Page 9 of The Demon's Discovery
Bea laughed outright. “He stated his feelings on that clearly enough. No matter how much Mother may have decided she wanted that, it was never going to happen.” She grew serious. “It’s alright, Greta. Truly. I’m not smart like you, but Father will ensure I find a good match.”
My heart sank. She shouldn’t have to marry off either, not unless she wanted to. “I won’t let you be taken away by just anyone, Bea. And I’m sure Ellis will have plenty to say about who they consider for you.” Mentioning his name brought a blush to her cheeks. The son of one of the local merchants, he was likely to end up in the suitor pool, and their long-standing friendship was no secret. I hoped if he was her happiness, they ended up paired. The alternative was too sad to imagine.
A smile returned to her pretty face. “I know. So, help me pick a dress, would you?”
I got to my feet and crossed to the pile of fabric on the floor. “What am I looking for?”
“I don’t know, something… special.”
“They’re all lovely, Bea. Do you want a certain color? Why didn’t your mother call in someone to have a new gown made for you? Doesn’t she always do that?”
“I’m not sure. She hesitated when I brought it up. I think…” She stopped, lowering her voice even though we were alone. “I think perhaps money is short, so we’re trading with her friends for gowns. I think that’s maybe also why they’re moving up my ball.”
“I would never say anything, but I’ve noticed there are some silver pieces missing, tapestries, paintings… Lara says it’s because of her renovations, but…”
Bea nodded solemnly.
We worked in silence for several minutes. I set aside a gown in a light blue that highlighted her eyes, and she chose one in green that she favored for how it looked with her skin.
“These are a start, I suppose,” she sighed.
“When is it?”
“During Father’s normal late-summer celebration.”
“Is it even possible to put together something like this so quickly?”
“It’s only for the announcement that I’m seeking suitors. I won’t be married off after the cocktails are served.” She laughed at me, far more serene about the situation than I was.
“You’ll have to tell me all about it,” I said, letting some of the lace slip through my fingers. I’d never had anything lovely like these gowns, only rough linen shirts or shifts, and wondered how the luxurious fabric would feel against my skin. I curbed my own emotions so as not to stress her further. “I never see much of the parties, aside from the trays of food going out and dirty dishes coming back. I’ll help with your hair, if you’d like. Though there are others with much more talented hands than mine.”
“I love when you do my hair.” Bea smiled, but it was painfully brief. “Mother will no doubt have opinions on that, as well.” Her words were so tart her mouth remained tight from them. Even she had grown weary of Lara’s overbearing need to direct every aspect of her appearance. I think it was mostly luck—but perhaps the fact that Lara relied on me and other members of staff to act as nanny to Bea as a child—that she didn’t end up spoiled and selfish. She knew how to say all the right things when her parents were around, but otherwise, she seemed bored with all the pomp and pretense required of her. It was one of the things I was most proud of.
We sat in the quiet for a moment, then Bea rose and dragged over a stool before retrieving her hairbrush from the bedside table.
“Please?” she asked, giving me the same pleading look she’d used since she was a baby to bend me to her will.
“Alright, sit down.” I sighed, but honestly didn’t mind at all. Brushing her ridiculously thick, glossy hair until it was smooth was my favorite of our long-standing traditions. Henrik and Lara had allowed us much more time together when she was younger, I suspected because I was a convenient babysitter, and they could bend my job description around Bea’s needs. It had simply been nice to spend my days with a girl I considered my sister. I missed it.
Bea turned, and for a second, excitement lit up her face. “You’re going to d’Arcan Monday, right?”
“Yes. I don’t think Henrik would care to explain to Vassago why I didn’t arrive as expected.”
She raised an eyebrow. “First names already?” she teased. I blushed, unreasonably pleased that I was given permission to use his first name and my patrons were not. “Why do you look like you’re still considering it?” She sat beside me on the bed.
“I’m going. I mean, I should… right?”
“Absolutely, Greta! This is what you’ve been waiting for!” She turned and grasped my arm with both hands, eyes wide as she beamed. “What if this is it? The job you’ve been trying to find? Somewhere for you to go, something that provides a life away from this house?”
I hadn’t dared hope too far that direction. “That’s a lovely thought, Bea. Now turn around so I can finish, yes?”
She let out a little squeal but turned as I requested so I could move on to the next section. “Wait, didn’t he say he was the archmage’s brother? What if he was actually the archmage?”
I shook my head. “No, I don’t think he’d lie about that. And wouldn’t your father know? Besides, doesn’t the archmage dress in black and have dark hair?”
“That’s what I’ve heard,” Bea confirmed.
“Right, so Mr. Feland is probably who he says. He reminds me…” I let the thought taper off, picturing the angelic features.
