Page 75 of The Dandelion Princess
“Of course.” His lips twitch into almost a smile and I follow him back to a low dias where Freja stands before the monstrous cakes.
The old Sondish dessert is baked in the shape of a person and decorated with no regard to the night terrors it might give me. Mine has peppermint curls and a gown of black licorice, while Freja’s is filled with Pankedruss custard.
We call for silence, and the crowd gathers. Clara lights candles on each cake, and the crowd begins to sing—nothing bright and simple. The people of Sondmark salt every celebration with a heavy dose of Calvinism.
Welcome tomorrow, goodbye today
Last of the sunset flying away
The dark will unmake us, Then usher the dawn
Goodnight, my old self. A new self is born.
We blow our candles out and pose for a quick photograph. The softness of Freja’s cheek lingers on mine; our hands are tightly woven. There is no seeing into the future, but I taste the bittersweetness of unity, just for tonight.
When Freja and Oskar slip away, I mingle for two. The crowd thins, and I spot Marc standing on the other side of the pool. My eyes fasten on his suit, really lingering now that the light has fallen and my own expression isn’t so easily read. Is he wearing—
He tips his head.Come here.
Slowly enough that it doesn’t look too obvious, stopping to greet and laugh and kiss cheeks, I dance around to the other side.
“You look stupid hot,” I tell him. My eyes are trained on the pool, and Marc’s smile is slow and easy. “I didn’t realize—”
I have a thing forIntelligence Force, a kind of Seongan James Bond knock off, insanely better than the original IP. The drama poster hangs in my closet and Marc must have seen it, given how often I’ve stuffed him in there lately. In addition to the dead black suit, he’s wearing a sparkly brooch and a pair of aviators, achieving the perfect cosplay. I doubt anyone else has noticed. Happy birthday to me.
“If you’re not careful,” he says, gaze arcing over my head like he’s checking the perimeter or preparing to neutralize a hostile target, “it’ll be obvious.”
“What obvious?” I ask, plucking two flutes of champagne and putting one into his hand. Now he’s got a weapon in the event someone needs to be stabbed in the shoulder.
“That you want to have your way with me.” I choke but he takes a smooth swallow.
I frown into my glass. “Can I call you Je Ha? Just for today?”
“You may not.”
I give a brisk nod. “Right. Best to keep the identity secret.”
“How’s the tiara?” He scuffs his shoe against the rough stones.
It’s only a loaner. It’s only a loaner.
“Any chanceAmmawants to sell?” I ask, touching the delicate metal. “She hasn’t done me any favors, lending me this. Everything else is going to be second best.”
“You can visit the tiara whenever you want.”
I smile, but it hurts, right up under my ribs in a way that makes me want to dive into the pool and swim down, down, down until I emerge in some other timeline in some other land. In a Sondmark that never heard of Seong, as an Ella who never loved Marc.
“With my nose pressed up against the glass, fogging it up?” I laugh. “It’s not the same as being mine.”
Marc slides his hands into his pockets and I watch the play of muscles. “You don’t want a future that involves tiaras.”
“Right.” I blink in rapid succession. I’m leaving. I’m still leaving. Sooner or later.
The string quartet breaks into the national anthem, and Marc removes his sunglasses while the party stands at attention and sings.The assembly bows or curtsies as Mama and Père retire, making a show of unity as they walk hand in hand towards the old family apartment.
“Are things better there?” Marc asks, looking after them.
“That’s just a pretty picture,” I say. Warm lights dot the garden, and floating flowers are reflected in the dark waters ofthe pool. I smile and nod as guests begin to trickle away. “Are you going, too?”
