“What? You must tell me now!”

“Lord Ackerly has offered Jacky Boy a position in his country estate! It’s a good deal of responsibility. He would be in charge of the kitchens and head butler duties, and Lord Ackerly says he has never kept a staff so Jacky Boy would do well to bring someone with him. His words were ‘perhaps a bride.’ And then he gave Jacky Boy a good-faith payment and promised to arrange it all as soon as he is ready to staff his new home! We would have our own cottage on the property.” She sits back onto the chaise longue, nearly overcome. “It’s more than I ever hoped for. I was so scared when my aunt sent me here—I was afraid I’d be lost or killed or beaten daily. But I found Jacky Boy and now we’ve a real future and oh, Jessamin, I am so happy I might burst.”

I cannot puzzle why Finn would be taking on servants now when he so recently told me he never kept them, but Ma’ati’s joy is contagious. I wrap her into a hug. “You deserve every happiness in the world.”

“Thank you. He’s a good man, you know. Jacky Boy likes him, and Jacky Boy is the best judge of character.”

I shrug noncommittally, but she doesn’t let me go, pressing on. “He looks us in the eyes, Jessamin. All of us. You’ve worked here long enough to understand what that means. But, oh! Stop right now.” She pulls back from our embrace, fussing over my dress. “We can’t wrinkle you. Now go and enjoy your evening listening to terrible, boring Alben music.”

I laugh and stand. “Yes, I can’t say I am looking forward to that part. Perhaps I’ll get in a good nap.”

Ma’ati follows me into the hall, then grabs my elbow and turns me around. “Not the servants’ stairs. Just this once, use the main ones. But give me half a minute to go ahead, so I can hide near the lobby and watch you walk down!”

She hitches her skirt and takes off at a run for the back stairs. If it were anyone but her, I’d follow, refusing to make a spectacle. I cannot say no to Ma’ati.

Counting to sixty in my head, I walk slowly down the wood-paneled hallway toward the open flight of stairs that will take me to the lobby. I peek over the balcony to see if Ma’ati is ready. Standing in the center of the marble floor, looking straight up at me, is Finn.

His tailed tuxedo is trim and fitted, showcasing the slender lines of his body, and his golden hair catches the overhead electric chandelier. It’s even a bit messy tonight, not so controlled as usual. He leans casually against his cane, and when he meets my eyes, a smile slowly spreads across his face.

Something inside of me breaks and re-forms into a new, unknown shape, and I do not know what has happened or why, only that I feel as though I am glowing from my toes to the tip of my head and I want to be beside Finn right now.

I take a deep breath to calm my racing heart, trying to tell myself that it’s the effect of his silly charmed hair, but as I take the steps in measured pace, I realize this time it feels different. Before there was a sort of fuzzing, a misty separation from reality. But tonight everything is clearer, sharper, as though the sun has finally broken through the Alben clouds and lit the world in a new way.

As though Finn has created his wonderful miniature sun inside my heart.

I am down the stairs before I process having passed even one flight. I hear a soft, happy sigh and turn to see Ma’ati peeking from behind the dining room doors. I smile and wave at her. Then, hardly daring to look at him lest he somehow sees straight through to my wild, giddy panic, I turn to Finn.

“You look beautiful,” he says, and that new something inside of me flares even higher. My eyes dart like a butterfly in a cage, alighting on everything but staying fixed on nothing. His jaw, his hair, his shoulders, his mouth.

“Yes,” I answer, careful to keep my voice controlled, though I feel as if it should be two octaves higher. “How strange that Eleanor should purchase gowns so clearly the wrong size.”

“The ways of women are a mystery to me.” He holds out his elbow—in all the time we have walked with each other I have never taken it—and says, “Shall we?”

I slip my hand into place, and my voice trembles as I say, “Yes.”

For some reason, it feels as though I am answering a far more important question.

Twenty

FINN TAKES MY HAND AS I CLIMB OUT OF THE carriage when we arrive at the Royal Hall. It’s near the palace, across the river from the courthouse. All these are buildings I have walked by many times but never dreamt I would enter. Four soaring spires mark the corners of the Hall, the stone elegant and carved over arching stained-glass windows and massive scrolling iron doors. This is where the queen was wed, where her husband’s funeral was held.

On Melei, the monarchy is officially ours, too, but we all grow up knowing the pale, unsmiling portraits in our schools are nothing like us—and care nothing for us. So, while I do not hold the monarchy in any regard, it is still more than a little intimidating to walk on such ceremonially important grounds.

When we pass guards in the queen’s deep purple livery, Finn does not hand them the invitation as I expect him to. One of the guards holds out a golden platter, in the center of which a single sharp needle sticks up.

“Lord Finley Ackerly,” he says in a deeper voice than I am used to. I had not known Finn was a nickname and feel both embarrassed and strangely privileged to know him as such. He then pricks his finger on the point. A spark ignites and the guard nods, withdrawing the platter.

I am cold with fear that he will expect me to do the same but Finn guides me forward without hesitation. “What was that?” I whisper.