I saw little of Cedric in the months that followed. with so many other things to keep me busy, it was easy to push him off to a place in the back of my mind. I filed other things there—like the memories of my parents, and how worried my grandmother must be—and made a point of visiting that mental place as little as possible. It was only on occasional late nights, when I’d lie restless in bed, that I’d allow myself a peek at those dark corners of my mind.
My tenure at the Glittering Court soon became the happiest time of my life to date, excepting when my parents were alive. Despite the regimented schedule, the endless drills and classes, I felt a freedom I’d never known. I moved around the manor with a lightness in my chest, heady with the feeling that I could do anything and had the world at my fingertips. Certainly, I was scrutinized, but nowhere near the levels of Osfro.
That wasn’t to say I didn’t still face some challenges.
“Hey, are you ready to— What have you done?”
I looked up as Tamsin and Mira entered the kitchen. Even though we’d now spent nearly eight months learning the ways of upper-class ladies, Mistress Masterson wanted us—or some of us—to remember our humble roots. That meant occasional household chores, such as the dishes I was currently washing.
They hurried over to my side, peering at the copper kettle I was attempting to wash. “Is that bleach? That is bleach! I can smell it.” Without waiting for a response, Tamsin grabbed the kettle and dumped its contents into a tub of wastewater. “What were you thinking?”
“Something got burned in it, and scrubbing wasn’t working. I saw you use bleach to get out that stain from your dress the other day, so I thought—”
“Stop,” said Tamsin. “I don’t want to hear any more. I can’t hear any more.”
Mira picked up a cloth and rubbed the inside of the pot. “It came out, and the bleach wasn’t in long enough to cause damage.”
I felt triumphant. “So it did work.”
“Soaking in water, followed by a lemon scrub, would have done the same with a lot less risk.” Tamsin took one of my hands and held it up. One side was red from the bleach. “Deepest hell. Go rinse them off. You’ve got the best hands of all of us. Don’t ruin that.”
Tamsin’s own hands showed the signs of having scrubbed laundry since childhood, and it vexed her to no end. She was constantly applying moisturizers in an effort to undo—or at least minimize—the damage.
Mira took my apron and hung it up while Tamsin gave me a quick inspection. “No other harm done. The dress is intact, and I daresay that’s the nicest chignon I’ve ever seen you do. Did someone help you?”
I patted my hair, affronted at her suspicious tone. “We share the same room. Do you think someone sneaked in and helped me?”
“It wasn’t me,” said Mira, seeing Tamsin’s gaze fall on her. “Adelaide’s come quite a long way. I saw her fold a blanket the other day, and there were almost no creases in it.”
I pushed the kitchen door open, and the other two followed me. “Oh, stop, both of you. It’s our off day. It wouldn’t matter if I did have sloppy hair.”
Tamsin narrowed her eyes in thought. “No, something’s going on. Mistress Masterson wouldn’t have ordered us to the ballroom otherwise. This is usually the day she has it cleaned.”
My slowness on the dishes had made us the last to arrive, but we weren’t late yet. Even if we were, I didn’t think Mistress Masterson would have noticed. She was busy directing one of the house servants to set up large tables on the far side of the room. In the middle of the ballroom itself, we were met with the astonishing sight of blankets spread across the floor and our housemates sitting on them.
“What’s going on?” I asked Rosamunde.
She glanced up at us from her blue-flowered quilt. “No idea. Mistress Masterson just told us to sit down and wait.”
Puzzled, my friends and I made it across the room to an unoccupied blanket, an enormous fuzzy one with red and yellow stripes. Around us, the other girls’ conversation buzzed as they too wondered what was happening. Tamsin groaned. “Damn it. I knew I should have worn my church dress.”
“You think we’re having a service in here?” I asked.
“No. But I think this is a test. A pop quiz. Maybe how to entertain and throw a get-together on short notice.” Tamsin pointed to the entrance. “Look. Here comes food.”