“Yes. You are not far behind the top two. Should you perform well on the final exam, you will be within reach of the academic award.”
I don’t know what to say. I knew I liked this class and that I was doing well, but not this well.
“I suppose it is to be expected, given who your father is.” Fleming rubs his jutting chin. “Have you considered a major in political theory?”
“Honestly, I have not decided on a major yet.”
He nods, as if he understands. “Between you and me, it is a decision worth taking one’s time to make.”
I smile, murmur my thanks, and excuse myself. I leave in a daze, my bag dangling loosely from my wrist as I walk outside the lecture room and down the corridor, buzzing with students heading to their next classes. Ican’t stop wondering whether I’m doing this well because I want Dad to be proud, or because fencing is gone and I need something to fill the void. Or is it more than that?
Maybe I like it. Maybe I’m good at it.
I never gave myself the space to find out before. Fencing always came first.
The problem is, I’m not sure I have the instinct for leadership that Dad does. I don’t walk into a room and command it with a glance or the tone of my voice. I don’t have the stomach to smile through difficult decisions, and sometimes I wonder if I’m brave enough to stand in front of a thousand shouting people, all expressing their opinions, some even making threats, and still hold my ground.
The truth is… I don’t know.
On the way to my next class, my Bond buzzes with a message from Edmund. I stop outside the lecture room to read it, and when I see the link to the dress code for the stables on the Moonshine Mile, a smile breaks across my face.
“If I can’t get a spar, I’ll settle for a race. I’ll pick you up at seven.”
I asked her once what she thought love was. She told me love was sacrifice, and only then, after so many years, did I finally understand her choice.
—EVELYN WALDSTEN
CHAPTER 36
Joining Edmund in the evenings is still a bad idea. I’m not a Pinkie without feelings, built to follow a specific program. I’m a girl knocked sideways, falling in love for the first time. Being near him is a straight road to disaster, and if it were only the two of us tonight, I would’ve said no to the horse race. But it won’t just be us. With Charlotte, Jack, and Dickie always around, we’ll never really be alone.
Charlotte comes to my suite to get ready. My Pinkie moves briskly around the room, reciting riding etiquette as it applies our makeup and arranges our hair. I rifle through my closet, cycling through four outfits before finally settling on a crisp plastron shirt, dark green breeches, white show gloves, and a double-vented hacking jacket with horn buttons.
As much as it sometimes hurts to be around Edmund, I’m still looking forward to seeing him. The thought of his face flushing when he laughs is enough to set my heart racing, and I find myself drifting around the room, so light I feel tipsy.
When the Pinkie fastens my pearl earrings in place, my eyes drift to the jewelry stand, to the lone diamond teardrop hanging there without its match. The other one is still missing, probably gone for good. I don’t want to imagine the look on Vivian’s face when I tell her I lost it.
Charlotte, who was excited about going riding earlier, now stands coyly at the mirror, pinning her curls back with a pair of diamond-studded pins.She hasn’t said much since she arrived.
“Did you get a haircut?” I ask her while the Pinkie touches up my makeup.
She shrugs. “Yeah. Did it myself last night.”
“I thought you were growing it back.”
“I wanted to.”
“So, why’d you cut it?”
Charlotte loops a curl around her finger, tugging it a little too roughly, then sighs. “Long hair is for the good times, Lore.”
I drift to her side, knowing she means before her breakup with Jack. “Any progress with him?”
“Yeah. A lot, actually, but….” Her voice hardens, then softens, like something melting. “Things are never gonna go back to the way they were.”
I try to look encouraging as I crouch and zip up her high-shine leather dress boots. Edmund has his fair share of enemies, but I can’t figure out who Charlotte could’ve been involved with that made both Jack and Edmund so angry they cut her off completely.
“It might help if I knew who he was,” I say softly, hoping she’ll open up to me.
