Chapter One
In Which Hopes Are Crushed
Happy energy buzzed through Tasia’s limbs as she tried to reign in her excitement and focus on Mother Anthi’s hair. She wasn’t entirely sure how the older woman was related—it was some flavor of cousin, eight or nine times removed—nor was she sure how she felt about calling herMotherAnthi. But Anthi Galanis and her family had welcomed Tasia into their home yesterday, so she wasn’t inclined to make waves at present.
“Could you use this ribbon, Tasia dear?” Mother Anthi held up a jewel-green ribbon that matched the trim of her dress and flattered her dark hair and olive coloring.
“Of course.”
A snort came from the other side of the small bedroom. Tasia chose not to look at Anthi’s daughter, Pagona, who had already expressed her opinions about their “cousin.” If Tasia left the younger girl alone, perhaps they would become friends faster. Some people simply needed space to get used to change.
“I’m ready,” Pagona announced.
This time, Tasia did look over. Dressed in a shade of mustard-yellow that would have made Tasia look ill, Pagona was a charming picture of youth and beauty.
“You look lovely, Pagona,” Tasia offered.
“I know.” The other girl sniffed. She made a show of scanning Tasia’s form. “Someof us were blessed with actual figures and not too much height.”
Tasia kept her face serene and focused on the coffee-colored tresses under her fingertips. Despite the pointed comment, she still held high hopes for this evening. A village dance with absolutely all of the neighbors, if Anthi and Pagona were to be believed, was the perfect introduction for a newcomer. The general party spirit infusing the event would make everyone more inclined to be pleased, and dancing gave partners something else to focus on until they established a rapport. She couldn’t have arrived at a better time.
A knock, followed shortly by several female voices, had Pagona dashing from the room. “They’re here!”
Though she had made some effort to close the door, her enthusiastic retreat meant that the latch bounced off the jamb and the door came to rest partially open. The words coming from the living space were, therefore, completely audible.
After a flurry of greetings that included compliments about attire, one unfamiliar voice asked in an undertone, “Is she here?”
“She is,” Pagona answered. “And she’s just as horrible and ugly as Cynthia wrote in her letter.”
Tasia missed the next part while she tried to figure out who Cynthia was. She finally remembered that her stepsister, Cindy, now went by her full name since her marriage to the crown prince of Diomland.
“—but those dresses! It’s a pity she’s so tall,” Pagona was grousing when Tasia returned to her eavesdropping.
Tasia secured a final pin in Mother Anthi’s hair, well aware that Pagona only bemoaned the height difference because it meant she couldn’t commandeer any of her cousin’s attire.
When Cindy arranged for her stepsister to be shipped out to the wilds, their mother, Lady Saveria, had graciously offered to pack for her youngest daughter. Tasia soon discovered that all the clothes sent with her were the castoffs the others hadn’t wanted. None of them were unduly worn, but they were the plainest options and decidedly out of fashion. After unpacking, she had also learned that outdated city fashions were still something special in the middle of nowhere.
“Very nice, Tasia dear,” Mother Anthi cooed as she studied herself in the age-pitted mirror.
As the Galanis matriarch and her newest “daughter” exited the bedroom, Tasia saw that Pagona’s curves and shorter stature were not unique. All four of the girls standing by the front door were petite, well-rounded, and dark-haired. With her pale, freckle-prone skin, red-gold hair, and ability to see out the arched window decorating the top of the front door, Tasia could not have been more dissimilar.
She offered her friendliest smile to the group. Pagona wrinkled her nose while the other three showed varying degrees of embarrassment. Tasia corrected her observation: Two of the girls looked chagrined, and the third had an expression that came across as calculating.
“We’re leaving, Mother,” Pagona began as she ushered her friends through the door. “Tasia can help you carry the treats.”
Mother Anthi simply waved. Tasia followed her to the counter and accepted a load of goodies baked with honey as the chattering pack of young ladies exited the house.
“ButIwant to go, too,” whined a young voice.
“No,” Stavros Galanis answered, firm but not unkind.
Chara was staying home with her father tonight. Having stolen a good third of the honey treats Anthi had prepared for the dance, the three-year-old was now paying the price by missing out on the event and hugging a large bowl under her chin.
An adorable bundle of dark curls and childish enthusiasm, Chara reminded Tasia of her little brother, Gus. A fact that had made her homesick the night before. Waking up this morning with the youngest Galanis wrapped around her torso like a corset had tempered that emotion somewhat.
Mother Anthi kissed her husband and toddler good-bye. Both ignored Tasia, but since more of the honey treats were making a reappearance, she didn’t take it personally. Mother Anthi shared a grimace with her as they closed the door on the unpleasant scene.
Four party dresses were whisking out of sight around a bend in the road as the pair walked down the front path. Tasia hoped that Pagona’s friends weren’t the only females near her age. She guessed they were all around seventeen or eighteen, a couple years younger than her own twenty years. Maybe the villagers slightly older than Pagona would be better pleased by a new arrival.
