Finally, he reached into his bag and withdrew a whole fistful of money. “You want coins?” he asked, all but snarling as he held them out. “Here’s one for every freckle on your face!”
Leopold threw the money at me, and it was as if he’d tossed a match upon piles of dry kindling. Everyone leapt forward, eager to retrieve the coins, which had fallen to the cobblestones and were now rolling down the street.
I was pushed to the side by an older boy twice both my age and size, and I tumbled to the ground. I tried to stop the fall but only scraped the palms of my hands raw. Someone stepped on my foot and I had to roll out of the way to avoid being trampled.
Palace guards, hidden somewhere along the procession route, raced forward and swept all three of the Marnaignes back into the coach. The driver cracked the whip, urging the stallions into motion, but there were too many people swarming the carriage. One horse reared on its hind legs, screaming a whinny into the sky.
“Get them out of the way!” the driver shouted at the guards.
They began tossing people to the side without care, acting as if we were nothing more than obstacles to be removed. I saw an older woman fall on the cobblestones and grab her hip, howling. The royal coach raced by her without bothering to stop.
Good blessings and joys indeed.
I felt my shoulders dip; I was disappointed to not have gotten in a final volley of words with the prince. They burned at the back of my mouth, wanting to be spat out at someone in excoriating fury. I swallowed the words down but could feel their heat all the way to my belly. I wondered if they would always remain there, forever unsaid, left to fester and grow.
Somehow, Bertie found me in the madness and helped me to my feet. He all but dragged me into an alleyway. “Are you all right?”
I could feel blood trickling down my leg and knew my stockings, my best pair, had been torn in the fall. In truth, they were now made more of darning than actual knit wool, but they were soft and sagged only a bit in the knees and were the prettiest shade of dove-gray. I thought they’d been pink once, when Annette had first worn them, but I loved them still. And now they were in shreds.
Even worse, my silver coin was gone, somehow snatched in the chaos.
Mama was going to be so mad.
“Why did you make me talk to him?” I wailed, fighting the urge to smack my older brother. “We were supposed to change hats. He wasn’t supposed to recognize me! Mama is going to give me such a beating!”
“I’ll tell her it was my fault,” he offered.
“Itwas!” I said, swatting at his ridiculous magnanimous gesture.
We walked up the next street, listening for the royal coach eventhough it would have been impossible to beg for blessings now. I kept my eyes on the ground, hoping against all hope that I might find a coin caught between cobblestones, abandoned and forgotten.
Shadows began to grow long and turn as purple as a bruise.
“Bertie! Hazel! Where are you?” We both turned to see Etienne jogging down the street.
“Mama says you’re to come back now!”
I bit my lip, wondering if she’d already heard what had happened. “Is she…is she upset?”
Etienne just shrugged.
“Where are they?” Bertie asked, patting his pocket, reassuring himself of the copper’s presence. Of course he still had his coin.
“Papa has the wagon ready, the next street over. They said we’re needed at the temple.”
“The temple?” Bertie groaned. “Can’t we go to the tavern? I got a copper. We could have a meat pie!”
“Mama says we can’t dawdle. The temple is expecting us.”
My breath caught, and all the day’s previous troubles vanished in an instant. “Which temple?” I managed to squeak out.
“Don’t know. Not the First’s. We were just there. The queen went right by Mama. Didn’t even glance her way!” Etienne laughed, unaware of the revelation erupting in my chest.
Bertie’s eyes, so surprised and blue, met mine, and I felt pinned in place.
I could tell he’d jumped to the same thought I had, the one making my blood race and my heart pound so heavily I could see my pulse in the corner of my eyes. I was suddenly clammy, damp with fevered chills, and my throat seemed too dry to swallow properly.
“Do you think he finally…?”
