“Details emerged while you were away,” Rafael said. “There are rumors they want all the island ports. They want to import fairy salt.”
“King Benicio is an experienced negotiator. He will protect guild interests.”
“You think so? Prince Lorenzo-”
I turned a corner, and Martina’s rant became a blur of angry words that followed me until I left the house. I hurried through the garden, let myself in the side door at Mirella’s estate, and ran to her sewing room. She and her seamstress Velia stood over a pale blue gown. The matching blue ribbon she had worn at her quince had been removed to make way for something new.
Mirella waved a spool of green ruffled lace at me.
“Alma, you’re just in time to help! What do you think of this trim?”
She held it up to the dress. I studied for a moment, then shook my head.
“Too subtle.”
“Subtle? Those ruffles?” Velia said.
I rummaged through a box of embellishments and pulled out gold ribbon. Mirella’s eyes widened.
“That one?”
“You want to show everyone you’re rich? Gold ribbon is the perfect way to do that.”
Velia scowled at us.
“The blue was lovely. I don’t know why you insist on changing it.”
“If I have to wear my quince dress again, we can at least change the embellishments.”
Judging from their expressions, they had been having this argument all morning.
“A metallic trim will catch more attention than lace ruffles,” I said. “You’ll light up the room.”
Velia snorted.
“You say that as if that were a good thing.”
Mirella looked from me to the dress to Velia. Then she nodded.
“Alma is right. If I want to stand out, I should use brighter ribbon. I should show my wealth.”
“The nobles who need wealth will know who has it. You don’t have to prance around the ballroom advertising the fact.”
“I want something brighter.”
Velia sighed and dug through the box of ribbons. She pulled out a spool of delicate silver lace.
“If you insist, something like this would be much more appropriate.”
She draped it over the blue gown. Mirella smiled.
“Oh, that’s perfect.”
“It’s too subtle,” I said. “No one knows us at the ball. We need to make a statement.”
I held up the gold ribbon, and Mirella stepped back to study the effect. Velia and I took turns holding our ribbons against the gown’s sleeves, skirt, and neckline.
Finally, Mirella nodded.
“I want the silver. The gold is lovely, Alma, but it does borderline on gaudy.”
“Which would guarantee attention at the ball.”
Mirella bit her lip. I tossed the gold ribbon back into the basket and smiled to show I wasn’t angry.
“There are other ways to show wealth. Do you have sapphires you can wear with this? Something bigger than what you wore to your quince?”
She nodded.
“And you could create a ruffle with the silver instead of sewing it straight.”
I took the silver trim from Velia and folded it in a pleat against the sleeve. Mirella gasped.
“Alma, you’re marvelous. It will look like a completely different dress!”
She hugged me tighter than she should, wrinkling both of our gowns. Velia waved her hand and smoothed the fabric when Mirella released me.
“You can finish from here, can’t you, Velia?” she asked.
The seamstress nodded, looking pleased at the chance to work uninterrupted. Mirella pulled out of the room.
“Join me for lunch?” she asked.
“Yes, please. Your parents are at my house yelling.”
Mirella wrinkled her nose.
“Guild business. Mother and Father have been angry about something for weeks.”
There was only one place set at the table. Footmen scurried to set a place for me.
“Where’s Carlo?” I asked.
“Shopping. He wants to buy his own carriage, but he needs a team of horses first.”
Footmen placed bowls of chilled soup on the table, each motion choreographed like a dance. I had missed the ceremony of meals while in the Garden District.
“Did you find a dress?” Mirella asked. “Can Tía Teresa make one in time?”
“I’m wearing my mother’s quince gown.”
“Oh, Alma! Is it terribly old-fashioned?”
“No, not at all. It’s beautiful. She made it as her guild masterpiece.”
Mirella nodded.
“If we do something clever with your hair, maybe no one will notice you’re wearing something old.”
“I like the gown. Besides, I can’t wear my hair up. I’m not of age yet.”
“We can still do something clever, and I’m so glad they’re letting you go to the ball. It would be a shame to miss it with your quince so close.”
Footmen removed our soup bowls and placed the fish course on the table.
“How will you style your hair?” I asked.
Mirella sighed dramatically.
“I have no idea! Mother is keeping Matias busy with her style. She said I can only have him for an hour! What can he do in an hour? This is my first time wearing my hair up at a party after my quince, and I’ll look terrible.”
“No you won’t. We’ll think of something.”
After lunch, we went to Mirella’s room to discuss hairstyles. She pushed sketches of gowns off her desk with a sigh.
“I was hoping to have one of these ready in time, but Velia says it is impossible. I hate having to wear my quince dress again.”
She pulled a collection of hairstyle parchments from a shelf and spread them out over her bed.
“None of the nobility were at your quince. They won’t know.”
I meant to cheer her up, but her face fell.
“They’re not coming to mine either,” I added. “And who knows? You might be engaged to a don by the end of the night! Don Diego is looking for a wealthy wife as soon as possible. His father wasted his fortune on horses. We’ll have to fight over him, and you’ll have the advantage since you’re already of age and wearing a newer gown.”
The corner of Mirella’s mouth twitched upwards.
