EMBER
As soon as I reach my room, I seek out the clock on my nightstand. A quarter to midnight. My pulse pounds as I stalk about the room, retrieving the things I’ll need to pack—a fresh chemise, an extra blouse and walking skirt. With every move, my heart sinks deeper, aches harder. The last words I said to Franco echo through my mind, searing my very soul.
It was necessary, I try to tell myself. There’s no future for us.
I rifle through the wardrobe until I find a cloth bag like the one Maisie had taken on her own hasty travels. This one isn’t quite as large, but I won’t need much where I’m going. Everything else, I can get on the road. I may have left my purse behind at the apartment in the Gray Quarter, but if I sell even one of Maisie’s gowns or necklaces, I’ll have plenty to fund my journey and beyond.
My mind whirls to solidify my plan. Travel to Evanston on foot. Sell something of Maisie’s in Black Square first thing in the morning. Board the nine o’clock train at Evanston Station, just like my train ticket says. Reach my destination in Lumenas.
If my violinist lover—formerlover, that is—was right, I’ll have no problem finding a troupe to join once I reach the city. Then all my dreams will come true. I’ll be free of all bargains, all attachments. I can start a new life, have a new name, become a new person…
I don’t want you to be anyone else.
I shake my head and return to less painful thoughts.
I’ll join a band, travel the isle. Every night, I’ll play the piano…
Memories of a certain piano bench flood my mind, of lips drawing near. Lips I finally got to taste tonight.
I don’t want you to be anyone else.
And I don’t wantyou.
A sob heaves from my chest, conjuring fresh tears to stream down my cheeks. No matter how I try to shift my train of thought, it goes again and again to those final words we exchanged. Words I didn’t mean. Words that severed my heart deeper than it could have done his. Unless—unlike me—hemeantwhat he said.
With heavy feet, I drag myself to the dressing table and open the hatbox full of silverware. I retrieve my locket and a tarnished silver knife, placing the locket in my bag and bringing the knife to the locked chest—the one that holds the final remnants of my true identity. I drag it away from the wall and crouch before it.
I can hardly see through the sheen of tears, but I funnel all my hurt, all my rage and pain into slamming the thick handle of the knife into the lock. I’m surprised when it comes loose and the hasp flips open after just three hard blows. Choking on another sob, I flip the toggle latches that flank the lock and lift the lid of the trunk.
I toss the clothing within onto the ground until I find my hidden ballgown. With trembling fingers, I search through the folds for my train ticket and shoes, but the more I move, the heavier my limbs become. I feel as if my blood has been infused with cold iron. Pushing away from the trunk, I pull my knees to my chest and press my forehead against them. I reach for the base of my throat until my fingers come to the smooth opal crescent.
I breathe deeply for several moments, feeling my heart begin to ease. Then, with all the strength left in my limbs, I rise to my feet and check the clock.
Ten seconds until midnight.
Of course, the clock could be slow or fast…
Nine.
But magic is so deeply entwined with intent…
Eight.
Seven.
Six.
What will freedom feel like?
Five.
Four.
Do I even deserve it?
Three.
After everything I said to Franco…
