“He most certainly isn’t. I couldn’t understand a word he said. And his name ends in an o, just like the rest of you.” Rhonda accompanied that last part with a nod to Mira and her friends.
“His name’s Jean Devereaux,” Tamsin’s mother insisted. “I’ve washed his laundry. He speaks Lorandian.”
“And crepes are from Lorandy,” I added.
Rhonda shot me an affronted look. “You doubt me now, too? So much for blood being thicker than water. Well, it doesn’t matter. Sirminican, Lorandian. They all sound alike, and really, the two of us didn’t do much speaking anyway, if you know what I mean.”
I felt guilty when the family picnic ended a couple of hours later, mainly because I was so happy about it. The rest of my housemates were not, and Tamsin in particular took it hard. Everyone was making their goodbyes in the front hall as the carriages prepared to take the visitors back to the city. I saw Tamsin hand a huge bundle of paper to her mother, and I realized it was the culmination of those letters she was always writing. I’d noted she did it daily, but seeing the full sum of them was astonishing.
It was her expression that threw me, though. Where it had been so full of open joy earlier, she now looked devastated. I had never seen such emotions on her face. Such vulnerability. She gave her parents fierce hugs goodbye, and when she went to lift Merry, Tamsin looked as though she might start crying. I had to avert my eyes. It felt wrong to stare during that kind of moment.
Rhonda stood beside me. I’d lost track of how many cups of punch she’d consumed. “Well,” she said, putting an arm over my shoulders, “I hope you’ll spare some time to come visit your old aunt Sally the next time you’re in the capital. I know you’ll be a grand lady and all by then, but don’t you forget where you came from, girl. You hear me?”
Several people near us heard her. The more she drank, the more she had trouble regulating her volume. I couldn’t decide if Cedric had done me a favor in hiring her or not.
A carriage driver called for the first group of passengers, which included Tamsin’s family. She watched them walk out, grief-stricken. As soon as they were gone, she turned on her heels and fled from the foyer. There was so much commotion and buzz from the other guests still waiting for their rides that no one but me noticed her departure. Even Mira was distracted, speaking with one of the workers. Snaking my way through the bystanders, I hurried off to find Tamsin, ignoring Rhonda’s shouts that I’d better not forget to come visit her.
I found Tamsin in our room, crying on her bed. Her head shot up when I entered, and she furiously wiped at her eyes. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be telling your aunt goodbye?”
I sat down beside Tamsin. “She’ll do just fine without me. I came because I was worried about you.”
She sniffed and wiped her eyes again. “I’m fine.”
“It’s okay to be homesick,” I said gently. “You don’t have to be ashamed about missing them.”
“I’m not ashamed . . . but I can’t let them—the others—see me like this. I can’t show weakness.”
“Loving your family isn’t weakness.”
“No . . . but around here? I have to be strong. All the time. Always moving forward.” That familiar determined look gleamed in her eyes again. “I can’t let anything stop me from getting what I want. What I need.” I didn’t say anything. I just put my hand over hers, and after a moment, she squeezed it. “I know everyone thinks I’m cold and unfeeling. That I’m mean to people.”
“You’ve never treated me that way.”
She glanced up. “Well, of course not. How else am I going to learn that damned Belsian waltz if you don’t practice with me? I have to keep you on my good side. But seriously . . .” She pulled away and clasped her hands in front of her. “You have to understand that I’m not doing all this because I’m just inherently a bitch. There’s a reason I have to do this—keep pushing to be the best and get the best in Adoria. If you only knew what I had—what I had on the line—” Her voice started to crack.
“Then tell me,” I pleaded. “Tell me, and maybe I can help you.”
“No.” Tamsin brushed away a few more rebellious tears. “If you knew, you’d never look at me the same.”
“You’re my friend. Nothing’s going to change how I feel about you.”
Yet, as I spoke, I wondered if I’d be so quick to believe those words if someone wanted to pry my secrets out of me. I was pretty sure neither Tamsin nor Mira would act the same if they knew they were sharing a room with one of the mighty Rupert’s descendants.
“I can’t,” she said. “I can’t risk it.”
“Okay. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. But I’m always here. You know I am.”
Her smile was weary but sincere. “I know.”
The door opened, and Mira rushed in. “There you are. Everyone’s— Are you okay?”
Tamsin got to her feet. “Fine, fine. What’s going on?”
Mira glanced at me for confirmation, and I gave her a small nod. She studied Tamsin a few more moments in concern before continuing.