“Who’s Don Diego?”
“How should I know? But he’s a don, so he’s worth considering. And if you don’t like him, there are other nobles with irresponsible fathers. You’ll get a dozen Rosas Rojas!”
She smirked.
“No I won’t. Nobody ever gets that many.”
“A dozen Rosas Rojas at least! A dozen dons who think you’re the most beautiful girl at the ball.”
“A dozen who like my money.”
“More than that, but you’ve got to leave some for me.”
“Alma!”
She pushed my shoulder, and we dissolved into giggles. When we finally stopped, Mirella had recovered from the disappointment of having to wear her quince dress twice.
There were endless possibilities to discuss for her hairstyle. Braids or curls? Ribbons or jewels? Or flowers? What was the best way to show wealth without looking like you were trying to show wealth?
There were no options to discuss for my hair. I would have to wear it down. Mirella just smiled when I complained about it.
“Curls,” she said. “Loose curls. You have gorgeous hair, and my intuition says that Don Diego prefers curls.”
“Mine says he prefers braids with ribbons. He’ll definitely choose you.”
We settled on braids with silver ribbons and sapphires.
The next day flew by in a blur. Tía Teresa followed me all day, instructing the various guild members hired to prepare us all for the ball. My hair was styled last. Tía Teresa hovered over me, supervising the balding man that Father had hired.
“What place do you hold in your guild?” she asked with narrowed eyes.
He sig
hed and waved his hands. Yellow light engulfed my hair.
“Third ruby, Hair Guild.”
“Not a medal holder, then?”
“Obviously not, madam. But I promise you I am competent.”
“We’ve hired the bronze medal of the Hair Guild for her quince,” Tía Teresa said. “We had to pay him two years in advance.”
“Congratulations.”
He rubbed his bald head and adjusted the ruby Hair Guild crest pinned to his tunic. Tía Teresa sniffed with suspicion.
But when he finished, my hair hung down my back in perfect curls. Tía Teresa nodded her approval and pushed him out the door.
I stood in my cotton chemise, finally ready to get dressed. The shapeless white underdress would protect the fabric of my gown from sweat while I danced.
Tía Teresa pulled a carved wooden box from the wardrobe.
“Jewelry?” I said. “Tía, I can’t. My quince- I shouldn’t even wear the jewels on the gown.”
But I refused to remove them, and Tía Teresa agreed.
“Not jewelry.”
She opened the box and pulled out a black corset decorated with swirling silver stitches.
I was nervous about fitting into the dress and wearing a tighter corset. I took a deep breath, filling my lungs full one last time.
Tía Teresa smiled.
“I think you’ll find it surprisingly comfortable.”
She snapped it onto me. The corset glowed gold for a moment. I jumped as it tightened without any help from Tía Teresa.
“How did it do that?”
“Fairy magic.”
I stood very straight and stared at my reflection. I always felt taller when wearing a corset, and I would take any height I could get. The corset’s glow faded until it looked like any other undergarment.
“Fairies don’t visit humans,” I said.
And they never gave them gifts. Not anymore. We had Salaria to thank for that.
“But they used to,” Tía Teresa said. “And those gifts are still available if you know where to look. This corset adjusts when you breathe and expands a little when you need it to. You can wear a smaller size and be more comfortable.”
I inhaled and felt only a tiny resistance. I could even bend my waist a little. I breathed again and watched myself in the mirror. The corset expanded and shrunk as I inhaled and exhaled.
“Where did you get this?”
“I went to the Dark Market yesterday.”
“Tía! Is it safe?”
I spun around, examining the corset from all angles.
“A drop of fairy blood powers the charm. No soul magic is required, so the guilds don’t approve. But it is perfectly safe.”
“Blood?”
Tía Teresa lifted a flap of fabric on the front of the corset. Golden light filled the room. Through the light, I could make out a tiny, glowing stain. I swallowed.
“Ok, then. Fairy blood.”
“I wouldn’t put you in danger, Hija. You know that, right?”
I nodded. If anyone knew about corsets and fabric magic, it was Tía Teresa.
“You’ll need all the breath you can get. Dance every dance with a don, Hija. Every dance. You may not get another chance like this.”
She pulled Mother’s gown out of my wardrobe and smoothed the wrinkles. The leftover magic on the fabric made my room smell as warm as summer. Tía Teresa waved her hands, and the dress materialized around me.
I looked in the mirror and realized I was holding my breath. I let it out in a slow hiss.
The dress fit beautifully.
Tía Teresa blinked back tears.
“You look just like her,” she said.
I hugged her, careful not to wrinkle my bodice.
“Thank you.”
“There’s one more thing you should know,” Tía Teresa said, turning me back towards the mirror.
“More fairy blood?”
She laughed.
“No, Hija. I need to show you how to store Rosas Rojas. Just in case.”
I blinked at my reflection. I looked beautiful, but would that be enough?
“I’m not of age yet. No one will give me a Rosas Rojas.”
“You’re only two weeks away from your quince, and I made sure every eligible nobleman knows it. You’re sure to get some attention. Now, Rosas Rojas are magical. They’ll stick to the dress, but you must activate the charm.”
