“Your girlfriend,” the little girl teases.
I peek up at Beaufort who seems probably the most relaxed I’ve ever seen him.
“Technically no.”
“But he luuuurves you,” she says, making a kissy face, shadow magic rushing out of her fingers and forming love hearts in the air.
I laugh. “It’s early days,” I begin, knowing Beaufort doesn’t love to talk about his feelings, “I’m not sure–”
Beaufort shrugs. “Totally in love with her. Now,” he gives his sister a little nudge, “is that how we welcome our guests in the palace?”
“Nooo!” the little girl says, giving him a look of thunder. Those same hearts turning into poked out tongues. Beaufort glares at her and her shadows race away as she steps forward.
“It’s very nice to meet you, Briony,” she says, in a very refined voice.
“Likewise. Nice to meet you too, Arabella.”
She gazes up at her brother, looking unimpressed. “Your girlfriend needs to learn some manners.” She leans towards me, cups a hand around her mouth and lowers her voice. “You need to address me as Princess Arabella.”
“Oh,” I say, cheeks pinkening, something Arabella doesn’t miss and examines with interest – the girl is as quick as her brother. “Sorry, Princess Arabella.” I do an awkward little bow too.
I cringe at the words and the gesture. I feel like I’m back in Slate playing princesses with my sister – weaving flowers together to form make-shift crowns and wrapping the old rug around our middles in place of ball gowns. Princes, Princesses, palaces – it’s surreal. Make believe. Do people really live this way?
“Can you do magic?” she asks. “Beau’s last girlfriend could make me fly round the room with her shadow magic.”
I glance at Beaufort again. “I’m sorry but I can’t do that.”
“That’s okay. I didn’t really like her anyway. She shouted at me a lot. And the flying around the room was scary.”
“And that is one of the many reasons she is no longer my girlfriend,” Beaufort says.
“I shout a lot too,” I point out. “Especially at your brother.”
“You do?” Arabella says, her mouth falling open in shock.
“Yes, sometimes he deserves it.”
“It’s all right, I actually like it when she shouts at me,” he tells his sister, winking at me.
“Does that mean I can sh–”
“No, only her.”
“Wow.” The little girl swings her gaze between us. “He must really love you.”
The temperature of my cheeks rises several more degrees. It’s one thing for Beaufort to tell me that he loves me when it’s the two of us and no one else is around to hear his declarations. But to have him say it in front of someone else – his little sister – is another thing altogether.
After Amelia, after Muriel, and after Stanley, I began to wonder if love was ever going to be something in my life. I’d kind of accepted that it wouldn’t be. And maybe that would be okay. Loving someone is dangerous because if you lose that person it can break you in two. It’s why I have to find Fox.
To save myself from melting into a puddle of feelings and emotions that I just can’t handle right now with Beaufort smoldering at me and this little princess scrutinizing every one of my expressions, I ask, “Can you show me the doll’s house? It looks beautiful.”
“Sure,” she says, walking over to take my hand in a self-assured manner that definitely reminds me of her big brother.
She leads me to the doll’s house and I kneel down to take a better look as she shows me each of the rooms, the dolls inside, and the different little pieces of furniture. I try to concentrate on what she’s saying – nodding my head at the right moment, asking the odd question. But my mind keeps slipping back to Beaufort’s words.
He loves me. He loves me enough to let everyone else know about it. Even here in the palace in Onyx Quarter.
Why are my insides glowing at that shared confession? Why aren’t I petrified?
