Even irreverent Cyrus seemed surprised. “What else do you expect her to do? She’d lose Nordic citizenship.”
“That baby’s a plebeian.” Their mother practically spat the word out. “Generations of pure genes mixed with who knows what kind of background. What kind of child would that be? Certainly not one we can keep around here. I’m sure it’ll have a nice home wherever it ends up. Now stop looking so appalled. It’s not like this happened to you, thankfully. Go back to your party. And you, go to your room. I don’t want you ruining Maj’s day.” That was to Claudia, who skulked away after leveling glares at everyone in the room.
“Hold on,” Mae told her mother. “We have to talk about the Erikssons.”
“Now isn’t the time or place.”
“It’s the perfect time and place.”
“Maj.” There it was, the patronizing voice again. “You have two hundred guests to entertain. Go back out there, and we’ll discuss this in the morning. Avoid Kris if it makes you happy, but after you sleep on it, I’m sure you’ll see what an ideal match this is. Like I said, you’re our last, best hope. I know you won’t disappoint us.”
Refusing to hear anything else, her mother glided out of the room. Cyrus followed, after first slapping Mae on the back. “Congratulations, little sister.”
Mae remembered very little of the party after that. She resumed her role but didn’t even know what she said half the time. Her thoughts kept flipping between her forced engagement and Claudia’s pregnancy. After a while, Mae began to feel her own identity merged into the baby’s: both of them tossed heedlessly around by people too entrenched in a shallow and antiquated culture. She’d gone through her upbringing with little questioning, not even when her mother had denied Mae the future she wanted. Now it was as though Mae was able to step back and see all the pettiness and empty tradition that had shackled her for her entire life. There was no reason for it that she could see.
There was no purpose.
Mae left the gallery without another word and went back to the kitchen, where servants had returned now that the family drama was over. None of them paid much attention to her as she cut through the room, straight to the back door that led out to the house’s side. All was quiet and dark here. Guests who had wandered to the expansive patio had done so at the other end of the house. Packing or changing didn’t even cross her mind. She had what was left of her dignity, as well as a clutch purse containing her ego. Those were all she needed.
She walked off into the night, which was heavy with summer’s humidity and abuzz with the songs of insects. She found the dirt road that wound away from the estate and followed it to where it joined up with the main highway leading into New Stockholm. Two hours into the trip, she took off her high-heeled shoes and continued barefoot. Three hours into the trip, a storm rolled in and unleashed a torrential downpour. Six hours into the trip, she reached the edge of downtown.
Everyone knew where the Gustav was. It was one of the largest buildings on the west side and was the only hotel plebeians were allowed to stay at in the land grant. Through some serendipitous twist of fate, Mae walked up to it just as General Gan emerged and turned toward a waiting car. When he saw her, he came to a total standstill. Mae had the impression that the general had seen many, many things, but a bedraggled girl with bleeding feet and a soaked debutante’s dress probably wasn’t a sight he’d run into before.
“Hello, General,” she told him. “I’ve decided I’d like to have a purpose after all.”
When Mae finished her story, she thought Justin, who was stretched out on the couch, had fallen asleep. Silence fell, and he opened his eyes.
“If it makes you feel better, you win the dubious honor of completely surprising me. I never would have guessed any of that. My prevailing theory was that you ran off after some infatuation with a soldier.”
She smiled at that, pleasantly astonished at how good it really had felt to get this off her chest. She’d never told it to anyone. “Infatuation with my country, I guess.”
“Spoken like a true soldier.” He stifled a yawn. “That’s why you turned Porfirio down—too many scars from the thought of engagement.”
She supposed he was close to the mark, though Mae should’ve been used to that by now. “That, and he was pretty heavy-handed about it. I think he thought asking was kind of a formality. He couldn’t imagine I’d say no.” Startlingly close to the way Kris had behaved, she realized. “And I think being his wife…I don’t know. He didn’t have a lot of the sexist views patricians have, but there was still an overconfidence about him. He would’ve assumed I’d always go along with him. Kind of like the proposal—he couldn’t imagine I’d refuse.” She swallowed as she recalled their last meeting.