“Can’t I just carry them?”
“Not if you get a lot. Not if you want to keep dancing.”
“Will I be allowed to dance? I’m not of age yet.”
“You’re close enough. They wouldn’t have invited you if they didn’t mean for you to dance, and this opportunity is too good to waste.”
I smiled at her. She winked.
“When you’re tired of holding a Rosas Rojas, pinch the stem. The rose will stick to your skirt once you activate the magic. It will stay all night.”
“Tía, I won’t need to do that.”
“It won’t hurt to be prepared. I’ll explain more about Rosas Rojas after the ball if you receive any. You’re not supposed to know about their magic until you’re of age, but I’m willing to bend a few rules.”
“Obviously. Thank you, Tía.”
I hugged her one last time and walked down the stairs to our grand entrance. Donna Senona, Rosa, and Father waited for me. Donna Senona wore a gown made of dark blue silk layered with black lace. Even I had to admit it was elegant. But she wore no jewelry apart from her wedding ring, and that made her look plainer than she should have.
Tía Teresa had removed most the green ruffles from Rosa’s gown and added lace. My stepsister’s hair was pulled into a simple chignon with a fresh red rose tucked in it. A silver chain without a pendant hung around her neck, and full sleeves draped past her wrists.
She looked decent.
“You look marvelous, Alma,” Donna Senona said. “How did Tía Teresa create such a dress so quickly?”
She turned to my father and frowned at his expression.
“Is something wrong, Arturo?”
Father shook his head.
“You’re beautiful, Alma.”
He leaned closer to kiss my cheek.
“You look just like her,” he whispered so only I could hear.
The coachmen opened both carriage doors wide so I could fit inside. My dress filled half the coach. Rosa filled the other. Father had hired a second coach for the evening to give us all enough room.
“Next time, we get dressed at the castle,” Donna Senona’s voice echoed from the other carriage. Father laughed.
Next time would be my quince, and I would have an even bigger gown. Although I wouldn’t have to travel in a carriage to get to the party.
I watched out the window as we pulled away from the estate. A short drive through the woods would take us to the heart of Castello and the king’s castle.
Chapter 4
The lights grew brighter and brighter as we drove. Lanterns and magic swallowed the stars. I caught glimpses of the castle between trees and buildings.
Rosa stared out the opposite window, away from the castle.
“Look, doctors!” she said. “There are so many of them!”
I turned from the castle and blinked until my eyes adjusted. Men and women in dark robes filed into a building just outside the gate.
I shrugged.
“The Medical Guild meets every time there is a ball. Every doctor within a day’s ride will be here.”
I turned back to the castle. Guards lined the streets. Light Guild masters stood behind them, creating shimmering silver curtains above the road.
Rosa missed it all. She kept her nose pressed to the window and watched the line of doctors instead.
A guard stopped us when we reached the castle, and our coachman presented our invitation. I held my breath. What if they realized I was the only member of my family that wasn’t noble? Or that I wasn’t of age? What if they turned me away?
The guard
nodded his approval, and the coachman helped us out of the carriage. I walked up the stairs with my head held high.
No one stopped me. A few people watched with curious expressions, but they let me pass.
I was in the castle!
A footman led us through a maze of hallways to the ballroom. Rows of portraits lined the walls. Past kings and queens and nobles of Castana smiled and scowled down on me. Every few hallways, the style of painting changed, marking the passage of time by a new head of the Paint Guild. Dark colors gave way to vibrant hues. Paintings on wood became paintings on plaster, and then paintings on canvas.
I knew the moment we entered Alessandro’s hallway. Every portrait glowed with health and youth from the light he captured in the canvas. I paused in front of King Benicio’s framed face. He had a hooked nose. I’d heard gossip about it, but in his portrait the nose added character. It made him stand out from the crowd.
Queen Evetta’s portrait had stunning eyes. I’d heard rumors that her ears were too big, but in the painting they looked just right. Alessandro had found the balance in her features.
I skipped most of the others, passing them in a blur of light and color. Prince Lorenzo had come of age a few weeks ago. His portrait would be towards the end of the hallway.
I found it just before we reached the entrance to the ballroom.
Mirella’s Dark Market copy was similar to the original, but it paled in comparison. Alessandro’s painting was mesmerizing. Lorenzo’s dark hair was curlier than it had been in the copy, and it gleamed. His eyes were warm and crinkled at the corners, as if he were thinking of a private joke.
Thank goodness for the fairy corset! I blinked and focused on breathing. In and out. The corset stretched to allow it.
Rosa ran into me. Mirella ran into her.
I didn’t care. I couldn’t stop looking at his face.
“Wow,” Mirella said.
“I know.”
“Let’s keep moving, girls,” Donna Senona said.
“Enough gawking,” Martina said. “At least try to act like you belong, Mirella.”
But even she took a second look at the portrait before striding towards the ballroom. Rafael and Carlo hurried after her. Mirella sighed and joined them.
Rosa leaned closer to the painting, studying Prince Lorenzo’s nose.
“Isn’t he handsome?” I whispered to her.
Lady Alma Page 3
