And try to find out what the deal between my stepfather and the fae house is, what debt there was, and if possible, why I’m suddenly dead weight, ballast to throw overboard.
What changed?
I sit with my cousins who reserved me a seat because they are so sweet. They fill up my plate and plague me with questions.
“When are you leaving? Is it true you’re leaving any day now?”
“How did you get the beast to behave?”
“Are you doing all right?”
I nod and stuff my mouth with sweetmeats not to have to reply, buying myself time so that I can think of a neutral answer. One that won’t enrage or worry my cousins too much.
After all, there’s nothing they can do to help. Soon, they will be leaving too, returning home, just as I will be departing, heading into the unknown. All I can do is sit with them, soaking up their affection and warmth, trying not to think about the wolf tied to the tree just a few yards away.
“So, how is your future husband?” Mina elbows me gently in the ribs. “You never showed us his portrait. Is he fatally handsome?”
I laugh. “Fatally? I hope not. I do have a miniature portrait that was sent to me.”
“Show, show.”
I fish the locket out of my cleavage and click it open. Inside is a picture of my parents, and the portrait I received together with a set of tacky earrings from Lord Eorl. I stare at my parents for long, aching moments, then glance at the blond man in the small painting.
I turn the locket around. “There he is.”
“Ooh.” Elsie claps her hands together. “He’s attractive.”
Orlen frowns, leaning closer. “He’s all right.”
“Such a harsh judge!” Mina all but presses her nose to my locket. “He’s handsome, Rosie. If the outside mirrors the inside, then you have yourself a perfect husband right there.”
But does the outside mirror the inside? That’s a philosophical question for the ages, and for some reason, I think of amber, long-fringed eyes watching me over a black muzzle.
I shake my head to clear it.
“Handsome and rich. Probably charming. Maybe he’ll be the one to get you out of your shell, cousin.” Mina elbows me again. “Huh? What do you say?”
“I don’t need anyone to get me out of my shell,” I say frostily.
“Someone to get you to wear off-the-shoulder dresses and let your hair down,” she goes on. “To accept more touches and sleep more peacefully. To smile more.”
My throat closes, because I’d mistakenly thought I managed to open up and give the impression of a healed, happy woman. “Mina…”
“Yes, dear.”
“Does everyone around here think I’m a conservative old bat?”
Orlen chokes on laughter. “The sense of humor prevails.”
“Humor covers up old wounds,” Elsie says gravely, “don’t take it lightly.”
“But it’s humor, how can I not take it lightly if?—”
“Shut up, Orlen.” Elsie dismisses him and gives me a long, discerning look. “What we’re saying is that hopefully this handsome Lord Eorl proves worthy of you, of your strength and kindness, and helps you blossom into?—”
“My old self?” I push my chair back. “I’ll never be the girl you used to know as a child, Elsie.”
“That’s not what I meant. Wait, Rosie?—”
