Male hands untied dark green laces on the back of the dress. “No matter what happens, I will bring honor to your name, Brietta. I swear it.”
It was Derrick’s voice—myDerrick. I had not found Duchess Ilsa’s memory, I found Brietta’s!
I bit my tongue and released my hold on the magic.
“You are the most noble friend, the best—”
I pulled out of the memory and looked around, reorienting myself in Derrick and Brietta’s bedroom.
“Well?” Brietta asked stiffly.
I look back down at the dress. “Wrong person’s memory.”
“What did you see?”
My lip trembled as I gave the answer I could not refuse. “Promises made but not kept.”
Her eyes widened slightly and her grip on her arms tightened. “Try again. Make sure the memory is hers this time.”
I closed my eyes and my magic swept through the dress again. Ilsa, Ilsa, Ilsa—what did I know about Ilsa? Mother of Anders and Ragnar. Wife to Alastar the Wise. Icy beauty.
She had iced Derrick out from the beginning.
Maybe Freya had given us a clue after all. My hands traveled up to the square neck of the bodice.
The light beating of feathery wings traced my mind—my magic had found tears.
“I cannot do this!” cried a young woman’s voice.
I soared into Ilsa’s memory on the back of white raven’s wings. The wings disappeared in a flash of light and I took in my surroundings—plush pink and blue furniture, girls in their undergarments milling about, and a wall full of tall mirrors.
I was in the moments before the Presentation.
A tall woman with long white hair sat sullenly at a dressing table—Ilsa Ravenwood.
The shimmering dress fit snugly around her curved frame. A beautiful blue diamond pendant sat on the dressing table behind Ilsa. Even though the room was abuzz with other women lacing up their dresses and trying not to cry their makeup off, Ilsa’s violet eyes did not move once.
A woman with light brown hair walked over to Ilsa, her petal pink dress swishing around her ankles. Her lips parted as she admired the necklace. “Oh, Ilsa, is this what your father bought you for the Presentation? It is beautiful.”
Ilsa shrugged. “That is nice, I suppose. Not that I can appreciate it for myself.”
The woman in pink frowned. She picked up the pendant and held it in front of Ilsa’s face. She angled the blue gemstone so it caught the sunlight from the windows and scattered sparkles across Ilsa’s violet eyes.
The woman in pink gave Ilsa a warm smile as she moved the gem back and forth. “How about now?”
The fractals danced across Ilsa’s unmoving eyes and she smiled. “Thank you, Hilda.”
Hilda! I should have recognized her smile. If I had a body in the memory, I would have wrapped my arms around the young Hilda Bloodstone.
Hilda gently placed the crystal around Ilsa’s neck so it rested on her heart. “Who do you think is going to pick you?” She bounced with delight. “Richard Thornebow was absolutely enamored with you at the Suitors’ Ball yesterday!”
“He was quite nice,” Ilsa said fondly. Her face fell. “But with my fame, we all know who will actually choose me.”
Ilsa’s voice broke and then tears streamed down her cheeks. She wrapped her hands around her stomach and leaned forward as she sobbed.
“I cannot do this!” Ilsa cried. “He cannot force me to marry him!”
The other women shot green glares as she cried. I might have even glared at her too had I been there. All I had ever wanted was to be Duchess of Lycaster, and she was sobbing at the opportunity?
