my original subject. “How can you not tell your future husband about a creature that follows you everywhere?”

“Oh, he’ll learn soon enough,” she said. “Romance requires a steady supply of little surprises. Men want to feel they possess you entirely, Evie. They’re really incredibly jealous creatures. But he’ll settle into the idea once the wedding is behind us.” She stroked her amber serpent. “How could anyone not love Bijou?”

I watched Annalise fuss with her dress, and marveled at how different her thinking was from my own. Here we were, both serpentinas, yet so very unlike each other. I couldn’t fathom deceiving someone I loved about my leviathan or my nature—if, that is, I loved somebody.

“Are you in love with King Leopold?”

She left off buttoning her waist. “Now there’s an odd question.”

“I was just curious,” I said. “You are, after all, marrying him.”

She smoothed the bodice of her dress. “Are you in love with someone, Evie?”

“Me?” I wasn’t prepared for the question. “No.”

She gave me a wink, then looked out her window. The sinking afternoon sun hung low over the water, painting the sky violet pink, like Annalise’s cheeks.

“Have you been in love for a long time?” I asked.

She kept her gaze on the sea. “I’ve only known King Leopold for a short time, really.” She went back to her buttons. “But it feels like I’ve been in love for a long time. Perhaps that’s one of the signs.”

“What does it feel like?”

“There!” The last button was done, and she twirled around. Her skirts kept on swirling after she’d stopped twisting. “What does it feel like to be in love?” she repeated. “Well, it’s … ” She gazed out the windows and down at the beach. “You can’t bear to be apart, for one thing.”

“Like the king said,” I said. “He didn’t want you to make him wait an extra minute.”

She clipped an earring on and adjusted her hair in the mirror.

“You feel like you’d do anything within your power to see your love happy. Remove any obstacle, any nuisance, if it would please him. That’s what it feels like.”

“And how do you know when he is happy?”

Annalise forgot about dressing for a moment.

“Are you
sure
you’re not in love with someone, Evie?” She watched me closely.

I shook my head. “Certainly not!”

“If you are, I can teach you how to win him,” she teased.

I shook my head. “If I was,” I said, “which I’m not, I wouldn’t want to use any art for that. Whoever wants to love me had better do it with no special help from me. He’d better love me, leviathan and all.”

I endured hours of being measured and stuck with pins by a team of tailors, all of them thin men with nimble fingers and squinty eyes. They looked like they must be related to one another—the Royal Ancestral Guild of Dressmakers, I imagined. Annalise described the dress she had in mind by drawing it, or nearly, right upon my person. The tailors responded in kind until I asked them to please stop touching me, at which they disintegrated into piles of apologetic dust. Finally surly Dorothy appeared with a tray of tea and toast and sausages, and I nearly attacked it.

A swarm of castle ladies appeared in our rooms to update us on three dozen trifling wedding matters. Acting as maid of honor required a whole elaborate ritual, involving numbers of steps this way and that, and bows, and promenades, and meeting the bride at the eleventh pew, and so on. The ladies made little attempt to conceal their dismay that I, a stranger, had upstaged them all for this coveted position. They could have it, as far as I was concerned.

The ladies made a great to-do of presenting Annalise with lacy garters they had sewn for her wedding. By tradition, she would wear the garters during the ceremony. During the party to follow, just before she and the king left for their honeymoon, the king would remove the flimsy, ornamental garters and toss them to the male guests. It amused me to see that this bawdy tradition, even practiced at Maundley weddings in the parish church, made it all the way to the royal wedding party.

The ladies left, and Annalise dressed for the masquerade. She deliberated between a swan costume and a mermaid suit—an obvious choice—but finally settled upon a snow fairy, dressed in powder blue and silver, with a snowflake-studded mask and snow-tipped wand to match.

“Will people recognize me?” she asked, turning so I could examine her from all angles.

“Well, they’ll know you’re not Lady Fitzmaurice,” I said. “Anyone deeply inquisitive will be able to figure you out. But this might be one night where the other ladies of Leopold’s court don’t want to claw your eyes out.”

Annalise laughed. “They’re just a bunch of cats. Cats hate newcomers. They’ll get used to me in time.” She examined her reflection once more in the mirror. “Wish me luck.”

“What do you need luck for?”

“Hmm? Oh, nothing. To not trip and break my ankle before the wedding, I expect.” And off she went.

I loaded the fire with more logs from the hob and curled up on a cushion by the hearth. My leviathan climbed onto my lap for a snooze, belly-up. I traced the paler scales of his underbelly with my finger, and he wriggled happily. I let my eyes drift out of focus, watching the fire. I was glad I’d opted out of the masquerade. I looked forward to a quiet evening.

Eventually I felt too warm, so I rose, much to my leviathan’s annoyance. I went out onto the balcony to feel the night air. Light spilled from the ballroom windows. Music from the party floated upstairs, and I leaned over the railing, enjoying the orchestra. Couples snuck outside onto the terrace and stole kisses behind large cement plantings of flowers and trees. I looked more closely. There was Annalise herself, as the snow fairy, whispering with the king!

We’d already seen his costume. He was a gladiator, which let him display his well-upholstered chest to Pylander’s noble ladies. I wanted to hide behind the couch when he appeared in Annalise’s doorway, showing off his leather sandals, wide-belted loincloth, horsehair helmet, spear, and shield. After he was gone, Annalise nearly asphyxiated laughing.

But there they were now, far from the rest of the party, whispering to one another. The king pulled Annalise close and kissed her. I retreated back into our chamber.

I lay on the couch to see if sleep would follow, but now I was wide awake. Finally I decided to search for something to read. I’d heard of a library on the lower level. With everyone at the masquerade, I ought to go unnoticed. I pulled my shoes on and took a candle with me.

Once down the grand stairs, I headed toward where I thought the library might be. I peered around each doorway cautiously, not wanting to stumble into a billiard room or salon full of party guests. Finally I found a door with neither light nor noise spilling from underneath. I turned the handle. This produced no protest from within, so I pushed the door open.

This was the library, all right. My candle revealed dark leather chairs, a writing table, and glass cabinets displaying curios from around the world. Most of one wall was devoted to books. I let the door close behind me and examined the shelves by candlelight.

Then a movement from the shadows behind the door made me jump in terror.

“Oh, Your Majesty!” I cried. “Forgive me, but you startled me … ”

He stepped forward into my circle of candlelight, looking like a true gladiator from ancient Roman days, not a king playing dress up. Here in the shadows he seemed larger than his true height.

Then I realized something was wrong.

Fear made me speak before thinking. “It’s you.”

Staring down at me, under the visor of a horsehair helmet, was a pair of brown eyes with gold centers. Hawk’s eyes.

The highwayman. Here, at the king’s masquerade.

“It’s who?” he said, in a deep voice I could never forget. “Who do you think I am?”

I closed my eyes and tried to force myself not to shake.

“It’s who you’re not, I mean to say,” I said, making my voice sound very young and silly, like one of the castle girls, like anyone else but myself. “I thought you were the king.”

“I am not the king.”

“It was the costume, you see.” I kept my eyes riveted to the door. Trapped in a dark library with a murderer, and no one to realize I was missing!

“Four different guests are wearing this type of costume tonight,” he said.

“I’m sure the ladies are thrilled.” I reached up and pulled the first book my fingers touched from the bookshelf. “Let me wish you good night.”

I approached the door, and for a horrible second he didn’t move to let me pass. Light from my candle played over the bronze of his shield and the sweat on his skin.

He stepped aside.

As soon as I cleared the library door, I ran.