“That’s Marcella Briarstone from Millton,” Stella whispers, her face falling.
Moe’s expression doesn’t change, but Aelia’s eyes widen and flick back to Marcella to confirm.
Briarstone.The last name of a wanted criminal…but what crime? Why would they allow a criminal into a competition for the King’s hand? And Millton. Millton was known for…growing corn?
Marcella’s piercing brown eyes slide to me upon my lingering gaze, impaling my focus.
Millton is the Dragon Land’s penitentiary. Where all the criminals are locked up, and the city’s main income is for those tending to said penitentiary.
I swallow under Marcella’s gaze, tearing my eyes away.
“Don’t worry about her,” Stella waves a hand. “With the King’s eliminations, I’m sure she’ll be sent home quickly if she isn’t excused for breaking any rules first. You all saw how mouthy she is.”
But seeing her alone feels like observing a wounded lone wolf. And I’m that foolish lamb stumbling toward it as I dip my head and excuse myself from the group of women.
I head straight for Marcella.
I take my seat next to her, not looking at her as I flatten my dress. “Good morning.”
She ignores me, arms crossed over her chest . A single finger tapping against her inner arm.
Clearing my throat, I glance at her. “How’s your head?”
“Excuse me?” She glares, hard enough to hurt.
“I-I just mean…sorry. Not because of the wine—” I giggle nervously before clearing my throat. “Last night you mentioned something about your family, so I wasn’t sure if your memories were starting to come back. And I woke with a splitting headache that hasn’t seemed to let up, so I was curious if you felt something similar.”
“The only headache I have right now is from you talking to me.” She lands the insult with perfect precision.
I open my mouth. Shut it. Open it again.
“Yes! My head has been awful all morning!” Aelia chimes in from across the table, as she settles into her seat. “I figured perhaps I hadn’t drunk enough water yesterday, and I might be a little dehydrated.”
Marcella takes her attention off me to the group of women still gathered and mumbles, “It’s not the wine, nor dehydration. It’s whatever they’ve used to clear our memories.”
Lady Bethany calls out near the head of the table. “Girls, please take your seats and enjoy your breakfast. Today we shall begin with an etiquette lesson afterward.” She tosses a glance to the servers waiting at the walls before they all disappear into a side alley.
Everyone settles into their seats, and the servers return. Lining our tables with plates of berries, cheese, and sugar-dusted pastries. More crowd in, giving us thin golden teacups and pouring us aromatic, steaming tea.
After the servers leave, Marcella suddenly flicks a glance up at Aelia. “How did your time with Cyrus go last night?”
Aelia’s teeth flash as she smiles. “Oh, it was wonderful! He’s such a charming man. Though…one of little words. He didn’t quite eat…just listened to me. It was lovely! Most men I’ve spoken with only blabber about themselves and their valiant accomplishments. He was…” Her gaze settles on something behind us, her eyes growing hazy as her smile falls slowly.
“Yes?” Marcella hisses as she leans forward. “Go on?”
Aelia blinks, then turns her attention back to us. “Sorry, what was I saying?”
“You were talking about King Cyrus,” I prompt.
“Oh! Right. You know, before coming here I recall my mother gushing about how wonderful he is and how we would make a wonderful pair. But I think she was mostly excited by the thought of me becoming Queen. I’d almost say her ambition in that regard outmatches mine.” She laughs. “Though, I suppose a mother’s will for their daughter is as strong as any, don’t you think?”
Marcella sighs and leans back into her chair, taking a teacup with her and sipping it.
I answer to fill the silence with a small smile, “Yes, I think so.”
But the hole of where my mother should be in my memory is a dark weight.
Eight
