My hands curled into fists.I was tempted to punch him right in his perfect nose.
“I’m going to find somewhere else to stay, if you don’t mind,” I said stiffly.
Edmund blinked in confusion.“You can stay here, Giselle.Everything is paid for.”
I stood and whirled to the door.
“We’ll meet at the palace tomorrow?”he called out.He sounded too confident, like a man used to getting everything he wanted.
“I think you can make that trip yourself.”I stepped into the hall and slammed the door behind me.
I didn’t let the tears fall until I flew down the stairs, past the lobby, the mermaid fountain, and finally the gates of The Conch.Hot tears streaked down my face as I crossed the street, the street lamps blurring into hazy balls of light.I stopped beneath an oak tree, tilting my head up.Away from the brilliance of the hotel, the stars seemed brighter.I wiped my eyes, shaking, angry, and devastated.
Because Ma had been right all along.
28
Aday later, I openedmy eyes to the mildewy walls of the boarding house I had rented.Judging from the waning sun, which painted my ceiling a burnished gold, it was nearing evening.I had spent the entire day languishing on the hard, narrow bed, half-sleeping, half-waking, and wholly hating myself.
I pulled myself up to my elbows, the mattress giving an ungodly creak.I had no desire to report back to the palace and see Edmund’s terribly handsome face again.He wanted me to use my coercion magic on his father, and from his demeanor, so pleasant and confident, he really thought I would agree.
I blew the hair out of my eyes.I hadn’t bothered to braid it last night so it hung loose around my shoulders, frizzy and tangled.The back of my head was probably a matted mess.
“Idiot, idiot, idiot,” I muttered to myself, knocking my head with my knuckles like Ma used to do when we misbehaved.
I had made an utter fool out of myself.I had fallen for Edmund’s charms, believed that he actually liked me, that he actually supported me.
But his worst crime of all was that he had proven Ma right.
I hated it when Ma was right.
My stomach growled pitifully as I pulled myself to my feet, the room spinning and my limbs aching.I had no wish to go down and partake in the boarding house’s bland dinner of boiled string beans, stale bread, and some sort of dry, mysterious meat they served the other night, so I pulled on my boots, wrestled my hair into a braid, and headed down the street.A stroll would clear my mind.
I walked briskly to the inn across my old shop, the cold autumn air biting my cheeks, crushing the dried leaves beneath my heels with destructive force as if they were the source of all my bad luck.
When I entered, the inn enveloped me in the toasty scent of fresh bread and seasoned food, the atmosphere all chatter and warm candlelight.I let my shoulders relax in this old familiarity and slid into my usual seat at the bar, ordering a simple meal of bread and beef stew.The loaf was freshly baked, pillowy inside with a crackly crust on the outside.Inhaling the fragrant spices of the stew, I tore out a chunk of bread, dunked it in, and shoveled the bite into my mouth.The effect on my mood was instantaneous.There was nothing better than a delicious meal on a terrible day.
