STORY
I reworked what Josephine said to me over and over, staring at myself in the mirror as my girl undid the braids in my hair.
You should have found it by now.
What did that mean? The unknowns were piling too high inside me. I was suffocating.
“Ow.” I winced.
“Sorry, miss,” my girl said meekly. She fingered the knots at the root of my scalp with conditioner, slowly undoing each intricate braid. I glanced at the clock. Two hours had passed since she began, and we weren’t yet halfway finished, yet there was still hours to go until dinner.
Dinner…maybe I’d get another chance with Grayson then.
This was so much harder than I realized it would be. I was naive. Thinking it would be like before, but now we were both watched, and I had no way of contacting him.
He was keeping secrets
again…but I only had minutes to glance into his heart.
After a bath—once again filled with so many oils my skin was like ice—my girl sat me on the vanity and prepped me. My hair was slicked and parted on the side, a slight wave visible at the roots. My natural curls were wild and glossy and free at the nape of my neck.
She placed a hood of gossamer embroidered with jewels and gold thread a few inches from my forehead. I fiddled with the matching thread embroidered on my gown.
I was ready for Christmas dinner.
For a night of whispers even the servants didn’t hear.
This isn’t the holidays, Story. The holidays haven’t even begun—
“You look beautiful, Angel.”
I lifted my head at West’s voice. He had shed his festive suit for something more dapper. A sleek, black tux and bow tie—as dinner was a black tie affair.
“An—”
I cut him off. “I can’t tell you until after dinner. I won’t.”
“I was going to say, I need you to give something to my sister.”
“What? Why?”
The muscle in West’s jaw flexed. He stared at me, and then after a moment, pulled what looked like an EpiPen from his breast pocket. “I can’t have just anyone bring this to her. My mother would be pissed if she knew—”
He broke off, like he was upset for telling me, then handed me the pen. I rolled it over between my fingers, that annoying West feeling clenching my chest. This felt…nice. Sweet, even. I couldn’t help but wonder, if he was asking because he actually trusted me.
Like he knew I was thinking about him, he grabbed my chin. “Servants talk. But you…you can’t speak to anyone.”
He let me go and though shame flooded my chest, I stared at the pen.
It suddenly appeared a key to me.
I could see Grayson. I could sneak into his room before I went to Lottie, or even after. There was still some time before dinner—
“Grayson will be downstairs with me, and all the men.”
With that last spearing mock, West turned to leave.
“Wait!” I stood up, nearly tripping on my dress. “What did you mean when you said the Holidays hadn’t begun?”