Page 520 of Pride Not Prejudice

“Do you not know how?”

“Good God, no. It’s too close to manual labor. My father would expire on the spot before he’d allow me to pick up a sewing needle.”

“Then he’d be pleased to know I’ve spent the past five years not embroidering a single thing.” Cynthia’s eyes twinkled mischievously.

Ammalia narrowed her own. “I suspect you’re leaving something out.”

“Only that it’s possible to wear out a sewing needle,” Cynthia confirmed with a laugh. “For half a decade, I’ve sewn more buttons and let out more hems than you can likely imagine. I could take apart this dress and put it back together before the end of the ball.”

“Don’t you dare,” said Ammalia. “Also, it sounds to me as though you do have a talent. Several of them, in fact.”

“I suppose I could apprentice to a seamstress,” Cynthia agreed. “But I’ve not been offered any paying positions for multilingual violinists.”

“That is because the world is not a fair place,” Ammalia agreed. “If I were queen, the first thing I would do is enact a law requiring every kingdom to employ a well-hemmed violinist conversant in English, Greek, Italian, and Latin. I’d make it the best paid of every possible royal post.”

“Let me know when you’re queen. I’ll apply that same day.”

“I’ll never be queen,” Ammalia said with a sigh. “The real reason Father wants Zurri to pick a bride is because he can’t wait for grandsons.”

“Create your own kingdom,” Cynthia suggested. “I’d move there.”

“Without knowing where it is?”

“You’d be there.”

“Perhaps I’d be the only constituent. The Kingdom of Ammalia, population one.”

“Population two,” Cynthia corrected her. “The queen and her multilingual violinist, with her sewing-calloused hands and questionable singing voice.”

“No more sewing,” said Ammalia. “It’s outlawed in my kingdom.”

“Will we wear rags?”

“Why wear anything? Parmenza is very warm. And when it is not, the problem is easily solved by a dip in a thermal spring. You haven’t known true ecstasy until you’ve relaxed in hot water on a gloriously drizzly day.”

“I didn’t know drizzle could be glorious,” Cynthia admitted.

“Maybe it’s the nakedness, and not the drizzle.” Ammalia stroked her chin as though deep in thought. “We will have to research this carefully.”

“I cannot wait,” Cynthia said with feeling. “Can’t we start now?”

“How I wish we could! But I fear we’ve missed the opportunity to run away.”

“Have we? I’m not too busy.”

“You will be in just a moment,” Ammalia said grimly. The music had shifted yet again, and a familiar royal form was striding in their direction, a pair of footmen parting the crowd ahead of Zurri as he took each purposeful step.

“What is it?” Cynthia whispered. “You look as though you’ve seen a Kraken.”

“Worse.” Ammalia groaned. “A future king.”

Before she could say more, Zurri was right there in front of them, visibly gobsmacked at the resplendent sight of Cynthia dressed in the gown Ammalia had designed for her.

Porco cane, Ammalia should have clothed Cynthia in burlap and shaggy fur—anything to hide her beauty from Zurri.

But it was too late for such stratagems. Zurri was clearly smitten. All thanks to Ammalia. And he hadn’t even talked with Cynthia yet.

Once he did so, the game would be over. Cynthia was sweet and resourceful and clever. Any man—or woman—would want her by their side. And Zurri was no fool.

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